Waltey
Pa vendar mu pravijo Skok zaljubljencev
102 Yet they call it Lover's Leap
Myths and Legends of Our Own Land · Charles M. SkinnerO besedilu
Pa vendar mu pravijo Skok zaljubljencev
- Vir
- Myths and Legends of Our Own Land
- Avtor
- Charles M. Skinner
- Jezik branja
- Slovenščina
- Jezik izvirnika
- English
- Čas branja
- 2 min branja
- Obseg
- 2 strani
- Naslov izvirnika
- 102 Yet they call it Lover's Leap
O izvirniku
Myths and Legends of Our Own Land
Obsežna zgodovinska zbirka ameriških legend, ki jih je Skinner zbral in avtorsko rekonstruiral. Bralni jezik je Slovenščina, izvirnik pa prihaja iz vira Myths and Legends of Our Own Land v jeziku English.
Besedilo
Pa vendar mu pravijo Skok zaljubljencev
V spodnjem delu občine Cavendish v Vermontu si reka Black River utira pot navzdol skozi sotesko v predgorju Green Mountains. Pokrajina je tu romantična in mogočna, saj se reka prebija po globeli v nizu slapov in brzic, nad katerimi se sklanjajo drevesa in skalne police, geolog pa najde marsikaj zanimivega v votlinah in erozijskih loncih, ki pričajo o nekdanji, višji gladini reke. Na zavoju soteske se dviga strma pečina Lover's Leap. Njena stena se navpično spušča kakih osemdeset čevljev globoko, ob njenem vznožju pa se voda vrtinči v črnem, besnečem vrtincu. To je kraj, od koder bi zaljubljenci zlahka stopili v večnost, če bi jih zamikalo, in ime se čudovito prilega divjemu, temačnemu prizoru; toda če katerega od dobrih vaščanov iz okolice poprosite, naj vam pove legendo o tem kraju, vam bo povedal tole:
Pred kakimi štiridesetimi leti sta se mlada kmeta odpravila k pečini — ki takrat še ni imela imena —, da bi iz skrilaste kamnine izruvala nekaj blokov za temeljni zid. Pod rušo sta našla primeren kos razgaljene skale in ga začela lomiti. Eden od njiju se je tako zatopil v delo, da je pozabil, da stoji na robu prepada; ko mu je zdrsnil lomilni drog, je izgubil ravnotežje in omahnil v globino. Njegov zgroženi tovariš se je priplazil do roba, pričakujoč, da bo v vrtincu zagledal premetavanje njegovega zmaličenega trupla, a na svoje veliko začudenje je videl, kako se nesrečnik plazi navzgor po površini ogromne kamnite plošče, ki se je odlomila z nasprotne stene in obležala poševno naslonjena nanjo.
»Hej!« je zavpil mož zgoraj. »Si se hudo poškodoval?« Ponesrečenec se je počasi postavil na noge, si previdno pretipal noge in rebra ter začel brskati po žepih; njegov obraz je izdajal zaskrbljenost, ki je z vsakim trenutkom iskanja postajala vse globlja. Čez čas je navzgor prišel odgovor, počasen, žalosten in nosljajoč, a razločen kljub bučanju deroče vode: »No, poškodoval se nisem kaj prida, ampak naj me vrag, če nisem izgubil žepnega nožiča!«
In iz soteske so ga potegnili brez njega.
Izvirnik
102 Yet they call it Lover's Leap
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
In the lower part of the township of Cavendish, Vermont, the Black River seeks a lower level through a gorge in the foot-hills of the Green Mountains. The scenery here is romantic and impressive, for the river makes its way along the ravine in a series of falls and rapids that are overhung by trees and ledges, while the geologist finds something worth looking at in the caves and pot-holes that indicate an older level of the river. At a turn in the ravine rises the sheer precipice of Lover's Leap. It is a vertical descent of about eighty feet, the water swirling at its foot in a black and angry maelstrom. It is a spot whence lovers might easily step into eternity, were they so disposed, and the name fits delightfully into the wild and somber scene; but ask any good villager thereabout to relate the legend of the place and he will tell you this:
About forty years ago a couple of young farmers went to the Leap--which then had no name--to pry out some blocks of the schistose rock for a foundation wall. They found a good exposure of the rock beneath the turf and began to quarry it. In the earnestness of the work one of the men forgot that he was standing on the verge of a precipice, and through a slip of his crowbar he lost his balance and went reeling into the gulf. His horrified companion crept to the edge, expecting to see his mangled corpse tossing in the whirlpool, but, to his amazement, the unfortunate was crawling up the face of a huge table of stone that had fallen from the opposite wall and lay canted against it.
“Hello!” shouted the man overhead. “Are you hurt much?”
The victim of the accident slowly got upon his feet, felt cautiously of his legs and ribs, and began to search through his pockets, his face betraying an anxiety that grew deeper and deeper as the search went on. In due time the answer came back, deliberate, sad, and nasal, but distinct above the roar of the torrent: “Waal, I ain't hurt much, but I'll be durned if I haven't lost my jack-knife!”
And he was pulled out of the gorge without it.
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