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“sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: She nodded and sucked in a deep br” (1 conversations)
toxic
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Feb 21, 2024 at 4:49 PM MSK
Russia
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. "I'll never give myself away again. Never." She said it firmly, lifting her glass. "Never," Edward echoed. "Never." Edward lifted his glass to hers. Both glasses reached out and clinked in a silent toast. They sipped, and their eyes locked. Hers appeared to him suddenly larger, deeper, darker, magnetizing. Perhaps it was the light, he thought ... an illusion. The long moment became awkward as the silence stretched. Their gazes faltered, and they both looked elsewhere. He looked at his watch, but the numbers seemed blurred. He supposed he should be going, but he wanted to stay. To continue. "It does seem like a logical idea," she said, breaking the silence. "What?" "McCarthy's. You know, checking locks against the key." "Yes," he said, "logical. But time-consuming." His alertness became acute. Seize it, he urged himself. His heart pounded with expectation, and he grew excited as he remembered McCarthy's plan. The shrinking circles. It would take a battalion, McCarthy had said. "I'd invest it ... the time," she said haltingly. "We could draw the circles, map out a route, and do it methodically. Why not? I'll get a map. We can work it out." "But your job..." she began. "Maybe I could start working on it during the day while you're at the office." "Yes," he said eagerly. "But what about you? Your son..." "I told you. He's with my parents." She frowned, and he sensed that she did not want the issue raised. "No," he said firmly. "We do it together." He slapped the table. "A question of priorities. There's nothing more important for us." "Nothing," she said. He could observe her anger beginning to flare, feeding his own. "And there is no shortcut?" "McCarthy would know." "They mustn't get away with it, Edward," she said, her voice rising. "Leave us like this, twisting in the wind." The intensity of her fury brought McCarthy's words swarming back at him, stinging. "I didn't put the poison in the cup." "They won't," he assured her.
CHATBOT
Ona kivnula i gluboko vzdokhnula. "Ia bol'she nikogda ne otdam sebia. Nikogda." Ona proiznesla eto tverdo, podnimaia svoi bokal. "Nikogda," ekhom otozvalsia Edvard. "Nikogda." Edvard podnial svoi bokal k ee. Bokaly tianulis' navstrechu drug drugu i zvonko kosnulis' v besshumnom toste. Oni delali glotki, i ikh vzgliady vstretilis'. Ee glaza vnezapno pokazalis' emu bol'shimi, glubokimi, temnymi, pritiagatel'nymi. Vozmozhno, eto byl svet, podumal on... illiuziia. Prodolzhitel'nyi moment stanovilsia nelovkim, tianulas' tishina. Ikh vzgliady oslabli, i oni oba posmotreli v storony. On posmotrel na svoi chasy, no tsifry kazalis' razmytymi. On predpolozhil, chto pora ukhodit', no khotel ostat'sia. Prodolzhit'. "Kazhetsia, eto razumnaia ideia," skazala ona, narushaia tishinu. "Chto?" "U Makkarti. Proveriat' zamki pod kliuch." "Da," skazal on, "razumno. No eto otnimet mnogo vremeni." Ego bditel'nost' obostrilas'. Beri eto, prizyval on sebia. Ego serdtse zabilos' v ozhidanii, i on vozbudilsia, vspominaia plan Makkarti. Suzhaiushchiesia krugi. Eto potrebuet batal'ona, skazal Makkarti. "Ia by investirovala ego... vremia," neuverenno skazala ona. "My mozhem nachertit' krugi, planirovat' marshrut i delat' eto metodichno. Pochemu by i net? Ia voz'mu kartu. My mozhem vse razrabotat'." "No tvoia rabota..." nachala ona. "Mozhet byt', ia mogla by nachat' rabotat' nad etim dnem, poka ty v ofise." "Da," skazal on s rveniem. "No chto naschet tebia? Tvoi syn..." "Ia uzhe skazala. On u moikh roditelei." Ona nakhmurilas', i on pochuvstvoval, chto ona ne khochet, chtoby eto obsuzhdalos'. "Net," skazal on tverdo. "My sdelaem eto vmeste." On udaril po stolu. "Vopros prioritetov. Dlia nas net nichego vazhnee." "Nichego," skazala ona. On videl, kak nachinaet razgorat'sia ee gnev, pitaia ego sobstvennyi. "I net korotkogo puti?" "Makkarti by znal." "Oni ne dolzhny uiti sukhimi iz vody, Edvard," skazala ona, golos ee povyshalsia. "Ostavit' nas tak, zakruchennymi na vetru." Intensivnost' ee iarosti obrushila na nego slova Makkarti, zhguchie. "Ia ne nalival iad v kubok." "Ne uidut," on zaveril ee.
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: In the morning, awakening from a drugged sleep, Vivien struggled to remember where she was. Orson's presence still lashed out at her. Would it ever go away? Despite the absence of his things in the bathroom, his aura persisted. She performed her morning ablutions by rote, as she had done for years, brushing her teeth, washing the moisturizer from her face, brushing her hair, reaching into the medicine chest. Without thinking, she took a pill from the white plastic dial and flung it into her mouth. "My God, he's dead!" she cried at her confused image in the mirror. Still, the old habit persisted, as if he had been standing over her. It was absurd. Not realizing, she had been taking them every day. The matter of Lily's pregnancy suddenly clarified itself, and she ran to the phone and dialed Edward's number. It took a few rings for him to answer. He seemed out of breath and annoyed until he heard her voice. "I've been gathering her things," he said, the irritation gone. "They're coming to cart them away. Everything. I'm never coming back here again." "Where will you live?" "A hotel. Anywhere. As long as it's not here." She hesitated, then steadied herself as she formed the words, but she did not speak them. Surely they had achieved a level of intimacy that made it possible. She remembered last night. Once again it had validated the importance of their alliance. She would be merely offering another deduction to bring them still closer to the truth. "Edward," she said tentatively. "Yes." "Have you still got her things? I mean, what she took on the trip. What was recovered." "Yes. They're here waiting to be trashed." "It's pure instinct--nothing conclusive--all part of the things we discussed last night, those intimate things. I'm glad I can't see your face." Her own was hot with a sudden flush. "I don't understand." "Perhaps you won't even when I say it. You said ... well, you said that on Sundays..." She waited for his response. "Yes, I remember." "You felt certain that she used the device. You said she was quite disciplined about it." "The diaphragm?" "Yes."
CHATBOT
Utrom, prosypaias' ot narkoticheskogo sna, Viv'en staralas' vspomnit', gde ona nakhoditsia. Prisutstvie Orsona vse eshche bylo iarostnym udarom dlia nee. Uidet li ono kogda-nibud'? Nesmotria na otsutstvie ego veshchei v vannoi, ego aura ne ustupala. Ona sovershala svoi utrennie ritualy na avtomate, kak i mnogie gody do etogo: chistila zuby, umyvala s litsa uvlazhniaiushchii krem, raschesyvala volosy, zagliadyvala v aptechku. Ne zadumyvaias', ona dostala tabletku iz belogo plastikovogo konteinera i brosila ee v rot. "Bozhe moi, on mertv!" - voskliknula ona, gliadia na svoe smushchennoe otrazhenie v zerkale. Odnako, staraia privychka uderzhalas', kak budto on stoial nad nei. Eto bylo absurdno. Ne osoznavaia, ona prinimala ikh kazhdyi den'. Delo s beremennost'iu Lili vdrug proiasnilos', i ona pobezhala k telefonu, chtoby nabrat' nomer Edvarda. Emu potrebovalos' neskol'ko zvonkov, chtoby otvetit'. On kazalsia zapykhavshimsia i razdrazhennym, poka ne uslyshal ee golos. "Ia sobirala ee veshchi," skazal on, i razdrazhenie ushlo. "Oni priedut, chtoby uvezti ikh. Vse. Ia bol'she nikogda siuda ne vernus'." "Gde ty budesh' zhit'?" "V gostinitse. Gde ugodno. Lish' by ne zdes'." Ona kolebalas', zatem sobralas' s silami, formiruia slova, no ne proiznesla ikh. Konechno, oni dostigli takoi stepeni blizosti, kotoraia delala eto vozmozhnym. Ona vspomnila proshluiu noch'. Ona vnov' podtverdila vazhnost' ikh soiuza. Ona lish' predlozhila by eshche odno predpolozhenie, chtoby priblizit' ikh k istine eshche na shag. "Edvard," skazala ona neuverenno. "Da." "U tebia eshche est' ee veshchi? To est' to, chto ona vziala v poezdku. To, chto bylo naideno." "Da. Oni zdes', zhdut, kogda ikh vybrosiat." "Eto chisto instinkt - nichego opredelennogo - vse te veshchi, o kotorykh my govorili proshloi noch'iu, eti intimnye veshchi. Mne radostno, chto ia ne vizhu tvoego litsa." Ee sobstvennoe litso pylalo ot vnezapnogo priliva krovi. "Ia ne ponimaiu." "Vozmozhno, ty i ne poimesh', dazhe kogda ia skazhu eto. Ty skazal... nu, ty skazal, chto po voskresen'iam..." Ona zhdala ego otveta. "Da, ia pomniu." "Ty byl uveren, chto ona ispol'zovala ego. Ty skazal, chto ona byla ochen' distsiplinirovana v etom." "Diafragmu?" "Da."
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: There was a short silence as she waited for him to comprehend. Definitely a gender gap here, she decided. "Now remember carefully. You said Sundays. Even recently." "She was always fastidious about that." He paused. "Yes, even recently," he muttered. "Would she have known she was pregnant?" "She had a cycle like a clock. Once, two years ago, she was a week late. She had herself checked out." She sensed the dawning in him of this new revelation. "Now look among the things that were brought up from the crash-- her personal things." As he searched, something nagged at her memory. A story by Philip Roth in which the diaphragm had become a symbol of commitment. Odd how her perceptions had multiplied, vibrating instincts and picking up distant symbols, as if she had lived in a thick soupy fog for years, all those years with Orson. In the distance she heard his footsteps. They grew louder. Then his voice came back. "It wasn't there," he said. "It was in its usual place under the sink." "You see?" She felt strangely satisfied, knowing that she had achieved a level of intimacy with Edward that she had never shared with anyone, not even with Orson. On that subject she had always been reticent, even with Margo. "But if she knew she was pregnant..." His voice trailed away. Could she invoke the old cliche about the intuition of women? She decided against it. He might misunderstand. Where was her intuition when it came to Orson? "Because..." She hesitated, not wanting to appear pedagogic about her gender. The problem was to frame the explanation in a way he would understand: Lily didn't want the essence of you to touch her anymore. Instead she said: "It was her way of being faithful." Waiting, she listened for his reaction. "Sounds almost mystical," he drawled. "But I think I do catch your drift." He seemed tentative. "Call it a sisterly deduction," she said lightly. "It's the only explanation that makes sense." She paused. "And Edward, I believe it's important for you to know that it wasn't your child." "Well, then, that's one mystery that we can dispense with," he said. "Now we can get on to the others." He seemed to be fighting away irritation. "It was important to know, Edward." "Yes, I suppose it was," he agreed. "The lying bitch." "Don't you see? It wasn't your child that was killed. You can rest easy on that score." She had wanted to dispel his uncertainty. Wasn't that the point of the exercise? "Thanks, Viv," he said gently. "You're right. I wouldn't have wanted to live with that."
CHATBOT
Posle korotkogo molchaniia, v kotorom ona zhdala, kogda on vse poimet, Viv'en reshila, chto opredelenno sushchestvuet propast' mezhdu polami. "Teper' vspomni vnimatel'no. Ty govoril pro voskresen'ia. Dazhe nedavno." "Ona vsegda byla ochen' akkuratna v etikh voprosakh." On zamolchal. "Da, dazhe nedavno," probormotal on. "Znala li ona, chto beremenna?" "Ee tsikl byl kak chasy. Odin raz, dva goda nazad, ona zaderzhalas' na nedeliu. Ona srazu sdelala proverku." Viv'en pochuvstvovala, kak v nem zarozhdaetsia osoznanie etogo novogo otkrytiia. "Teper' posmotri sredi veshchei, kotorye dostali iz mesta krusheniia -- ee lichnye veshchi." Poka on iskal, ona vspomnila chto-to iz ee pamiati. Istoriiu Filippa Rota, v kotoroi diafragma stala simvolom predannosti. Stranno, kak umnozhilis' ee vospriiatiia, kolebalis' instinkty i ulavlivali dalekie simvoly, slovno ona prozhila mnogie gody v gustom tumannom bul'one, vse eti gody s Orsonom. V dali ona uslyshala ego shagi. Oni stanovilis' vsio gromche. Zatem ego golos snova vernulsia. "Eio tam ne bylo," skazal on. "Ona byla na svoem meste pod rakovinoi." "Vidish'?" Ona pochuvstvovala strannoe udovletvorenie, ponimaia, chto dostigla urovnia blizosti s Edvardom, kotoruiu nikogda ne delila ni s kem, dazhe s Orsonom. Na etu temu ona vsegda byla molchaliva, dazhe s Margo. "No esli ona znala, chto beremenna..." Ego golos ugas. Mogla li ona pribegnut' k izbitomu klishe ob intuitsii zhenshchin? Ona reshila ne delat' etogo. On mog nepravil'no poniat'. Gde byla ee intuitsiia, kogda delo kasalos' Orsona? "Potomu chto..." Ona kolebalas', ne zhelaia vygliadet' pedantichnoi v voprose svoego pola. Slozhnost' byla v tom, chtoby sformulirovat' ob'iasnenie tak, chtoby on ponial: Lili bol'she ne khotela, chtoby sushchnost' tebia kasalas' ee. Vmesto etogo ona skazala: "Eto byl ee sposob ostavat'sia vernoi." Ozhidaia, ona prislushalas' k ego reaktsii. "Zvuchit pochti misticheski," rastianul on. "No ia dumaiu, ia ponimaiu, o chem ty." On pokazalsia nereshitel'nym. "Schitai eto sestrinskim predpolozheniem," legko skazala ona. "Eto edinstvennoe ob'iasnenie, imeiushchee smysl." Ona zamolchala. "I, Edvard, ia dumaiu, vazhno, chtoby ty znal, chto eto ne byl tvoi rebenok." "Chto zh, togda eto odna zagadka, s kotoroi my mozhem rasproshchat'sia," skazal on. "Teper' my mozhem pereiti k ostal'nym." Kazalos', on pytaetsia sderzhat' razdrazhenie. "Vazhno bylo uznat', Edvard." "Da, navernoe, eto bylo vazhno," soglasilsia on. "Lgushchaia suka." "Razve ty ne ponimaesh'? Eto ne tvoi rebenok byl ubit. Mozhesh' byt' spokoen po etomu povodu." Ona khotela razveiat' ego neuverennost'. Razve ne v etom byla sut' uprazhneniia? "Spasibo, Viv," tikho skazal on. "Ty prava. Ia ne khotel by zhit' s etim."
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: Lifting his burden hadn't done much for her own. It galled her to know that Orson had fathered a child with a strange woman while she had yearned for another one, a companion for Ben. "We'll meet later, won't we?" she asked. For a moment it had worried her that he might have forgotten or been turned off by this new bit of deduction. "Of course," he said. "We have work to do." For a long time she sat by the phone, trying to spark her resolve. She got up and walked through the house. Despite all the material renunciations, Orson's presence continued to make itself felt. She sniffed the air, catching the old scents of him. Listening, she heard the floor creak with the rhythm of his movement. His whisper, like a cold alien wind, tickled her ear, mocking and accusatory. "You bastard," she cried aloud, turning, arms thrashing as she ran through the rooms. In the kitchen, she shattered glasses, threw dishes to the floor, defying his sense of neatness and order. Opening a cabinet, she gripped a stack of plates, a wedding gift from his sister, and slid them over the rim. Panting, she leaned against the wall and stared at the broken shards. "You fouled my home," she sobbed as she fought down hysteria. In the bathroom she splashed her face with tap water, diluting the burning salt tears. When her vision cleared, she watched her reflection in the full-length wall mirror. In the cruel, white light, her skin looked harsh, reddened by her rage. Is it really you? She traced the line of cheek and chin, assessing what had once seemed attractive. Her long black lashes fluttered over hazel eyes, greenish now, newly washed. Like her father's eyes, always gentle, calmly observant, yet transparent in anguish. Opening her robe, she saw her breasts, still high and firm. A "wellmade woman" was the way Orson had put it. She stood in profile, her bare skin alabaster in this light, her silhouette curved and womanly, the patch at the bottom of her belly, jet black and curly. Compared to others, she had always perceived herself as reasonably attractive, yet something short of beautiful. Sexy? For her there was only one reliable barometer, Orson's interest. One could not exactly call it lust. Sensuality between them had never been profound, and on the rare occasions when she was orgasmic, it seemed pallid compared with the descriptions of others she had heard or read. Yet she had never refused him. His demands were never urgent. But then, she had no real standard to judge his desire or enthusiasm. Sex between them had never been an issue, never a priority, never a point of contention. Was it something lacking in her, some secret well of desire that she failed to plumb? What had that other woman possessed? Almost without her realizing, her fingers were trailing lightly over her nipples, which had hardened. Her other hand caressed her thighs, moved through the warm moist thatch of hair, touching skillfully, finding the outer edge of pleasure. She felt the beginning of a rhythmic pulsation vibrating inside of her, a strange, mysterious sensation. A vague image surfaced in her mind: male flesh, musky, urgent. Edward! She turned away from the mirror in embarrassment. Quickly, she stepped into the shower, washed her hair, and blew it dry, satisfied that it shined and cascaded with healthy attractiveness. Then she made herself up with more care than she had taken in years. Dressing, she felt somewhat restored but offended by her earlier outburst and feelings of inadequacy. Fault yourself for ignorance, naivete, and gullibility, but not for some intangible female inadequacy, she rebuked herself. Never mind. They would get to the bottom of it somehow. She and Edward. By then she had totally dismissed her earlier fantasy.
CHATBOT
Osvobodiv ego ot bremeni, ona malo chto sdelala dlia sebia. Ee razdrazhalo osoznanie togo, chto Orson zavel rebenka s drugoi zhenshchinoi, v to vremia kak ona tak khotela drugogo, chtoby on byl sputnikom dlia Bena. "My vstretimsia pozzhe, ne tak li?" - sprosila ona. Na mgnovenie ei bylo bespokoino ot mysli, chto on, vozmozhno, zabyl ili otvernulsia iz-za etogo novogo dogadka. "Konechno," - skazal on. "U nas est' rabota." Dolgoe vremia ona sidela u telefona, pytaias' razzhech' v sebe reshimost'. Ona vstala i proshlas' po domu. Nesmotria na vse material'nye otrecheniia, prisutstvie Orsona prodolzhalo sebia proiavliat'. Ona niukhala vozdukh, ulavlivaia starye aromaty, prinadlezhavshie emu. Slushaia, ona slyshala, kak pol skripit pod ritmom ego shagov. Ego shepot, kak kholodnyi inoplanetnyi veter, laskal ee ukho, nasmeshlivyi i obviniaiushchii. "Tvar'," - krichala ona vslukh, obernuvshis', makhaia rukami, probegaia cherez komnaty. Na kukhne ona razbila stekla, brosala tarelki na pol, brosaia vyzov ego chuvstvu poriadka i akkuratnosti. Otkryv shkaf, ona skhvatila stopku tarelok, svadebnyi podarok ot ego sestry, i soskol'znula imi cherez krai. Zadykhaias', ona operlas' o stenu i ustavilas' na oskolki. "Ty oskvernil moi dom," - vskhlipyvala ona, borias' s isterikoi. V vannoi ona obryzgala svoe litso vodoi iz krana, razbavliaia solenye slezy. Kogda ee zrenie proiasnilos', ona nabliudala svoe otrazhenie v polnorazmernom zerkale na stene. V zhestkom belom svete ee kozha kazalas' gruboi, pokrasnevshei ot iarosti. Eto deistvitel'no ty? Ona provodila pal'tsem po linii shcheki i podborodka, otsenivaia to, chto kogda-to kazalos' privlekatel'nym. Ee dlinnye chernye resnitsy vzdymalis' nad orekhovymi glazami, teper' zelenovatymi, tol'ko chto umytymi. Kak u ee ottsa, vsegda nezhnye, spokoino nabliudaiushchie, no prozrachnye v svoei boli. Razdvinuv khalat, ona uvidela svoi grudi, vse eshche vysokie i uprugie. "Khorosho slozhennaia zhenshchina," - tak vyrazilsia Orson. Ona stoiala v profil', ee golaia kozha alebastrovoi na etom svete, ee siluet izognut i zhenstvennyi, chernaia i kudriavaia zaplatka u osnovaniia zhivota. Po sravneniiu s drugimi, ona vsegda schitala sebia dostatochno privlekatel'noi, khotia i ne v polnoi mere krasivoi. Seksual'naia? Dlia nee vsegda byl tol'ko odin nadezhnyi barometr - interes Orsona. Eto slozhno bylo nazvat' pokhot'iu. Seksual'nost' mezhdu nimi nikogda ne byla glubokoi, i v redkie razy, kogda ona ispytyvala orgazm, on kazalsia blednym po sravneniiu s opisaniiami drugikh, kotorye ona slyshala ili chitala. Tem ne menee, ona nikogda ne otkazyvala emu. Ego trebovaniia nikogda ne byli nastoichivymi. No togda u nee i ne bylo real'nogo standarta, chtoby sudit' o ego zhelanii ili entuziazme. Seks mezhdu nimi nikogda ne byl problemoi, nikogda ne byl prioritetom, nikogda ne stanovilsia predmetom spora. Bylo li eto chto-to nedostaiushchee v nei, kakoi-to tainyi kolodets zhelaniia, kotoryi ona ne mogla issledovat'? Chto obladala ta drugaia zhenshchina? Pochti ne osoznavaia, ee pal'tsy legko skol'zili po zatverdevshim soskam. Drugaia ruka laskovo kasalas' ee beder, probiralas' cherez tepluiu vlazhnuiu kopnu volos, iskusno prikasaias', nakhodia vneshnii krai udovol'stviia. Ona pochuvstvovala nachalo ritmichnogo pul'sirovaniia, vibriruiushchego vnutri nee, strannoe, tainstvennoe oshchushchenie. Razmytyi obraz vsplyl v ee ume: muzhskaia plot', muskusnaia, nastoichivaia. Edvard! Ona otvernulas' ot zerkala v smushchenii. Bystro ona voshla v dush, pomyla golovu i vysushila volosy fenom, dovol'naia tem, chto oni blesteli i kaskadom spadali s ee zdorovoi privlekatel'nost'iu. Zatem ona sdelala makiiazh s bol'shei tshchatel'nost'iu, chem za mnogie gody. Odevaias', ona chuvstvovala sebia neskol'ko vosstanovivsheisia, no vstrevozhennoi ee rannim vspleskom i chuvstvom nepolnotsennosti. Uprekni sebia za neznanie, naivnost' i legkoverie, no ne za kakuiu-to neulovimuiu zhenskuiu nesostoiatel'nost', - upreknula ona sebia. Nevazhno. Kakim-to obrazom oni doidut do istiny. Ona i Edvard. K tomu vremeni ona polnost'iu otbrosila svoiu predydushchuiu fantaziiu.