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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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"You might stop quarrelling, when there is nothing to quarrel about."
"But I say that the Frenchman will not give up to the Prussian," replied Gomula, striking the table with his fist.
"The Prussian is cunning, the dog blood!" answered Repa.
"What good is it that he is cunning? The Turk will help the Frenchman, and the Turk is the strongest."
"What do ye know! The strongest is Harubanda [Garibalda]."
"You must have got out of bed shoulders first. But where did you pull out Harubanda?"
"What need had I to pull him out? Haven't people said that he sailed down the Vistula in boats with a great army? But the beer in Warsaw didn't please him, for generally it is better at home, so he went back."
"Don't lie for nothing. Every Schwab [8 - A Suabian, a German.] is a Jew."
"But Harubanda is no Schwab."
"What is he?"
"Well what? He must be Cæsar and that's the end of it!"
"You are terribly wise!"
"You are not wiser."
"But if you are so wise, then tell what was the surname of our first father?"
"How? Yadam, of course."
"That is a Christian name; but his surname?"
"Do I know?"
"See there! But I do. His surname was Skrushyla."
"You must have the pip."
"If you don't believe, then listen: —
"'Gwiazdo morza, któraś Pana
Mlekiem swojém wykarmila
Tyś śmiercì szczep, który wszczepił
Pierwszy rodzic, wszczepił.'" [9 - The translation of those four lines is: —Star of the sea who nourishedThe Lord with thy milk,The seed of death engrafted by our first father,Thou didst crush.The last line in the Polish if taken alone would mean, our first father, Skrushyla, and the wise Gomula takes it alone. Taken in connection with its pronoun and ending the compound Tys, the first word in the third line, it means: Thou hast crushed.]
"Well, and isn't it Skrushyla?"
"You are right this time."
"You had better take another drink," said the mayor.
"Your healths, gossips!"
"Your health!"
"Haim!"
"Siulim!"
"God give happiness!"
All three drank; but since that was at the time of the Franco-German War, Councilman Gomula returned again to politics.
"Well, drink again!" said Burak, after a while.
"The Lord God give happiness!"
"The Lord God reward!"
"Well, to your health!"
They drank again, and, since they drank arrack, Repa struck his empty glass on the table, and said, —
"Ei! that was good! good!"
"Well, have another?" asked Burak.
"Pour it out!"
Repa grew still redder; Burak kept filling his glass.
"But you," said he at last to Repa, "though you are able to throw a korzets of peas on your shoulder with one hand, would be afraid to go to the war."
"Why should I be afraid? If to fight, then, fight."
"One man is small, but very brave; another is strong, but cowardly," said Gomula.
"That is not true!" answered Repa. "I am not cowardly."
"Who knows what you are?"
"But I will go," said Repa, showing his fist, which was as big as a loaf of bread. "If I should go into one of you with this fist, you would fly apart like an old barrel."
"But I might not."
"Do you want to try?"
"Be quiet!" interrupted the mayor. "Are you going to fight or what? Let us drink again."
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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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