| Now the boys who landed like a downpour of bright autumn trash were in this order: | I sad, dječaci što prizemljiše poput pljuska jarkoga jesenskoga krša, stigoše ovim redom: |
| Tom Skelton, dressed up in his delicious Bones. Henry-Hank, more or less a Witch. | Tom Skelton, odjeven u svoje elegantne kosti. Henry-Hank, manje-više Vještica. |
| Ralph Bengstrum, an unraveled Mummy, becoming more unbandaged by the minute. | Ralph Bengstrum, razmotana mumija, iz časa u čas sve razmotanija. |
| A Ghost named George Smith. | Utvara koja se zvala George Smith. |
| J.J. (no other name needed) a very fine Apeman. Wally Babb who said he was a Gargoyle, but everyone said he looked more like Quasimodo. | J.J. (bez potrebe za još nekim imenom), sasvim pristali pračovjek. Wally Babb koji je rekao da je on garguj, no svi su tvrdili da je mnogo sličniji Quasimodu. |
| Fred Fryer, what else but a beggar fresh out of a ditch. | Fred Fryer, koji je inače bio prosjak netom ustao iz grabe. |
| And last and not least, “Hackles” Nibley who had run up a costume at the last moment by simply clapping on a white scare-mask and grabbing his grandpa’s harvest scythe off the garage wall. | I zadnji po redu, ali ne i važnosti, "Hackles" Nibley, koji je u zadnji čas pribavio kostim time što sije u lice utrljao bijelu jezivu masku, i sa zida garaže dohvatio djedovu kosu. |
| All the boys being safely landed on English earth, their billion autumn leaves fell off and blew away. | Kad su svi dječaci sigurno prizemljili na englesko tlo, s njih je spala milijarda jesenskih listova, da bi je potom otpuhao vjetar. |
| They stood in the midst of a vast field of wheat. | Stajali su usred golemog žitnoga polja. |
| “Here, Master Nibley, I brought your scythe. Take it. Grab! Now lie low!” warned Moundshroud. “The Druid God of the Dead! Samhain! Fall!” | "Evo, gospodaru Nibley, donio sam vam vašu kosu. Uzmite je. Drži! A sad lezite!" upozorio je Grobolijes. "Druidski Bog smrti! Samhain! Lezi!" |
| They fell. | Svi popadaše. |
| For a huge scythe came skimming down out of the sky. With its great razor edge it cut the wind. With its whistling side it sliced clouds. It beheaded trees. It razored along the cheek of the hill. It made a clean shave of wheat. In the air a whole blizzard of wheat fell. | Iz neba se sručila golema kosa. Svojom velikom oštricom, britkom kao britva, presjekla je vjetar. Svojim zviždavim bridom isjekla je oblake. Obezglavila drveće. Zabrijala obrazom brda. Čisto obrijala žito. Kroz zrak je padala čitava mećava klasja. |
| And with every whisk, every cut, every scythe, the sky was aswarm with cries and shrieks and screams. | I pri svakom zamahu, svakom zasjeku, svakom otkosu, nebom bi se zarojili krikovi i vriskovi i jauci. |
| The scythe hissed up. | Kosa se psiktavo podigla. |
| The boys cowered. | Dječaci su pokrili glave. |
| “Hunh!” grunted a large voice. | "Hanh", progunđao je krupan glas. |
| “Mr. Moundshroud, is that you!” cried Tom. | "Gospodine Grobolijes, jeste to vi?" uskliknuo je Tom. |
| For towering forty feet above them in the sky, an immense scythe in his hands, was this cowled figure, its face in midnight fogs. | Jer uzdižući se petnaest metara nad njima u nebo, s golemom kosom u rukama, stajao je zakukuljeni lik, lica zastrta ponoćnom maglom. |
| The blade swung down: hisssssss! | Oštrica se uz zamah spustila: Psssssssil |
| “Mr. Moundshroud, let us be!” | "Gospodine Grobolijes, poštedite nas!" |
| “Shut up.” Someone knocked Toms elbow. Mr. Moundshroud lay on the earth beside him. “That’s not me. That’s—” | "Daj šuti." Netko je Toma trknuo u lakat. Gospodin Grobolijes je ležao na tlu do njega. "To nisam ja. To je..." |
| “Samhain!” cried the voice in the fog. “God of the Dead! I harvest thus, and so!” | "Samhain!" uskliknuo je glas iz magle. "Bog mrtvih! Ja žanjem ovako, i to!" |
| Sssss-whoooshhhh! | Zzzzz-uuuummm! |
| “All those who died this year are here! And for their sins, this night, are turned to beasts!” | "Svi koji umriješe ove godine, sada su tu! I zbog grijeha su svojih, u ovu noć, pretvoreni u zvijeri." |
| Sssssswooommmmmmm! “Please,” whimpered Ralph-the-Mummy | Zzzzzzzuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm! "Milost", zašmrcao je Ralph Mumija. |
| “Sssssssttttt! The scythe zippered Hackles Nibley’s spine, ripping his costume in a long tear, knocking his own small scythe free of his hands. | Sssssttt! Kosa je otvorila patent-zatvarač Hackles Nibleyjeve kralježnice, razderala mu halje jednom dugom poderotinom, iz ruke mu izbila njegovu malu kosu. |
| “Beasts!” | "Zvijeri!" |
| And the harvest wheat, flailed up, spun round on the wind, shrieking its souls, all those who had died in the past twelve months, rained to earth. And falling, touching, the heads of wheat were turned to asses, chickens, snakes which scurried, cackled, brayed; were turned to dogs and cats and cows that barked, cried, bawled. But all were miniature. All were tiny, small, no bigger than worms, no bigger than toes, no bigger than the sliced-off tip of a nose. By the hundreds and thousands the wheat heads snowed up in scatters and fell down as spiders which could not shout or beg or weep for mercy, but which, soundless, raced over the grass, poured over the boys. A hundred centipedes tiptoed on Ralph’s spine. Two hundred leeches clung to Hackles Nibley’s scythe until with a nightmare gasp he raved and shook them off. Everywhere fell black widows and tiny boa constrictors. | I požnjeveno žito, kao uzvitlano mlatovima, zavrtjelo se u zraku, vrišteći svim svojim dušama, dušama svih onih koji umriješe u proteklih dvanaest mjeseci, i zakišilo po tlu. I dok su padale, doticale se, glave su se klasja pretvarale u magarce, piliće, zmije, koji su repeljali, kvocali, njakali; pretvarali se u pse i mačke i krave koje su lajale, mjaukale, mukale. No sve je to bilo u minijaturi. Sve su životinje bile sićušne, male, ne veće od crva, ne veće od nožnih prstiju, ne veće od odsječenog vrha nosa. U stotinama i tisućama klasje je sniježilo u razbacanim snopovima, i padalo poput pauka koji nisu mogli ni vikati ni moljakati ni plakati za milost, već koji su, u potpunoj tišini, jurili preko trave, izlijevali se na dječake. Stotinu se stonoga na prstima uspelo na Ralphovu kralježnicu. Dvije se stotine pijavica objesilo za kosu Hacklesa Nibleyja sve dok on, izdahnuvši kao da ga guši mora, nije pobjesnio i otresao ih. Odasvuda su padale crne udovice i sićušni udavi. |
| “For your sins! Your sins! Take that! And this!” bellowed the voice in the whistling sky. | "Za vaše grijehe! Vaše grijehe! Evo vam! I evo!" urlao je glas iz razviždana neba. |
