Роберт Говард – Английский язык с Конаном-варваром (страница 39)
action [ˈækʃn], glade [ɡleɪd], lip [lp]
And suiting action to words, he plunged after the Cimmerian. Conan glanced back at him, but made no objection, though he did not moderate his pace to accommodate the shorter legs of his companion. Balthus wasted his wind in swearing as the Cimmerian drew away from him again, like a phantom between the trees, and then Conan burst into a dim glade and halted crouching, lips snarling, sword lifted.
"What are we stopping for?" panted Balthus, dashing the sweat out of his eyes and gripping his short sword (/для/ чего мы стоим? — пропыхтел Балтус, смахивая пот из /своих/ глаз и хватая свой короткий меч).
"That scream came from this glade, or near by," answered Conan (тот крик раздался с этой поляны, или поблизости, — ответил Конан). "I don't mistake the location of sounds, even in the woods. But where — (я не ошибаюсь с местом звуков =
Abruptly the sound rang out again —
mistake [msˈteɪk], direction [dɪˈrekʃn], laughter [lɑ: ftə]
"What are we stopping for?" panted Balthus, dashing the sweat out of his eyes and gripping his short sword.
"That scream came from this glade, or near by," answered Conan. "I don't mistake the location of sounds, even in the woods. But where —»
Abruptly the sound rang out again —
"What in Mitra's name — " Balthus' face was a pale blur in the gloom (что во имя Митры — лицо Балтуса было бледным пятном во мраке).
With a scorching oath Conan wheeled and dashed back the way he had come (с убийственным ругательством Конан повернулся и бросился назад /по/ пути, которым он пришел;
stop [stɔp], statue [ˈstæʧu: ], track [træk]
"What in Mitra's name — " Balthus' face was a pale blur in the gloom.
With a scorching oath Conan wheeled and dashed back the way he had come, and the Aquilonian stumbled bewilderedly after him. He blundered into the Cimmerian as the latter stopped dead, and rebounded from his brawny shoulders as though from an iron statue. Gasping from the impact, he heard Conan's breath hiss through his teeth. The Cimmerian seemed frozen in his tracks.
Looking over his shoulder, Balthus felt his hair stand up stiffly (заглянув через его плечо, Балтус почувствовал, /как/ его =
flew [flu: ], bulky [ˈbʌlkɪ], reason [ri: zn]
Looking over his shoulder, Balthus felt his hair stand up stiffly. Something was moving through the deep bushes that fringed the trail — something that neither walked nor flew, but seemed to glide like a serpent. But it was not a serpent. Its outlines were indistinct, but it was taller than a man, and not very bulky. It gave off a glimmer of weird light, like a faint blue flame. Indeed, the eery fire was the only tangible thing about it. It might have been an embodied flame moving with reason and purpose through the blackening woods.
Conan snarled a savage curse and hurled his ax with ferocious will (Конан прорычал дикое проклятие и метнул свой топор с ужасной: «свирепой» энергией =
alter [ˈɔ: ltə], fleet [fli: t], crouched [krauʧt]
Conan snarled a savage curse and hurled his ax with ferocious will. But the thing glided on without altering its course. Indeed it was only a few instants' fleeting glimpse they had of it — a tall, shadowy thing of misty flame floating through the thickets. Then it was gone, and the forest crouched in breathless stillness.
With a snarl Conan plunged through the intervening foliage and into the trail (с рычанием Конан нырнул сквозь переплетающуюся листву /и/ на тропу). His profanity, as Balthus floundered after him, was lurid and impassioned (его богохульство =
"Tricked us with its damnable caterwauling!" raved Conan, swinging his great sword about his head in his wrath (надул нас своим проклятым кошачим визгом, — бушевал Конан, размахивая своим огромным мечом вокруг /своей/ головы в /своей/ ярости). "I might have known (я мог знать =
foliage [ˈfəulɪɪʤ], lurid [ˈljuərɪd], longer [ˈlɔŋə]
With a snarl Conan plunged through the intervening foliage and into the trail. His profanity, as Balthus floundered after him, was lurid and impassioned. The Cimmerian was standing over the litter on which lay the body of Tiberias. And that body no longer possessed a head.
"Tricked us with its damnable caterwauling!" raved Conan, swinging his great sword about his head in his wrath. "I might have known! I might have guessed a trick! Now there'll be five heads to decorate Zogar's altar."
"But what thing is it that can cry like a woman and laugh like a devil (но что за тварь это, что может кричать, как женщина, и смеяться, как демон), and shines like witch-fire (и /при этом/ светится, как колдовской огонь) as it glides through the trees (когда оно скользит сквозь деревья)?" gasped Balthus, mopping the sweat from his pale face (выдохнул Балтус, вытирая пот со своего бледного лица).
"A swamp devil," responded Conan morosely (болотный демон, — ответил Конан угрюмо). "Grab those poles (хватай эти палки). We'll take in the body, anyway (мы заберем тело, так или иначе). At least our load's a bit lighter (по крайней мере, наш груз немного легче)."