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“perevedi literaturno na russkii iazyk: She did love their house with its comfort” (1 conversations)
toxic
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Feb 20, 2024 at 11:59 AM MSK
Russia
USER
perevedi literaturno na russkii iazyk: She did love their house with its comforts and gadgets, and she had lavished a good deal of time on decorating it. Mostly everything in it had her stamp. And since Orson worked so hard, she did want to show her appreciation by providing him with a beautiful setting. A home was not just things, her mother had preached. When he had finished dressing, she followed him out and put on a coat. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Getting the car." "In this weather? Are you mad?" "I'm sure the highways will be clear." "I won't hear of it," he said in a tone that brooked no protest. "I'll call a cab." "Suppose they're not running?" she asked. He looked out the kitchen window. "Always looks the worst from here." He frowned. He picked up the kitchen phone and talked briefly. The frown disappeared. "Main roads still clear. They're running." He appeared relieved. "Too important to miss." Through the window she could see Ben shoveling snow into a large pile. It still came down relentlessly in great white clumps. "Did you call first to see if they're flying?" "They are," he said decisively, remembering that their house was not far from the flight pattern, although she had long ceased to pay any attention to the jet sounds. Apparently he had made it a point to let it filter into his consciousness. "Silly to worry," he said. "The airlines know what they're doing, and pilots don't want to die any more than passengers do." "I wasn't worrying," she said defensively. The fact was that she was a worrywart. For some reason, stoicism alone had not come down through her New England ancestors. As long as she could remember people had told her to stop worrying. Something in her expression, she had finally concluded. Worry was not a trait to be carelessly exhibited. It made people overreact. Orson went into the study, and Vivien heard him talking on the telephone to his office. "It can wait till Thursday, Miss Sparks." She cleaned the kitchen. Soon she heard the sound of the taxi's horn, muffled by the snow. Ben came in from the outside, bringing in the fresh scent of the snowy outdoors. His cheeks were bright red. Orson kneeled and hugged the boy. "Listen to Mommy," Orson said. "We're going to make a snowman," Ben said. He lifted his arms. "A big one like Daddy." She caught a misty glint in Orson's eyes as he stood up. "I'm off," he said. "Think of us," Vivien said. A frown shadowed his face, for which she felt partly responsible. She had not meant for him to feel guilty. Really, she rebuked herself, it was only for four days.
CHATBOT
Ona deistvitel'no liubila ikh dom so vsemi ego udobstvami i prisposobleniiami, udeliala mnogo vremeni ego ukrasheniiu. Pochti vse v nem nosilo ee otpechatok. I tak kak Orson tak userdno trudilsia, ona khotela pokazat' emu svoiu priznatel'nost', sozdavaia krasivyi ugolok. Dom -- eto ne tol'ko veshchi, propovedovala ee mat'. Kogda on zakonchil odevat'sia, ona posledovala za nim i nadela pal'to. "Kuda ty sobralas'?" -- sprosil on. "Za mashinoi." "V takuiu pogodu? Ty chto, soshla s uma?" "Uverena, chto na shosse vse budet chisto." "Ia ne dopushchu etogo," -- skazal on tonom, ne terpiashchim vozrazhenii. -- "Ia vyzovu taksi." "A esli u nikh ne rabotaet sluzhba?" -- sprosila ona. On posmotrel v okno kukhni. "Vsegda kazhetsia, chto s etoi storony vse khuzhe." On nakhmurilsia. Vzial kukhonnyi telefon i korotko pogovoril. Nakhmurennost' ischezla. "Osnovnye dorogi vse eshche otkryty. Oni rabotaiut." On vygliadel oblegchennym. "Slishkom vazhno, chtoby propustit'." Cherez okno ona videla, kak Ben sgrebaet sneg v bol'shuiu kuchu. On prodolzhal bezzhalostno padat' bol'shimi belymi kom'iami. "Ty pozvonil, chtoby uznat', letaiut li samolety?" "Letaiut," -- skazal on reshitel'no, vspomniv, chto ikh dom ne tak daleko ot vzletnoi polosy, khotia ona uzhe davno perestala obrashchat' vnimanie na zvuk reaktivnykh samoletov. Vidimo, on soznatel'no pozvolil etomu proniknut' v ego soznanie. "Glupo volnovat'sia," -- skazal on. -- "Aviakompanii znaiut, chto oni delaiut, i piloty ne khotiat umirat' ne men'she, chem passazhiry." "Ia i ne volnovalas'," -- skazala ona v zashchitnom tone. Fakticheski, ona byla bespokoinoi. Po kakoi-to prichine stoitsizm tak i ne pereshel k nei ot predkov iz Novoi Anglii. Kak ona mogla vspomnit', ei vsegda govorili perestat' bespokoit'sia. Neobkhodimo bylo chto-to v ee vyrazhenii litsa, ona nakonets prishla k takomu vyvodu. Volnenie -- eto ne cherta, kotoruiu mozhno bylo by bezzabotno demonstrirovat'. Eto zastavlialo liudei slishkom mnogo reagirovat'. Orson poshel v kabinet, i Viv'en uslyshala, kak on razgovarivaet po telefonu so svoim ofisom. "Eto mozhet podozhdat' do chetverga, miss Sparks." Ona pribralas' na kukhne. Vskore ona uslyshala zvuk gudka taksi, zaglushennogo snegom. Ben zashel vnutr', prinesia s soboi svezhii zapakh snezhnogo vozdukha. Ego shcheki byli iarko-krasnymi. Orson preklonil koleni i obnial mal'chika. "Slushaisia mamu," -- skazal Orson. "My sobiraemsia slepit' snegovika," -- skazal Ben. On podnial svoi ruki. "Bol'shogo, kak papa." Ona zametila sleziashchiisia blesk v glazakh Orsona, kogda on vstal. "Ia poekhal," -- skazal on. "Dumai o nas," -- skazala Viv'en. Na ego litse pokazalos' nakhmurennoe vyrazhenie, za kotoroe ona chuvstvovala sebia chastichno otvetstvennoi. Ona ne khotela, chtoby on chuvstvoval sebia vinovatym. Pravda, ona uprekala sebia, eto bylo vsego lish' na chetyre dnia.
USER
eshche fragment: "How about Saint Thomas in February?" she said as she bent to offer her lips. She kissed him on the cheek. "We'll talk about it when I get back." He kissed her and went out the door. With Ben waving beside her, she watched Orson slosh through the snow and get into the cab. It rolled away slowly, the tires following their earlier tracks. As always when she bid him good-bye, she felt brief tremors of loss. This time she felt a bit foolish. It's only for four days! She spent the day as she had promised, helping Ben build the snowman. They stopped for lunch and finished it soon after. She used chocolate chip cookies for eyes, stuck one of Orson's old bent pipes into a slit of mouth, and put Orson's tweed rain hat on his head. "Looks like Daddy," Ben said. "Well, then, we won't miss him so much, will we?" Alice, their baby-sitter and cleaning woman, called. She was too frightened to drive because of the snow and wouldn't be coming in. Vivien spent the entire day with Ben, which meant isolating herself completely in his child's world. In late afternoon, she made him hot chocolate, sat him on her lap and read to him from My Book-house until both of them dozed off. When she awoke, it was dark. The snow continued to fall, and a deep hush descended over the house. She felt serene, satisfied, and content. She hugged Ben to her, breathing in the aroma of his sweet child's body, feeling again the sense of completeness in her motherhood, her home, her husband; a bird secure in her nest. Ben was the image of his father, a fact that made her love him all the more. The pressure of her caresses woke him. "Mommy loves you," she whispered. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She was overwhelmed with the joy of it. Considering the perils of this world, there was much to be thankful for. The telephone's ring shattered the mood. Her mother's tense voice startled her. "I saw it on television. Isn't it awful?" "Awful?" She thought immediately of Orson. Had something happened? "I mean the plane crash." "My God." Her heart jumped. "It went right into the Potomac. Under the ice." There was a long pause. "Vivien!" Her throat felt constricted. She grunted an answer, and her head began to pound. Her mother continued, "It was this plane to Miami." "Miami?" Relieved, she felt the pounding subside as her mother plunged on with the story: a handful of survivors; they think the rest are dead. She listened patiently, understanding her mother's motive for telling her this terrible news, imagining how many other parents and children were reacting in just that way. "Orson flew to Paris today," Vivien said. "I've been here with Ben. We're fine. We built a snowman." In the long silence she felt her mother's embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Viv. How stupid of me. I thought everyone knew. I just called to hear your voice, that's all." "I know, but you did scare the bejesus out of me." "I'm so sorry, dear." "It's all right, Mother. You couldn't have known Orson was flying today." "They shouldn't fly in this weather," her mother said firmly. A public tragedy, Vivien supposed, often triggered anxiety in those whose loved ones were within geographical proximity of the event. "We're all fine, Mama," she said reassuringly. They talked for a while, and then she put Ben on. But the news, despite its irrelevance to her, had shattered her sense of calm. While Ben talked she turned on the television set. She saw the bridge, the wreckage of automobiles, and the divers going down into the water through a screen of falling snow. A young man's battered body was being extracted from a car. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed. Ben looked at her, then threw a kiss through the telephone mouthpiece and hung up. Quickly, Vivien turned off the set. "Nothing that concerns us, baby." She gathered him into her arms and hugged him. How lucky we are, she thought.
CHATBOT
"Kak naschet Sent-Tomasa v fevrale?" -- skazala ona, sklonivshis', chtoby predlozhit' emu svoi guby. Ona potselovala ego v shcheku. "Pogovorim ob etom, kogda vernus'," otvetil on, potseloval eio i vyshel iz doma. S Benom, mashushchim riadom s nei, ona nabliudala, kak Orson probiraetsia po snegu i saditsia v taksi. Ono medlenno tronulos' s mesta, kolesa sledovali po ranee prolozhennym sledam. Kak vsegda, kogda ona proshchalas' s nim, ona ispytyvala kratkovremennye trepety utraty. Na etot raz ona chuvstvovala sebia nemnogo glupo. Vsego lish' na chetyre dnia! Ona provela den' tak, kak i obeshchala, pomogaia Benu lepit' snegovika. Oni sdelali pereryv na obed i zakonchili vskore posle. Ona ispol'zovala shokoladnoe pechen'e vmesto glaz, vstavila odnu iz starykh sognutykh trubok Orsona v razrez dlia rta i nadela na golovu ego tvidovuiu dozhdevuiu shliapu. "Pokhozhe na papu," -- skazal Ben. "Nu vot, tak nam i ne pridetsia po nemu tak sil'no skuchat', pravda?" Elis, ikh niania i uborshchitsa, pozvonila. Ona slishkom boialas' vodit' mashinu iz-za snega i ne smogla priekhat'. Viv'en provela ves' den' s Benom, chto oznachalo polnoe pogruzhenie v ego detskii mir. Pozdno dnem ona sdelala emu goriachii shokolad, posadila ego sebe na koleni i chitala emu iz "Moei knizhki-doma" do tekh por, poka oba ne zadremali. Kogda ona prosnulas', na ulitse bylo temno. Sneg prodolzhal padat', i nad domom opustilas' glubokaia tishina. Ona chuvstvovala sebia spokoinoi, udovletvorennoi i dovol'noi. Ona krepko obniala Bena, vdykhaia aromat ego sladkogo detskogo tela, snova oshchushchaia polnotu materinstva, doma, muzha; ptitsa, chuvstvuiushchaia sebia v bezopasnosti v svoem gnezde. Ben byl tochnoi kopiei svoego ottsa, i eto zastavlialo ee liubit' ego eshche bol'she. Davlenie ee lask razbudilo ego. "Mama tebia liubit," -- shepnula ona. Glaza napolnilis' slezami. Ona byla perepolnena radost'iu ot etogo oshchushcheniia. Uchityvaia opasnosti etogo mira, bylo za chto blagodarit'. Zvonok telefona narushil etot moment. Napriazhennyi golos ee mamy vstrevozhil ee. "Ia videla eto po televizoru. Neuzheli eto uzhasno?" "Uzhasno?" Ona srazu podumala ob Orsone. Sluchilos' chto-to? "Ia imeiu v vidu aviakatastrofu." "Bozhe moi." Ee serdtse zabilos'. "On upal priamo v Potomak. Pod led." Byla dol'shaia pauza. "Viv'en!" Ona pochuvstvovala, kak zadykhaetsia. Ona otvetila sukhim golosom, i u nee nachala bolet' golova. Ee mat' prodolzhila: "Eto byl samolet v Maiami." "Maiami?" Oblegchennaia, ona pochuvstvovala, kak ukhodit golovnaia bol', poka mat' ne pereshla k rasskazu o sobytii: nemnogie vyzhili; schitaiut, chto ostal'nye mertvy. Ona terpelivo slushala, ponimaia motivy materi rasskazat' ei uzhasnuiu novost', predstavliaia, kak mnogo drugikh roditelei i ikh detei reagirovali tak zhe. "Orson segodnia letel v Parizh," -- skazala Viv'en. -- "Ia byla zdes' s Benom. My v poriadke. My slepili snegovika." V dolgoi tishine ona pochuvstvovala smushchenie materi. "Ochen' khochu izvinit'sia, Viv. Kak glupo s moei storony. Ia podumala, chto vse znaiut. Ia prosto pozvonila, chtoby uslyshat' tvoi golos, vot i vse." "Ia znaiu, no ty vsio-taki napugala menia do smerti." "Ochen' izviniaius', dorogaia." "Vse v poriadke, mama. Ty ne mogla znat', chto Orson segodnia letel." "Ne dolzhny oni letat' v takuiu pogodu," -- tverdo skazala ee mat'. Publichnaia tragediia, Viv'en dogadyvalas', chasto vyzyvala trevogu u tekh, ch'i blizkie nakhodilis' v geograficheskoi blizosti ot sobytiia. "My vse v poriadke, mama," -- skazala ona, uspokaivaia. Oni pogovorili eshche nemnogo, posle chego ona dala trubku Benu. No novost', nesmotria na svoiu ne otnosiashchuiusia k nei, shokirovala ee i razrushila chuvstvo spokoistviia. Poka Ben razgovarival, ona vkliuchila televizor. Ona uvidela most, oblomki avtomobilei i vodolazov, spuskaiushchikhsia v vodu skvoz' zavesu padaiushchego snega. Telo molodogo cheloveka izvlekali iz avtomobilia. "O, Bozhe moi," -- voskliknula ona. Ben posmotrel na nee, zatem poslal potselui cherez telefonnuiu trubku i povesil trubku. Viv'en bystro vykliuchila televizor. "Eto ne kasaetsia nas, detka." Ona zakliuchila ego v svoi ob'iatiia i krepko obniala. Kak nam povezlo, podumala ona.