Waltey
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056 The Weary Watcher
Myths and Legends of Our Own Land · Charles M. SkinnerO besedilu
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- 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
- 056 The Weary Watcher
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
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Preden je odprtje velikega mostu na Washington Street v Brooklynu pripeljalo ropotajoči vrvež trgovine, je bila ta cesta senčna in lepa avenija. Med hišami, ki so pričale o njeni uglednosti, je bila tudi hiša med ulicama Tillary in Concord, o kateri se je dolgo govorilo, da v njej straši. V njej sta živela mož in žena, ki sta bila, kakor je kazalo, nežno vdana drug drugemu, njuna ljubezen pa bi morala biti še toliko močnejša, saj nobeden od njunih treh otrok ni dočakal odraslosti. Skupna žalost povezuje prav tako tesno kakor skupna ljubezen. Nekega dne, ko je bila žena na obisku pri prijateljici, je videla moža, kako se je v kočiji peljal mimo, ob njem pa je sedela vpadljivo opravljena ženska. Nemudoma je odšla domov, in ko se je domnevni nezvestnež vrnil, ga je pričakala z grenkimi očitki. Ni ji odgovoril niti besede, temveč je vzel klobuk in odšel iz hiše; v krajih, kjer so ga poznali, ga niso nikoli več videli.
Žena je oprezala in čakala ter vsak dan upala na njegovo vrnitev, toda dnevi so se raztegnili v tedne, mesece in leta, njega pa še vedno ni bilo. Včasih je obžalovala, da je govorila prenagljeno in trdo, saj je pomislila, da bi ga morda spoznala za nedolžnega, če bi vedela vse. Ni imela družine, za katero bi skrbela, niti si ni poiskala kakega koristnega opravila, zato so ji dnevi minevali v prisluškovanju in oprezanju, dokler ji nazadnje nista opešala telo in duh in znanega obraza, ki je gledal skozi okno v drugem nadstropju, ni bilo več videti. Prišel je njen zadnji dan. Vstala je iz postelje; za hip se je zdelo, da sta se ji povrnila življenje in razsodnost; in stoje tam, kjer je stala že tolikokrat, oprta na napol zaprto polkno in oklepajoč se okenskega okvira, je še enkrat pogledala na ulico, brezupno vzdihnila in tako umrla. Njen duh je še dolgo bedel pri oknih; njen voščeni obraz, obtežen z utrujenostjo in bolečino, je bilo ob večerih mogoče nejasno razločiti, kako zre čez stebričke stopniščne ograje.
Izvirnik
056 The Weary Watcher
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
Before the opening of the great bridge sent commerce rattling up Washington Street in Brooklyn that thoroughfare was a shaded and beautiful avenue, and among the houses that attested its respectability was one, between Tillary and Concord Streets, that was long declared to be haunted. A man and his wife dwelt there who seemed to be fondly attached to each other, and whose love should have been the stronger because of their three children none grew to years. A mutual sorrow is as close a tie as a common affection. One day, while on a visit to a friend, the wife saw her husband drive by in a carriage with a showy woman beside him. She went home at once, and when the supposed recreant returned she met him with bitter reproaches. He answered never a word, but took his hat and left the house, never to be seen again in the places that had known him.
The wife watched and waited, daily looking for his return, but days lengthened into weeks, months, years, and still he came not. Sometimes she lamented that she had spoken hastily and harshly, thinking that, had she known all, she might have found him blameless. There was no family to look after, no wholesome occupation that she sought, so the days went by in listening and watching, until, at last, her body and mind gave way, and the familiar sight of her face, watching from a second floor window, was seen no longer. Her last day came. She had risen from her bed; life and mind seemed for a moment to be restored to her; and standing where she had stood so often, her form supported by a half-closed shutter and a grasp on the sash, she looked into the street once more, sighed hopelessly, and so died. It was her shade that long watched at the windows; it was her waxen face, heavy with fatigue and pain, that was dimly seen looking over the balusters in the evening.
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