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| PREKRASNA SMRT DUDLEYJA STONEA | The Wonderful Death of Dudley Stone |
| "Živ!" | "Alive!" |
| "Mrtav!" | "Dead!" |
| "Živ u New Englandu, do sto đavola." | "Alive in New England, damn it." |
| "Umro prije dvadeset godina!" | "Died twenty years ago!" |
| "Neka zakruži šešir, pa ću osobno otići i donijeti vam njegovu glavu!" | "Pass the hat, I'll go myself and bring back his head!" |
| Eto kako je čitavo veče tekao razgovor. A pokrenuo ga je neki neznanac, kad je izvalio nešto u smislu da je Dudley Stone mrtav. Živ kriknusmo. A zar mi to ne bismo morali najbolje znati? Nismo li baš mi zadnji lomni ostaci onih koji smo mu dvadesetih godina kadili i u svjetlosti blistavih intelektualnih zavjeta čitali njegove knjige? | That's how the talk went that night. A stranger set it off with his mouthings about Dudley Stone dead. Alive! we cried. And shouldn't we know? Weren't we the last frail remnants of those who had burnt incense and read his books by the light of blazing intellectual votives in the twenties? |
| Veliki Dudley Stone. Veličanstveni stilist, najgordiji od svih književnih lavova. Zacijelo se sjećate onog lupanja glavom, onoga skakanja s litice, onoga zvižduka kobi što je uslijedio nakon što je svom nakladniku poslao pismo: | The Dudley Stone. That magnificent stylist, that proudest of literary lions. Surely you recall the head-pounding, the cliff-jumping, the whistlings of doom that followed on his writing his publishers this note: |
| Štovana gospodo, danas, u svojoj tridesetoj godini, ja se povlačim s bojišta, ostavljam se pisanja, spaljujem sve bilješke, a posljednji rukopis bacam u smeće, i kličem živi bili i zbogom. S pošt. | Sirs: Today, aged 30, I retire from the field, renounce writing, burn all my effects, toss my latest manuscript on the dump, cry hail and fare thee well. Yrs., affect. |
| Dudley Stone | Dudley Stone |
| Potresi i lavine, tim redom. | Earthquakes and avalanches, in that order. |
| "Zašto?" pitali smo se godinama, kad god bismo se našli. | "Why?" we asked ourselves, meeting down the years. |
| U najboljoj maniri filmske limunade, raspravljali smo ne stoji li iza njegove odluke da odbaci književnu karijeru neka žena. Ili možda Boca. Ili su ga to možda pretekli Konji i tako to rasno grlo zaustavili u naponu snage? | In fine soap-opera fashion we debated if it was women caused him to hurl his literary future away. Was it the Bottle? Or Horses that outran him and stopped a fine pacer in his prime? |
| I slobodno smo obznanjivali svima i svakome: da je Stone nastavio pisati, zatrpao bi svojom lavom i Faulknera, i Hemingwaya i Steinbecka. Utoliko tužnije što se Stone, na rubu svog najvećeg djela, jednoga dana okrenuo na peti i otišao živjeti u grad kojeg ćemo nazvati Opskurnost, na obali mora kojemu bi najbolje pristajalo ime Prošlost. | We freely admitted to one and all, that were Stone writing now, Faulkner, Hemingway, and Steinbeck would be buried in his lava. All the sadder that Stone, on the brink of his greatest work, turned one day and went off to live in a town we shall call Obscurity by the sea best named The Past. |
| "Zašto?" | "Why?" |
| To je ime nastavilo zauvijek živjeti u nama koji smo u njegovim šarenim djelima vidjeli bljesak genija. | That question forever lived with those of us who had seen the glints of genius in his piebald works. |
| Jedne večeri, prije nekoliko tjedana, dok smo razmišljali o eroziji godina, i jedan drugome na licu nalazili sve naglašenije kesice i sve upadljivije prorijeđeno brojno stanje kose, obuzeo nas je bijes zbog dubokog neznanja tipičnoga građanina glede Dudleyja Stonea. | One night a few weeks ago, musing off the erosion of the years, finding each others' faces somewhat more pouched and our hairs more conspicuously in absence, we became enraged over the typical citizen's ignorance of Dudley Stone. |
| Mrmljali smo kako je Thomas Wolfe, prije nego što se uhvatio za nos i skočio preko ruba Vječnosti, bar skupio punu mjericu uspjeha. Kad je on uronio u tminu, bar su se skupili kritičari da u to zure, kao poslije meteora koji je u prolazu stvorio puno vatre. Ali tko se još sjećao Dudleyja Stonea, njegovih koterija, njegovih grozničavih sljedbenika iz dvadesetih godina? | At least, we muttered, Thomas Wolfe had had a full measure of success before he seized his nose and jumped off the rim of Eternity. At least the critics gathered to stare after his plunge into darkness as after a meteor that made much fire in its passing. But who now remembered Dudley Stone, his coteries, his frenzied followers of the twenties? |
| "Neka zakruži šešir", rekoh. "Proputovat ću tri stotine milja, uhvatiti Dudleyja Stonea za hlače i reći: 'Ma slušajte vi, gospodine Stone, zašto ste nas tako gnusno ostavili na cjedilu? Zašto za dvadeset pet godina niste napisali nijednu knjigu?'" | "Pass the hat," I said. "I'll travel three hundred miles, grab Dudley Stone by the pants and say: 'Look here, Mr. Stone, why did you let us down so badly? Why haven't you written a book in twenty-five years?'" |
| Šešir se napunio novčanicama; poslao sam brzojav i sjeo na vlak. | The hat was lined with cash; I sent a telegram and took a train. |
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| Zapravo ne znam ni sam što sam očekivao. Možda da ću naći drhtavu i lomnu bogomoljku što, nošena vjetrovima, treperi na kolodvoru; kredno bijelu utvaru koja će iz prazne ljušture hripati na mene glasovima trske i trave zibane noćnim vjetrom. Dok je vlak čučukavo ulazio u stanicu, od bola sam si stezao koljena. I pustio sam se u krajolik, milju od mora, poput čovjeka budalasto ludog, i pitao se što mi je sve to trebalo. | I do not know what I expected. Perhaps to find a doddering and frail praying mantis, whisping about the station, blown by seawinds, a chalk-white ghost who would husk at me with the voices of grass and reeds blown in the night. I clenched my knees in agony as my train chuffed into the station. I let myself down into a lonely country-side, a mile from the sea, like a man foolishly insane, wondering why I had come so far. |
| Na oglasnoj ploči, ispred daskama zakovane biljetarnice, otkrio sam čitav snop obavijesti, nekoliko palaca debeo, što su ih tu lijepili i zakivali jedne na druge već nebrojene godine. Listajući sve dublje, guleći antropološke slojeve tiskanoga tkiva, napokon sam našao što sam tražio. Dudleyja Stonea za odbornika, Dudleyja Stonea za šerifa, Dudleyja Stonea za gradonačelnika! Iz godine u godinu njegova je fotografija, izblijedjela od sunca i kiše, i jedva raspoznatljiva, tražila sve odgovorniji položaj u tom životu svijeta kraj mora. Stajao sam i čitao. | On a bulletin board in front of the boarded-up ticket office I found a cluster of announcements, inches thick, pasted and nailed one upon another for uncountable years. Leafing under, peeling away anthropological layers of printed tissue I found what I wanted. Dudley Stone for alderman, Dudley Stone for Sheriff, Dudley Stone for mayor! On up through the years his photograph, bleached by sun and rain, faintly recognizable, asked for ever more responsible positions in the life of this world near the sea. I stood reading them. |
| "Hej!" | "Hey!" |
| I preko kolodvorskoga perona, negdje iza leđa, prema meni je najednom poletio Dudley Stone. "To ste vi, gospodine Douglas!" Naglo sam se okrenuo i našao se oči u oči s tom monumentalnom arhitekturom od čovjeka, krupnim ali bez i traga sala, s nogama nalik na goleme štapove koji ga tlače, s jarkim cvijetom u zapućku, i jarkom kravatom oko vrata. Zdrobio mi je ruku i pogledao me s visine poput Michelangelova Boga u trenutku kad svojim silnim dodirom stvara Adama. Lice mu je bilo lice onih naslikanih sjevernih i južnih vjetrova što pušu topli i hladni na drevnim pomorskim kartama. Bilo je to lice što na starim egipatskim reljefima simbolizira Sunce, lice što plamti životom! | And Dudley Stone plunged across the station platform behind me suddenly. "Is that you, Mr. Douglas!" I whirled to confront this great architecture of a man, big but not in the least fat, his legs huge pistons thrusting him on, a bright flower in his lapel, a bright tie at his neck. He crushed my hand, looked down upon me like Michelangelo's God creating Adam with a mighty touch. His face was the face of those illustrated North Winds and South Winds that blow hot and cold in ancient mariners' charts. It was the face that symbolizes the sun in Egyptian carvings, ablaze with life! |
| O, Bože! pomislio sam. I to je čovjek koji već dvadesetak godina nije napisao ni retka. Nemoguće. On je tako pun života, da je to već skoro grijeh. Čujem kako mu kuca srce! | My God! I thought. And this is the man who hasn't written in twenty-odd years. Impossible. He's so alive it's sinful. I can hear his heartbeat! |
| Zacijelo sam stajao tako, baš jako razrogačivši oči, kako bi mi njegova slika što lakše nalegla na zapanjena osjetila. | I must have stood with my eyes very wide to let the look of him cram in upon my startled senses. |
| "Misliš da si otkrio Marleyeva duha", nasmijao se on. "Priznaj." | "You thought you'd find Marley's Ghost," he laughed. "Admit it." |
| "Ja..." | "I--" |
| "Moja žena već čeka s novoengleskim loncem, a imamo i obilje i svijetlog i tamnog piva. Sviđa mi se kako te riječi zvone. Od svijetlog se nećeš razboljeti, nego će ti razbistriti smućeni duh. Kakva slikovita riječ. A tamno? Ima tu nečeg zgusnutog i nabitog. Tamno!" Od prsluka mu se odbio veliki zlatni sat, obješen o sjajne lance. Stisnuo mi je lakat kao škripcem i nastavio me šarmirati čitavim putom, čarobnjak što se sa zlosretnim kunićem zaputio prema svojoj špilji. "Drago mi je što te vidim! Pretpostavljao sam da ćeš doći, baš kao što i drugi dolaze, da mi postaviš isto pitanje, eh! Pa dobro, ovaj ću ti put sve ispričati!" | "My wife's waiting with a New England boiled dinner, we've plenty of ale and stout. I like the ring of those words. To ale is not to sicken, but to revive the flagging spirit. A tricky word, that. And stout? There's a nice ruddy sound to it. Stout!" A great golden watch bounced on his vest-front, hung in bright chains. He vised my elbow and charmed me along, a magician well on his way back to his cave with a luckless rabbit. "Glad to see you! I suppose you've come, as the others came, to ask the same question, eh! Well, this time I'll tell everything!" |
| Meni je poskočilo srce. "Prekrasno!" | My heart jumped. "Wonderful!" |
| Iza prazne stanice stajao je otvoreni Fordov Model-T iz 1927. "Svjež zrak. Kad se voziš tako u sumrak, onda vjetar u tebe unosi sva polja, svu travu, svo cvijeće. Nadam se da nisi od onih koji se šuljaju i zatvaraju prozore! Naša je kuća kao vrh mese. Svo pometanje prepuštamo vjetru. Uskači!" | Behind the empty station sat an open-top 1927-vintage Model-T Ford. "Fresh air. Drive at twilight like this, you get all the fields, the grass, the flowers, coming at you in the wind. I hope you're not one of those who tiptoe around shutting windows! Our house is like the top of a mesa. We let the weather do our broom-work. Hop in!" |
| Deset minuta potom zavili smo, s glavne ceste, na prilaznu stazu na kojoj nitko već godinama nije zatrpavao rupe niti ju je poravnavao. Stone je povezao ravno preko graba i grba, ne prestajući se smiješiti. Tras! Protresli smo se i posljednjih nekoliko metara što su vodili do divlje, neobojene katnice. Potom je pustio auto da sam otkrklja do grobne tišine. | Ten minutes later we swung off the highway onto a drive that had not been leveled or filled in years. Stone drove straight on over the pits and bumps, smiling steadily. Bang! We shuddered the last few yards to a wild, unpainted two-story house. The car was allowed to gasp itself away into mortal silence. |
| "Želiš čuti istinu?" Stone se okrenuo i pogledao me u oči i uhvatio me za rame nestrpljivom rukom. "Skoro točno na današnji dan, prije dvadeset godina, mene su ubili iz pištolja." | "Do you want the truth?" Stone turned to look me in the face and hold my shoulder with an earnest hand. "I was murdered by a man with a gun twenty-five years ago almost to this very day." |
| On je iskočio iz automobila, a ja ostao sjediti i zuriti za njim. Bio je čvrst kao tona kamenja, u njemu nije bilo ni spomena nikakve utvare, pa ipak sam znao da je to što mi je rekao prije nego što je, kao iz topa, poletio prema kući, u nekom smislu istina. | I sat staring after him as he leapt from the car. He was solid as a ton of rock, no ghost to him, but yet I knew that somehow the truth was in what he had told me before firing himself like a cannon at the house. |
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| "Ovo je moja žena, ovo je moja kuća, a ovo je večera što na nas čeka! A vidi samo pogled. Prozori s tri strane dnevne sobe, pogled na more, obalu, livade. Mi zakucamo prozore tako da budu otvoreni tri od četiri godišnja doba. Kunem ti se da ovdje ljeti nanjušiš limune, a kad dođe prosinac, ponešto od Antarktike, amonijaka i sladoleda. Daj sjedni! Lena, zar nije krasno što nam je došao?" | "This is my wife, and this is the house, and that is our supper waiting for us! Look at our view. Windows on three sides of the living room, a view of the sea, the shore, the meadows. We nail the windows open three out of four seasons. I swear you get a smell of limes here midsummer, and something from Antarctica, ammonia and ice cream, come December. Sit down! Lena, isn't it nice having him here?" |
| "Nadam se da volite novoengleski lonac", rekla je Lena, sad tu, sad tamo, visoka, čvrsto građena žena, sunce na istoku, kći Djeda Mraza, sjajna svjetiljka lica što nam je osvjetljavala stol dok je tako dijelila teške, praktične tanjure, napravljene da izdrže udarac orijaševe šake. Stolni je pribor bio tako solidan, da bi se njime mogao lavu ispukati zub. Potom se digao velik oblak pare, kroz koji radosno siđosmo, grešnici u pakao. | "I hope you like New England boiled dinner," said Lena, now here, now there, a tall, firmly-built woman, the sun in the East, Father Christmas' daughter, a bright lamp of a face that lit our table as she dealt out the heavy useful dishes made to stand the pound of giants' fists. The cutlery was solid enough to take a lion's teeth. A great whiff of steam rose up, through which we gladly descended, sinners into Hell. |
| Vidio sam kako se preda mnom triput mijenjaju tanjuri i osjetio kako mi se u prsima, grlu te napokon i u ušima skuplja balast. Dudley Stone mi je natočio mlado vino što ga je napravio od divljeg stolnog concordskoga grožđa, i koje je, veli, vapilo da ga netko popije. Kad je vinska boca bila ispražnjena, Stone je tiho zapuhao u njezina zelena staklena usta, i tako iz nje istjerao ritmičku jednotonsku melodiju koju smo brzo prihvatili. | I saw the seconds-plate skim by three times and felt the ballast gather in my chest, my throat, and at last my ears. Dudley Stone poured me a brew he had made from wild Concords that had cried for mercy, he said. The wine bottle, empty, had its green glass mouth blown softly by Stone, who summoned out a rhythmic one-note tune that was quickly done. |
| "No dobro, mislim da sam te pustio da i predugo čekaš", rekao je gledajući me iz daljine što je piće stvara među ljudima, no koja je, zbog čudne izvrnutosti te večeri, izgledala kao sama bliskost. "Ispričat ću ti o svom umorstvu. Nikad to još nisam ispričao nikome; vjeruj mi. Čuo si za Johna Oatisa Kendalla?" | "Well, I've kept you waiting long enough," he said, peering at me from that distance which drinking adds between people and which, at odd turns in the evening, seems closeness itself. "I'll tell you about my murder. I've never told anyone before; believe me. Do you know John Oatis Kendall?" |
| "Pisac drugoga reda iz dvadesetih godina, jel taj?" odgovorio sam. "Nekoliko knjiga. Istrošio se do '31. Umro prošli tjedan." | "A minor writer in the twenties, wasn't he?" I said. "A few books. Burnt out by '31. Died last week." |
| "Bog mu dao pokoj duši." Sad je gospodin Stone utonuo u kratku melankoliju posebne vrste, iz koje se trgnuo tek kad je ponovno progovorio. | "God rest him." Mr. Stone lapsed into a special brief melancholy from which he revived as he began to speak again. |
| "Da. John Oatis Kendall, istrošio se do godine 1931., pisac velikih mogućnosti." | "Yes. John Oatis Kendall, burnt out by the year 1931, a writer of great potentialities." |
| "Ne tako velikih kao tvoje", dodao sam brzo. | "Not as great as yours," I said, quickly. |
| "Daj, čekaj malo. Skupa smo proveli djetinjstvo, John Oatis i ja, i rodili se na mjestu gdje sjena istoga hrasta ujutro dotiče moju, a uvečer njegovu kuću, i zajedno preplivali sve potoke na svijetu, zajedno obolijevali od zelenih jabuka i cigareta, zajedno u istoj plavoj kosi iste mlade djevojke viđali isto svjetlo, pa smo tako, približivši se dvadestoj godini života, zajedno pošli i raspaliti Sreću u trbuh i zajedno dobiti po glavi. Obojici nam je krenulo, samo što sam ja bio bolji, a iz godine u godinu i sve bolji od njega. Ako je njegova prva knjiga zaradila jedan dobar prikaz, moja ih je zaradila šest, a kad bih ja dobio jedan loš prikaz, njegova bi ih dobila tucet. | "Well, just wait. We were boys together, John Oatis and I, born where the shade of an oak tree touched my house in the morning and his house at night, swam every creek in the world together, got sick on sour apples and cigarettes together, saw the same lights in the same blonde hair of the same young girl together, and in our late teens went out to kick Fate in the stomach and get heat on the head together. We both did fair, and then I better and still better as the years ran. If his first book got one good notice, mine got six, if I got one bad notice, he got a dozen. |
| Bili smo poput dva prijatelja u vlaku koje je razdvojilo mnoštvo. I tako su Johna Oatisa odvukli u prtljažna kola, ostavili ga na kraju, odakle je kričao: 'Spasi me! Ostavljaš me u Tank Townu, Ohio; na istoj smo pruzi!' Našto mu kondukter odgovara: 'Da, ali ne i u istom vlaku!' A ja pak vičem: 'Ja u tebe vjerujem, John, daj imaj srca, vratit ću se po tebe!' I onda prtljažna kola zaostaju za nama, sjajeći crvenim i zelenim lampama kao i lilihipima od višnje i limuna, i mi se dovikujemo i uvjeravamo jedan drugog u svoje prijateljstvo: 'John, stari moj!' 'Dudley, staro momče!' dok John Oatis u ponoć odlazi na mračni kolosijek iza utovarnog skladišta, a ja ostajem u lokomotivi koja, s limenom glazbom i sva okićena, ključa i hukće ususret zori." | We were like two friends on a train which the public has uncoupled. There went John Oatis on the caboose, left behind, crying out, 'Save me! You're leaving me in Tank Town, Ohio; we're on the same track!' And the conductor saying, 'Yes, but not the same train!' And myself yelling, 'I believe in you, John, he of good heart, I'll come back for you!' And the caboose dwindling behind with its red and green lamps like cherry and lime pops shining in the dark and we yelling our friendship to each other: 'John, old man!' 'Dudley, old pal!' while John Oatis went out on a dark siding behind a tin baling-shed at midnight and my engine, with all the flag-wavers and brass bands, boiled on toward dawn." |
| Dudley Stone je zastao i opazio moj izraz opće zbunjenosti. "Sve je to dovelo do mog umorstva", rekao je. "Jer je godine 193O. baš John Oatis Kendall malo stare odjeće i nekoliko zaostalih primjeraka svoje knjige trampio za pištolj, pa došao i u ovu kuću i ovu sobu." | Dudley Stone paused and noticed my look of general confusion. "All this to lead up to my murder," he said. "For it was John Oatis Kendall who, in 1930, traded a few old clothes and some remaindered copies of his books for a gun and came out to this house and this room." |
| "Zaista te mislio ubiti?" | "He really meant to kill you?" |
| "Mislio, dođavola! Što mislio, ubio! Bum. Jesi za još malo vina? Bravo." | "Meant to, hell! He did! Bang! Have some more wine? That's better." |
| Dok je on uživao u mojoj mucavoj napetosti, gospođa je Stone na stol stavila biskvit s kremom od jagoda. Stone gaje razrezao u tri goleme kriške, pa ga poslužio, a onda me počeo fiksirati svojom ljubeznom aproksimacijom očiju gladnoga djeteta pred izlogom slastičarnice. | A strawberry shortcake was set upon the table by Mrs. Stone, while he enjoyed my gibbering suspense. Stone sliced it into three huge chunks and served it around, fixing me with his kindly approximation of the Wedding Guest's eye. |
| "Baš je tu sjedio, on, John Oatis, na toj stolici na kojoj ti sada sjediš. | "There he sat, John Oatis, in that chair where you sit now. |
| Iza njega, vani, u sušari, sedamnaest šunki; u našem vinskom podrumu pet stotina boca najbolje kapljice; pod prozorom otvoren vidik, elegantno more u svoj svojoj čipki; nad nama Mjesec kao zdjela hladnoga šlaga, posvuda proljeće u svom krasu, a s druge strane stola i Lena, breza na vjetru, i smije se svemu što velim ili radije ne velim, oboje imamo trideset godina, pazi, trideset smo godina stari, život je naš veličanstveni vrtuljak, naši prsti sviraju napete strune, moje se knjige dobro prodaju, pisma obožavatelja padaju po nama, šuštava i bijela, u slapu, a u štalama konji za jahanje po mjesečini do dražica gdje mi ili more šapćemo o svemu što želimo u toj noći. | Behind him, outside, in the smokehouse, seventeen hams; in our wine cellars, five hundred bottles of the best; beyond the window open country, the elegant sea in full lace, overhead a moon like a dish of cool cream, everywhere the full panoply of spring, and Lena across the table, too, a willow tree in the wind, laughing at everything I said or did not choose to say, both of us thirty, mind you, thirty years old, life our magnificent carousel, our fingers playing full chords, my books selling well, fan mail pouring upon us in crisp white founts, horses in the stables for moonlight rides to coves where either we or the sea might whisper all we wished in the night. |
| A John Oatis sjedi tu gdje ti sada sjediš, i tiho iz džepa vadi mali plavi pištolj." | And John Oatis seated there where you sit now, quietly taking the little blue gun from his pocket." |
| "Ja sam se nasmijala, mislila sam da je to nekakav upaljač", rekla je Dudleyjeva žena. | "I laughed, thinking it was a cigar lighter of some sort," said his wife. |
| "Ali je John Oatis rekao sasvim ozbiljno: 'Ja ću vas ubiti, gospodine Stone.' " | "But John Oatis said quite seriously: 'I'm going to kill you, Mr. Stone.' |
| "I što si učinio?" | "What did you do?" |
| "Ja? Samo sam sjedio tu, zgromljen, kao raskoljen; i začuo strašan tresak poklopca lijesa ravno u lice! Čuo sam kotrljanje ugljena niz crni žlijeb; blato na mojim zakopanim vratima. Vele da ti u takvih trenucima pred očima projuri čitava prošlost. Glupost. Proleti ti budućnost. Ugledaš svoje lice kao krvavu kašu. I sjediš tako, sve dok ti trtljava usta ne uzmognu reći: 'Ali zašto, John, što sam ti učinio?' | "Do? I sat there, stunned, riven; I heard a terrible slam! the coffin lid in my face! I heard coal down a black chute; dirt on my buried door. They say all your past hurtles by at such times. Nonsense. The future does. You see your face a bloody porridge. You sit there until your fumbling mouth can say, 'But why, John, what have I done to you?' |
| 'Učinio!' kriknuo je on. | "'Done!' he cried. |
| I onda mu oko klizi preko goleme stelaže i krasne brigade knjiga, i sve one bučno privlače pozornost, jer na svakoj od njih blista moje ime kao panterino oko u marokanskoj noći. 'Učinio!' kriknuo je on smrtonosno. I u ruci gaje zasvrbio revolver što je plivao u znoju. 'No, daj, John', pokušao sam oprezno. 'Što želiš?' | "And his eyes skimmed along the vast bookshelf and the handsome brigade of books drawn stiffly to attention there with my name on each blazing like a panther's eyes in the Moroccan blackness. 'Done!' he cried, mortally. And his hand itched the revolver in a sweat. 'Now, John,' I cautioned. 'What do you want?' |
| 'Jedno želim više od ičega na svijetu:' odgovorio mi je on, 'da te ubijem i postanem slavan. Da mi ime dođe na prvu stranicu. Da postanem slavan kao ti. Da do smrti a i poslije budem znan kao čovjek koji je ubio Dudleyja Stonea!' | "'One thing more than anything else in the world,' he said, 'to kill you and be famous. Get my name in headlines. Be famous as you are famous. Be known for a lifetime and beyond as the man who killed Dudley Stone!' |
| 'Pa ne misliš to valjda ozbiljno!' | "'You can't mean that!' |
| 'Itekako mislim. I postat ću jako slavan. Daleko slavniji nego danas, u tvojoj sjeni. O, pazi dobro, nitko na svijetu ne zna mrziti kao pisac. Bože, koliko ja volim tvoje djelo i, Bože, koliko mrzim tebe zato što tako dobro pišeš. Zapanjujuća dvoznačnost. Ali ja to više ne mogu podnijeti, da nisam sposoban pisati kao ti, i zato želim do svoje sreće doći na lagan način. Posjeći ću te prije nego što dospiješ do zenita. Vele da će tvoja sljedeća knjiga biti najbolja i najbriljantnija!' | "'I do. I'll be very famous. Far more famous than I am today, in your shadow. Oh, listen here, no one in the world knows how to hate like a writer does. God, how I love your work and God, how I hate you because you write so well. Amazing ambivalence. But I can't take it any more, not being able to write as you do, so I'll take my fame the easy way. I'll cut you off before you reach your prime. They say your next book will be your finest, your most brilliant!' |
| 'Pretjeruju.' | "'They exaggerate.' |
| 'Ja vjerujem da su u pravu!' odgovorio je on. | "'My guess is they're right!' he said. |
| Pogledao sam iza njega i ugledao Lenu kako sjedi u stolici, uplašena, ali ipak ne toliko uplašena da bi kriknula ili pokušala pobjeći i tako pokvarila scenu, koja bi tako mogla završiti i na nehotičan način. | "I looked beyond him to Lena who sat in her chair, frightened, but not frightened enough to scream or run and spoil the scene so it might end inadvertently. |
| 'Smiri se', rekoh. 'Samo mirno. Sjedi tu, John. Molim te samo za jednu minutu. Onda povuci otponac.' | "'Calm,' I said. 'Calmness. Sit there, John. I ask only one minute. Then pull the trigger.' |
| 'Ne!' prošaptala je Lena. | "'No!' Lena whispered. |
| 'Samo mirno', rekao sam njoj, sebi, Johnu Oatisu. | "'Calmness,' I said to her, to myself, to John Oatis. |
| Pogledao sam kroz otvoreni prozor, osjetio vjetar, pomislio na vino u podrumu, na dražice uz obalu, na more, na mjesečev disk nalik na mentolni bombon što hladi ljetno nebo, i privlači te oblake plamene soli, zvjezdane rojeve, za sobom na tom kotaču što se vrti prema jutru. Pomislio sam kako mi je samo trideset godina, kako je toliko i Leni, kako je pred nama još čitav život. | "I gazed out the open windows, I felt the wind, I thought of the wine in the cellar, the coves at the beach, the sea, the night moon like a disc of menthol cooling the summer heavens, drawing clouds of flaming salt, the stars, after it in a wheel toward morning. I thought of myself only thirty, Lena thirty, our whole lives ahead. |
| Pomislio sam na sve životne poslastice obješene visoko što zapravo čekaju da se njima tek počnem gostiti! Nikad se još nisam uspeo na brdo, nikad još nisam jedrio oceanom, nikad se još nisam kandidirao za gradonačelnika, nikad još nisam ronio biserje, nikad još nisam imao teleskop, nikad još nisam glumio na pozornici ili sagradio kuću ili pročitao sve klasike koje sam tako želio pročitati. Koliko je još toga čekalo da se učini! | I thought of all the flesh of life hung high and waiting for me to really start banqueting! I had never climbed a mountain, I had never sailed an ocean, I had never run for Mayor, I had never dived for pearls, I had never owned a telescope, I had never acted on a stage or built a house or read all the classics I had so wished to read. All the actions waiting to be done! |
| I tako sam u tih gotovo trenutnih šezdeset sekundi, pomislio napokon i na svoju karijeru. Na knjige koje sam napisao, koje pišem, i koje kanim napisati. Na prikaze, na prodaju, na goleme račune u banci. I, vjeruj mi ili ne vjeruj, kako te god volja, po prvi sam se put u životu oslobodio svega toga. Jer sam, u jednom trenutku, postao kritičan. Ispraznio sam plitice na vagi. | "So in that almost instantaneous sixty seconds, I thought at last of my career. The books I had written, the books I was writing, the books I intended to write. The reviews, the sales, our huge balance in the bank. And, believe or disbelieve me, for the first time in my life I got free of it all. I became, in one moment, a critic. I cleared the scales. |
| I na jednu stavio sve brodove na koje se nisam ukrcao, svo cvijeće koje nisam posadio, svu djecu koju nisam podigao, sva brda koja nisam pogledao, i u središte svega stavio Lenu, božicu žetve. U sredinu sam stavio Johna Oatisa Kendalla s njegovim pištoljem - bio je to potporanj koji je držao vagu. A na drugu sam praznu pliticu stavio tucet knjiga. I sve sam to još malo namjestio. Sučelice sam stavio svoje pero, tintu, prazan papir, sekunde što protječu. Preko stola je pirnuo blagi noćni povjetarac. Dotakao je uvojak na Leninu vratu, o, Bože, kako nježno, kako nježno ga je dotakao... | On one hand I put all the boats I hadn't taken, the flowers I hadn't planted, the children I hadn't raised, all the hills I hadn't looked at, with Lena there, goddess of the harvest. In the middle I put John Oatis Kendall with his gun--the upright that held the balances. And on the empty scale opposite I laid my pen, my ink, my empty paper, my dozen books. I made some minor adjustments. The sixty seconds were ticking by. The sweet night wind blew across the table. It touched a curl of hair on Lena's neck, oh Lord, how softly, softly it touched ... |
| Pištolj je bio uperen u mene. Na fotografijama sam vidio Mjesečeve kratere, i rupu u svemiru zvanu Vreća ugljena, no ništa od toga nije bilo tako veliko, vjeruj mi na riječ, kao otvor pištolja na drugom kraju sobe. | "The gun pointed at me. I have seen the moon craters in photographs, and that hole in space called the Great Coal Sack Nebula, but neither was as big, take my word, as the mouth of that gun across the room from me. |
| 'John', rekoh naposljetku, 'zar me doista toliko mrziš? Zato što sam ja imao sreće, a ti ne?' | "'John,' I said at last, 'do you hate me that much? Because I've been lucky and you not?' |
| "Da, proklet bio!" kriknuo je on. | "'Yes, damn it!' he cried. |
| Bilo je skoro smiješno da mi može zavidjeti. Jer ja nisam bio baš mnogo bolji pisac od njega. Sve je te razlike stvorio samo jedan sretan potez. | "It was almost funny he should envy me. I was not that much better a writer than he. A flick of the wrist made the difference. |
| 'John', rekao sam mu tiho, 'ako želiš da umrem, ja ću to i učiniti. Želiš da više nikad ne napišem ni retka?' | "'John,' I said quietly to him, 'if you want me dead, I'll be dead. Would you like for me never to write again?' |
| 'Ništa ne želim više od toga!' kriknuo je on. 'Pripremi se!' Uperio mije pištolj ravno u srce! | "'I'd like nothing better!' he cried. 'Get ready!' He aimed at my heart! |
| 'U redu,' rekoh, 'neću više nikad napisati ni retka.' | "'All right,' I said, 'I'll never write again.' |
| 'Kako?' rekao je on. | "'What?' he said. |
| 'Mi smo stari prijatelji, i još nikad, nije li tako, nismo jedan drugom lagali? Onda me uhvati za riječ: Od večeras pa nadalje neću više nikad staviti pero na papir.' | "'We're old old friends, we've never lied to each other, have we? Then take my word, from this night on I'll never put pen to paper.' |
| 'O, Bože', rekao je on i nasmijao se u nevjerici. | "'Oh God,' he said, and laughed with contempt and disbelief. |
| 'Evo', rekao sam i mahnuo glavom prema pisaćem stolu kraj njega, 'tu su jedini originalni rukopisi dviju knjiga na kojima radim već tri godine. Jednu ću smjesta spaliti tebi pred očima. Drugu možeš sam baciti u more. Počisti kuću, uzmi sve što makar i izdaleka podsjeća na književnost, spali i moje objavljene knjige. Evo.' Ustao sam. Mogao me je tada ubiti, ali sam ga bio fascinirao. Bacio sam jedan rukopis u ognjište i prinio mu šibicu. | "'There,' I said, nodding my head at the desk near him, 'are the only original copies of the two books I've been working on for the last three years. I'll burn one in front of you now. The other you yourself may throw in the sea. Clean out the house, take everything faintly resembling literature, burn my published books, too. Here.' I got up. He could have shot me then, but I had him fascinated. I tossed one manuscript on the hearth and touched a match to it. |
| 'Ne!' rekla je Lena. Okrenuo sam se. 'Znam što radim', rekoh. Ona je zaplakala. John Oatis Kendall samo je zurio u mene, kao omađijan. Donio sam mu drugi neobjavljeni rukopis. 'Evo', rekao sam i gurnuo mu ga pod desnu cipelu, kao da mu je noga uteg za papir. Vratio sam se i sjeo. Vjetar je puhao i noć je bila topla i Lena je na drugom kraju stola bila bijela kao jabuka u cvatu. | "'No!' Lena said. I turned. 'I know what I'm doing,' I said. She began to cry. John Oatis Kendall simply stared at me, bewitched. I brought him the other unpublished manuscript. 'Here,' I said, tucking it under his right shoe so his foot was a paper weight. I went back and sat down. The wind was blowing and the night was warm and Lena was white as apple-blossoms there across the table. |
| I rekoh: 'Od danas pa nadalje, neću više nikad napisati ni retka.' Napokon je John Oatis uspio procijediti: 'Kako to možeš?' | "I said, 'From this day forward I will not write ever again.' "At last John Oatis managed to say, 'How can you do this?' |
| 'Mogu, pa da svi budu sretni', rekoh. 'Da ti budeš sretan, jer ćemo na kraju opet biti prijatelji. Da Lena bude sretna, jer ću opet biti samo njen muž, a ne dresirana foka svojih agenata. A sretan ću biti i ja, jer mi je milije biti živ čovjek nego mrtav autor. Čovjek je pred smrću spreman na sve, John. I zato uzmi moj zadnji roman i idi.' | "'To make everyone happy,' I said. 'To make you happy because we'll be friends again, eventually. To make Lena happy because I'll be just her husband again and no agent's performing seal. And myself happy because I'd rather be a live man than a dead author. A dying man will do anything, John. Now take my last novel and get along with you.' |
| I tako smo sjedili tu, nas troje, baš kao što sad sjedimo nas troje. Osjećao se miris limuna i lipa i kamelija. Pod nama je, na kamenitoj obali, grmio ocean; Bože, kakav krasan, mjesečinom obasjan zvuk. I onda je, napokon, John Oatis uzeo rukopise, kao da uzima moje tijelo, i odnio ih iz sobe. Zastao je u vratima i rekao: 'Vjerujem ti.' I onda je otišao. Čuo sam ga kako se odvezao. Spremio sam Lenu u krevet. Bila je to jedna od vrlo malobrojnih noći u mom životu kad sam šetao obalom, ali sam doista šetao, i duboko disao i pipao si ruke i noge i lice, i plakao kao malo dijete, dok sam hodao i gegao se kroz mlat valova da osjetim kako se oko mene u milijun sapuriških mjehurića pjeni hladna slana voda." | "We sat there, the three of us, just as we three are sitting tonight. There was a smell of lemons and limes and camellias. The ocean roared on the stony coastland below; God, what a lovely moonlit sound. And at last, picking up the manuscript, John Oatis took it, like my body, out of the room. He paused at the door and said, 'I believe you.' And then he was gone. I heard him drive away. I put Lena to bed. That was one of the few nights in my life I ever walked down by the shore, but walk I did, taking deep breaths and feeling my arms and legs and my face with my hands, crying like a child, walking and wading in the surf to feel the cold salt water foaming about me in a million suds." |
| Dudley Stone je zastao. U toj je prostoriji vrijeme stalo. Vrijeme je bilo nešto što je pripadalo nekoj drugoj godini, dok smo nas troje sjedili tako, opčarani njegovom pričom o umorstvu. | Dudley Stone paused. Time had made a stop in the room. Time was in another year, the three of us sitting there, enchanted with his telling of the murder. |
| "I je li uništio tvoj zadnji roman?" upitao sam. | "And did he destroy your last novel?" I asked. |
| Dudley Stone je kimnuo glavom. "Tjedan dana kasnije na plažu je doplovio jedan list. Zacijelo ga je bacio s litice, svih tisuću stranica, sasvim to jasno vidim, moglo je izgledati kao jato bijelih galebova, što se spuštaju dolje prema moru, da odu na pučinu s osekom, u četiri sata, u crno jutro. Lena je potrčala plažom s tim jedincatim listom u ruci, i povikala: 'Vidi, vidi!' A kad sam vidio što mi je dala, bacio sam ga natrag u ocean." | Dudley Stone nodded. "A week later one of the pages drifted up on the shore. He must have thrown them over the cliff, a thousand pages, I see it in my mind's eye, a flock of white sea-gulls it might seem, flying down to the water and going out with the tide at four in the black morning. Lena ran up the beach with that single page in her hand, crying, 'Look, look!' And when I saw what she handed me, I tossed it back in the ocean." |
| "Nemoj mi samo reći da si održao riječ?" | "Don't tell me you honored your promise!" |
| Dudley Stone pogledao me je netremice. "A što bi ti učinio u mom položaju? Pogledaj to ovako: John Oatis mi je učinio uslugu. Nije me ubio. Nije me ustrijelio. Povjerovao mi je na riječ. I ja sam je održao. Pustio me je da živim. Pustio me je da jedem i spavam i dišem. I sasvim iznenada, proširio mi je horizonte. Bio sam mu tako zahvalan da sam se te noći, dok sam stajao do pasa u vodi, tamo na plaži rasplakao. Bio sam zahvalan. Shvaćaš li ti zaista tu riječ? Zahvalan zato što mi je dao da živim kad je imao moć da me zauvijek anihilira." | Dudley Stone looked at me steadily. "What would you have done in a similar position? Look at it this way: John Oatis did me a favor. He didn't kill me. He didn't shoot me. He took my word. He honored my word. He let me live. He let me go on eating and sleeping and breathing. Quite suddenly he had broadened my horizons. I was so grateful that standing on the beach hip-deep in water that night, I cried. I was grateful. Do you really understand that word? Grateful he had let me live when he had had it in his hand to annihilate me forever." |
| Gospođa Stone je ustala, večera je bila gotova. Ona je pokupila suđe, a mi zapalili cigare; i onda me Dudley Stone odveo do svoje radne sobe, do svog sekretera, pa mu širom razjapio ralje s paketićima i papirima i bočicama tinte, s pisaćim strojem, dokumentima, registrima, indeksima. | Mrs. Stone rose up, the dinner was ended. She cleared the dishes, we lit cigars; and Dudley Stone strolled me over to his office-athome, a rolltop desk, its jaws propped wide with parcels and papers and ink bottles, a typewriter, documents, ledgers, indexes. |
| "U meni je sve vrelo i ključalo. John Oatis je samo skupio pjenu s vrha, da ispod nje ugledam pivo. I bilo je sasvim bistro", rekao je Dudley Stone. "Pisanje je za mene oduvijek bilo pelin i gorčica; prtljati s riječima po papiru, proživljavati silne depresije srca i duše. Gledati kako me gramzivi kritičari dižu na grafikonima i spuštaju u tablicama, sjeckaju me kao kobasicu, krkaju me na ponoćnim večerama. Posao najgore vrste. Ja sam zapravo već bio spreman zbaciti samar. Moj otponac je već bio napet. Bum! Kad eto ti Johna Oatisa! Vidi ovo." | "It was all rolling to a boil in me. John Oatis simply spooned the froth off the top so I could see the brew. It was very clear," said Dudley Stone. "Writing was always so much mustard and gallweed to me; fidgeting words on paper, experiencing vast depressions of heart and soul. Watching the greedy critics graph me up, chart me down, slice me like sausage, eat me at midnight breakfasts. Work of the worst sort. I was ready to fling the pack. My trigger was set. Boom! There was John Oatis! Look here." |
| Prekopao je po stolu pa izvadio letke i plakate. "Ja sam stalno pisao o životu. A sad sam poželio živjeti. Činiti stvari a ne o njima pričati. Kandidirao sam se za školski savjet. I pobijedio. Kandidirao se za odbornika. Pobijedio. Kandidirao se za gradonačelnika, pobijedio! Šerif! Gradski knjižničar! Gradski službenik za odvoz smeća. Rukovao sam se s mnogim rukama, vidio mnogo života, učinio mnogo toga. Proživjeli smo život na sve moguće načine, očima i nosovima i ustima, ušima i rukama. Penjali smo se na brda i slikali slike, neke su, evo, i na zidu! Triput smo obišli svijet! Čak sam zbabio i svog sinčića, sasvim neočekivano. On je u međuvremenu odrastao i oženio se - živi u New Yorku! Činili smo i činili i činili." Stone je zastao i nasmiješio se. "Izađi na dvorište; postavili smo teleskop, bi li volio vidjeti Saturnove prstene?" | He rummaged in the desk and brought forth hand-bills and posters. "I had been writing about living. Now I wanted to live. Do things instead of tell about things. I ran for the board of education. I won. I ran for alderman. I won. I ran for Mayor. I won! Sheriff! Town librarian! Sewage disposal official. I shook a lot of hands, saw a lot of life, did a lot of things. We've lived every way there is to live, with our eyes and noses and mouths, with our ears and hands. We've climbed hills and painted pictures, there are some on the wall! We've been three times around the world! I even delivered our baby son, unexpectedly. He's grown and married now--lives in New York! We've done and done again." Stone paused and smiled. "Come on out in the yard; we've set up a telescope, would you like to see the rings of Saturn?" |
| I tako smo stajali u dvorištu, a vjetar je puhao preko tisuću milja mora, i dok smo stajali tako, i kroz teleskop promatrali zvijezde, gospođa Stone se spustila u ponoćni podrum da donese rijetko španjolsko vino. | We stood in the yard, and the wind blew from a thousand miles at sea and while we were standing there, looking at the stars through the telescope, Mrs. Stone went down into the midnight cellar after a rare Spanish wine. |
| | |
| Bilo je već i podne sutrašnjega dana kad smo, nakon uraganskoga putovanja preko skakutavih ledina, iz smjera mora stigli na samotnu stanicu. Gospodin Dudley Stone pustio je auto da vozi po svome, dok je tako pričao sa mnom, smijao se, smiješio, pokazivao sad na ovu sad na onu izbačenu neolitsku stijenu, na taj ili onaj divlji cvijet, da bi ponovno utihnuo tek kad smo se parkirali i stali čekati na vlak koji će me uzeti i odnijeti. | It was noon the next day when we reached the lonely station after a hurricane trip across the jouncing meadows from the sea. Mr. Dudley Stone let the car have its head, while he talked to me, laughing, smiling, pointing to this or that outcrop of Neolithic stone, this or that wild flower, falling silent again only as we parked and waited for the train to come and take me away. |
| "Pretpostavljam", rekao je, "da misliš da sam sasvim poludio." | "I suppose," he said, looking at the sky, "you think I'm quite insane." |
| "Ne, nikad to ne bih rekao." | "No, I'd never say that." |
| "Ali mislim", rekao je Dudley Stone, "John Oatis Kendall učinio mi je još jednu uslugu." | "Well," said Dudley Stone, "John Oatis Kendall did me one other favor." |
| "A to je?" | "What was that?" |
| Stone se na zalupljenom kožnom sjedalu promeškoljio nekako konverzacijski. | Stone hitched around conversationally in the patched leather seat. |
| "Pomogao mi je da iz svega izađem dok je još postojao lagani put. Duboko negdje u sebi zacijelo sam slutio da je moj književni uspjeh nešto što će se otopiti čim isključe rashladni sustav. Moja je podsvijest imala sasvim dobru sliku o mojoj budućnosti. Jer ja sam znao, što nitko od mojih kritičara nije, da ja mogu napredovati samo prema dolje. | "He helped me get out when the going was good. Deep down inside I must have guessed that my literary success was something that would melt when they turned off the cooling system. My subconscious had a pretty fair picture of my future. I knew what none of my critics knew, that I was headed nowhere but down. |
| One dvije knjige što ih je John Oatis bio uništio, bile su jako slabe. One bi me ubile mnogo gore od Oatisa. I tako mi je on pomogao da se odlučim, i ne misleći, na nešto za što možda sam ne bih imao dovoljno hrabrosti, pomogao mi da se graciozno naklonim dok bal još traje, dok kineski lampioni još bacaju laskavo ružičasto svjetlo na moj harvardski ten. Vidio sam i previše pisaca kako idu gore, dolje, i onda van, ranjeni, nesretni, u samoubojstvo. Kombinacija okolnosti, slučajnosti, podsvjesnog shvaćanja, olakšanja i zahvalnosti Johnu Oatisu Kendallu zato što sam samo živ, bila je u najmanju ruku nepredvidljiva." | The two books John Oatis destroyed were very bad. They would have killed me deader than Oatis possibly could. So he helped me decide, unwittingly, what I might not have had the courage to decide myself, to how gracefully out while the cotillion was still on, while the Chinese lanterns still cast flattering pink lights on my Harvard complexion. I had seen too many writers up, down, and out, hurt, unhappy, suicidal. The combination of circumstance, coincidence, subconscious knowledge, relief, and gratitude to John Oatis Kendall to just be alive, were fortuitous, to say the least." |
| Prosjedili smo na toplom suncu još jednu minutu. | We sat in the warm sunlight another minute. |
| "A onda sam doživio i zadovoljstvo da me usporede sa svim velikanima, u času kad sam obznanio svoje povlačenje s književne scene. Malo je pisaca u modernoj povijesti doživjelo toliki publicitet. Bio je to prekrasan sprovod. Izgledao sam, kako vele, prirodno. A za mnom su se vukli odjeci. 'Njegova sljedeća knjiga', kričali su kritičari, 'bila bi baš ono pravo! | "And then I had the pleasure of seeing myself compared to all the greats when I announced my departure from the literary scene. Few authors in recent history have bowed out to such publicity. It was a lovely funeral. I looked, as they say, natural. And the echoes lingered. 'His next book!' the critics cried, 'would have been it! |
| Pravo remek-djelo!' I gledao sam ih kako dahću, kako čekaju. Malo su oni toga znali. Čak i sada, nakon četvrt stoljeća, moji čitatelji, koji su tada bili školarci, odlaze na čađave izlete na promajnim lokalnim vlakovima što smrde po petroleju, ne bi li riješili misterij i odgovorili na pitanje zašto sam ih pustio da toliko čekaju na moje 'remek-djelo'. I baš zahvaljujući Johnu Oatisu Kendallu, ja još uživam nekakvu reputaciju; ona je opala polako, bezbolno. Već sam dogodine mogao poginuti od vlastite desnice, ruke kojom pišem. Koliko je bolje sam otkačiti svoj vagon od vlaka, prije nego što to drugi učine u tvoje ime. | A masterpiece!' I had them panting, waiting. Little did they know. Even now, a quarter-century later, my readers who were college boys then, make sooty excursions on drafty kerosene-stinking shortline trains to solve the mystery of why I've made them wait so long for my 'masterpiece.' And thanks to John Oatis Kendall I still have a little reputation; it has receded slowly, painlessly. The next year I might have died by my own writing hand. How much better to cut your own caboose off the train, before others do it for you. |
| Moje prijateljstvo s Johnom Oatisom Kendallom? I ono se vratilo. Za to je, dakako, trebalo vremena. Ali me je 1947. došao posjetiti; bio je lijep dan, svud uokolo, kao u stare dane. A sad je on mrtav, i ja sam napokon nekom sve ispričao. A što ćeš ti ispričati svojim prijateljima u gradu? Oni od svega toga neće povjerovati ni riječi. Ali to jest istina, kunem ti se, istina kao što je istina da sjedim tu i dišem dobri Božji zrak i gledam žuljeve na svojim rukama i počinjem sličiti izblijedjelim lecima što sam ih dijelio kad sam se natjecao za okružnog rizničara." | "My friendship with John Oatis Kendall? It came back. It took time, of course. But he was out here to see me in 1947; it was a nice day, all around, like old times. And now he's dead and at last I've told someone everything. What will you tell your friends in the city? They won't believe a word of this. But it is true, I swear it, as I sit here and breathe God's good air and look at the calluses on my hands and begin to resemble the faded handbills I used when I ran for county treasurer." |
| Stajali smo na peronu. | We stood on the station platform. |
| "Zbogom idi, i hvala ti što si došao i otvorio uši i dopustio mojoj riječi da se zarije u tebe. I Božji blagoslov na sve tvoje radoznale prijatelje. A evo i vlaka! Moram bježati; Lena i ja moramo na karavanu Crvenoga križa niz obalu, danas popodne! Zbogom!" | "Good-by, and thanks for coming and opening your ears and letting my world crash in on you. God bless to all your curious friends. Here comes the train! I've got to run; Lena and I are going to a Red Cross drive down the coast this afternoon! Good-by!" |
| Gledao sam mrtvaca kako lupa i skače preko perona, osjećao podrhtavanje dasaka, vidio ga kako uskače u Model-T, čuo kako je poskočio pod njegovom masom, vidio kako velikim stopalom udara o pedale, pali motor u leru, turira ga do grmljavine, okreće se, smiješi se, maše mi, da bi potom odgrmio daleko i u nepovrat, prema tom najednom briljantnom gradiću zvanom Opskurnost kraj vrtoglavoga mora zvanoga Prošlost. | I watched the dead man stomp and leap across the platform, felt the plankings shudder, saw him jump into his Model-T, heard it lurch under his bulk, saw him bang the floor-boards with a big foot, idle the motor, roar it, turn, smile, wave to me, and then roar off and away toward that suddenly brilliant town called Obscurity by a dazzling seashore called The Past. |