The magi, as you know, were wise men – wonderfully wise men – who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger |ясли|. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise |Будучи мудрыми|, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication |их можно было даже обменять, в случае повторения|. And here I have lamely |нескладно| related to you the uneventful |не насыщенную событиями| chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise |ко всем мудрым| of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits |saleratus – сода| and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to |удивляться, что старый колодец ближе к крыльцу, чем казался. Оборот used to значит, что раньше что-то происходило, но больше нет. I used to smoke – я раньше курил, но больше не курю|. Bless the day. President Roosevelt gives it to us. We hear some talk of the Puritans |о пуританах. Пуритане – это английские протестанты, часть из которых иммигрировала в Америку, они же и заложили основы праздника Дня Благодарения|, but don’t just remember who they were. Bet we can lick ‘em |Готов поспорить, мы бы намяли им бока. Первое значение слова to lick – облизать|, anyhow, if they try to land again. Plymouth Rocks |это место куда пуритане впервые высадились в Америке|? Well, that sounds more familiar. Lots of us have had to come down to hens since the Turkey Trust got its work in |Многим из нас пришлось перейти на курятину, когда в дело вмешался Индюшачий Трест. To come down – спуститься, снизойти, снизить запросы. Since – или “с какого-то времени”, или “раз уж…”|. But somebody in Washington is leaking |сливает| out advance information to ‘em about these Thanksgiving proclamations.
The big city |речь о Нью-Йорке| east of the cranberry bogs |клюквенных болот| has made Thanksgiving Day an institution |не институтом. Традицией|. The last Thursday in November is the only day in the year on which it recognizes the part of America lying across the ferries |единственный день…когда он признает ту часть Америки, которая лежит по ту сторону паромных переправ. Нью-Йорк лежит на островах и на момент написания рассказа (١٩٠٧ год), мостов, которые бы соединяли город с континентом было мало, а паромов было много. Только потом, с распространением автомобилей, а именно фордовской Model T, паромы вышли в тираж|. It is the one day that is purely American. Yes, a day of celebration, exclusively American.
And now for the story which is to prove to you |эта история докажет вам| that we have traditions on this side of the ocean that are becoming older at a much rapider |которые становятся старее, гораздо быстрее, чем…| rate than those of England are – thanks to our git-up and enterprise |настойчивости и предприимчивости|.
Stuffy Pete |Слово stuffy имеет много значений – душный, скучный, занудный, забитый, чопорный. Стаффи Пит – это явно кличка, но какое именно значение слова stuffy имел в виду О. Генри понять сложно, поэтому в русском переводе слово не было переведено. Стаффи Пит так и остался Стаффи Питом|, took his seat on the third bench to the right as you enter Union Square from the east at the walk opposite the fountain. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had taken his seat there promptly at 1 o’clock. For every time he had done so things had happened to him – Charles Dickensy things |события в духе Чарльза Диккенса случались с ним| that swelled |раздувало| his waistcoat above his heart, and equally |в равной степени| on the other side.
But to-day Stuffy Pete’s appearance at the annual trysting place |обычном месте| seemed to have been rather |казалось, что было скорее…| the result of habit than of the yearly hunger which, as the philanthropists seem to think, afflicts the poor at such extended intervals |буквально – мучают бедняков в такие большие интервалы. Лучше – по мнению филантропов, голод настигает бедных раз в году на День Благодарения (Тут О.Генри имеет в виду, что в Америке есть традиция подкармливать бедных в этот день)|.
Certainly Pete was not hungry. He had just come from a feast that had left him of his powers barely those of respiration and locomotion |он едва мог двигаться и дышать|. His eyes were like two pale gooseberries |ягоды крыжовника| firmly imbedded in a swollen and gravy-smeared mask of putty |опухший, намазанный соусом пластилин|. His breath came in short wheezes; a senatorial roll of adipose tissue denied a fashionable set to his upturned coat collar |складки депутатского жира на шее портили линию поднятого воротника пальто|. Buttons that had been sewed |были пришиты| upon his clothes by kind Salvation fingers |добрыми пальцами служителя Армии Спасения. Армия Спасения – одна из старейших христианских организаций, целью которой является помощь бедным, бездомным и т.д.| a week before flew like popcorn, strewing the earth around him |отлетали… усеивая|. Ragged |истрепанный, в лохмотьях| he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone |разорвана на груди|; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought him only a grateful coolness. For Stuffy Pete was overcharged with the caloric |перенасыщен калориями| produced by a super-bountiful dinner, beginning with oysters and ending with plum pudding, and including (it seemed to him) all the roast turkey and baked potatoes and chicken salad and squash pie and ice cream in the world. Wherefore |Вот почему| he sat, gorged, and gazed upon the world with after-dinner contempt |с послеобеденным презрением|.
The meal had been an unexpected one |Еда получилась неожиданной|. He was passing a red brick mansion near the beginning of Fifth avenue, in which lived two old ladies of ancient family and a reverence |с глубоким уважением| for traditions. They even denied the existence of New York, and believed that Thanksgiving Day was declared solely for Washington Square |квартал Нью-Йорка, где две старые леди и жили|. One of their traditional habits was to station |поставить| a servant at the postern gate |у задних ворот| with orders to admit |впустить| the first hungry wayfarer |путника| that came along after the hour of noon had struck, and banquet him to a finish |и накормить его до потери пульса|. Stuffy Pete happened |так случилось, что| to pass by on his way to the park, and the seneschals |сенешаль, он же швейцар| gathered him in and upheld the custom of the castle.
After Stuffy Pete had gazed straight before him for ten minutes he was conscious of a desire for a more varied field of vision |к нему пришло желание расширить кругозор|. With a tremendous effort he moved his head slowly to the left. And then his eyes bulged out fearfully |его глаза выкатились от страха|, and his breath ceased, and the rough-shod ends of his short legs wriggled and rustled on the gravel |и его ступни, обутые в грубую обувь, задергались по гравию|.
For the Old Gentleman |For здесь никак не переводится| was coming across Fourth avenue toward his bench.
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there, and had led him |отводил его| to a restaurant and watched him eat a big dinner. They do those things in England unconsciously. But this is a young country, and nine years is not so bad. The Old Gentleman was a staunch |преданный| American patriot, and considered himself a pioneer |«пионер» в смысле первооткрыватель| in American tradition. In order to become picturesque we must keep on doing one thing for a long time without ever letting it get away from us. Something like collecting the weekly dimes in industrial insurance |сбора еженедельных десятицентовых взносов в промышленном страховании|. Or cleaning the streets.
The Old Gentleman moved |двигался или приближался|, straight and stately, toward the Institution that he was rearing |он пестовал|. Truly, the annual feeding of Stuffy Pete was nothing national in its character, such as the Magna Charta |Великая Хартия| or jam for breakfast was in England. But it was a step. It was almost feudal |феодальное|. It showed, at least |по крайней мере|, that a Custom was not impossible to New Y —ahem! – America |в Нью-Й.., хм, в Америке|.
The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black, and wore the old-fashioned kind of glasses that won’t stay on your nose. His hair was whiter and thinner than it had been last year, and he seemed to make more use of his big, knobby cane |сучковатая трость| with the crooked handle.
As his established benefactor came up |приблизился| Stuffy wheezed and shuddered like some woman’s over-fat pug when a street dog bristles up at him |начал дрожать и скулить как перекормленная болонка некой женщины при приближении уличного пса|. He would have flown |конструкция would have и третья форма глагола значит, что он бы что-то сделал, но не смог: он бы спасся бегством…|, but all the skill of Santos-Dumont could not have separated him |даже святая сила не оторвала бы его| from his bench. Well had the myrmidons |приспешники| of the two old ladies done their work.
