A Pleasant Afternoon at Coney Island
- They reach the avenue and the street-car leisurely arrives. They are going to Coney Island this afternoon, although my mother considers such pleasures inferior.
- My father tells my mother how much money he has made, exaggerating the amount. Meanwhile, I begin to weep and get scolded by the lady sitting next to me in the theater.
- They walk toward the boardwalk, enjoying the pungent air from the sea. They have a common interest in health and occasionally argue about what is good to eat.
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They reach the avenue, and the street-car leisurely arrives. They going to Coney Island this afternoon, although my mother really consid such pleasures inferior. She has made up her mind to indulge only in a w on the boardwalk and a pleasant dinner, .avoiding the riotous amusements being beneath the dignity of so dignified a couple. My father tells my mother how much money he has made in the wc just past, exaggerating an amount which need not have been exaggerat, But my father has always felt that actualities somehow fall short, no ma1 how fine they are. Suddenly I begin to weep. The determined old lady m sits next to me in the theatre is annoyed and looks at me with an angry fa and being intimidated, I stop. I drag out my handkerchief and dry my fa licking the drop which has fallen near my lips. Meanwhile I have mis: something, for here are my father and mother alighting from the street-cax the last stop, Coney Island. They walk toward the boardwalk, and my mother commands my father inhale the pungent air from the sea. They both breathe in deeply, both them laughing as they do so. They have in common a great interest health, although my father is strong and husky, and my mother is frail. They are both full of theories about what is good to eat and not good to eat, a sometimes have heated discussions about it, the whole matter ending in my father's announcement, made with a scornful bluster, that you have to sooner or later anyway. On the boardwalk's flagpole, the Arnerican flag is pulsing in an intermittent wind from the sea.
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以下のとおりお答えします。誤植と思しき部分が10か所ほど（特に2～12行目あたりに集中）あると思います。推測で補いましたので、誤訳の節はご寛恕のほどあらかじめお詫びします。 彼らは大通りに達する、ゆっくり走る市街電車が到着する。彼らは、今日の午後コニーアイランド(*)に行くのだが、母はそのような楽しみは本当は低級だとみなしている。彼女は、高貴な二人連れの体面に関わるような奔放な娯楽は避け、板敷き遊歩道での散策や楽しい晩餐だけに浸り込むことを決心した。 父は、最近いかに大金を得たかを母に話すが、必要もないのにその金額の多さを誇張して言うのだ。しかし父は、現実というものは、それがどんなに素晴らしい場合でも何らかの不足をもたらすことを常々実感しているのである。突然、私は泣き始める。劇場で、私の隣席の毅然とした老婦人が苛だたしそうな表情で私を睨むので、それに怯えて、私は泣き止む。私は、ハンカチを引っ張り出して唇の近くまでつたった涙を一拭きする。一方、その間、私は何かを見損なっていた。というのも、コニーアイランドの終点に着いた市街電車から降りる父と母の姿があるからだ。 彼らは板敷きの散歩道へ向かって歩き、母が父に、海から来るピリッとした空気を吸うようにと言う。二人は深呼吸し、二人でそんなことをしているのを笑い合う。父は頑強でがっしりしており、母はひ弱だが、彼らは共通に健康問題には大いに関心を持っている。二人とも、何が食べるに良いとか悪いとかに関する理屈をいっぱい持っていて、時々そういうことについて議論が加熱するが、概して、とにかく遅かれ早かれあなたはそうする必要があるんだとかいった、父の軽べつ的なまくし立ての弁舌に終わる。板敷き遊歩道の旗ざおに、米国国旗が、間欠的に海から吹く風にはためいている。 (*)Coney Island：米国ニューヨーク市ブルックリン区の南端にある半島（かつては、文字通り、島だった）で、リゾート地、観光地として知られる。1920年代に開園され、2008年に閉園された。詳しくは、下記をご参照ください。 http://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E3%82%B3%E3%83%8B%E3%83%BC%E3%82%A2%E3%82%A4%E3%83%A9%E3%83%B3%E3%83%89
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They have passed a fortune-teller's booth and my mother wishes to go in, but my father does not. They begin to argue about it. My mother becomes stubborn, my father once more impatient. What my father would like to do now is walk off and leave my mother there, but he knows that that would never do. My mother refuses to budge. She is near tears, but she feels an uncontrollable desire to hear what the palm reader will say. My father consents angrily and they both go into the booth which is, in a way, like the photographer's, since it is draped in black cloth and its light is colored and shadowed. The place is too warm, and my father keeps saying that this is all nonsense, pointing to the crystal ball on the table. The fortune-teller, a short, fat woman garbed in robes supposedly exotic, comes into the room and greets them, speaking with an accent. But suddenly my father feels that the whole thing is intolerable; he tugs at my mother's arm but my mother refuses to budge. And then, in terrible anger, my father lets go of my mother's arm and strides out, leaving my mother stunned. She makes a movement as if to go after him, but the fortune-teller holds her and begs her not to do so, and I in my seat in the darkness am shocked and horrified.
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When I return, Feeling as if I had just awakened in the morning sick For lack of sleep, several hours have apparently passed and my parents are riding on the merry-go-round. My father is on a black horse, my mother on a white one, and they seem to be making an eternal circuit for the single purpose of snatching the nickel rings which are attached to an arm of one of the posts. A hand organ is playing; it is inseparable from the ceaseless circling of the merry-go-round. For a moment it seems that they will never get off the carousel, for it will never stop, and I feel as if I were looking down from the fiftieth story of a building. But at length they d o get off; even the hand-organ has ceased for a moment. There is a sudden and sweet stillness, as if the achievement of so much motion. My mother has acquired only two rings, my father, however, ten of them, although it was my mother who really wanted them. They walk on along the boardwalk as the afternoon descends by imper- ceptible degrees into the incredible violet of dusk. Everything fades into a relaxed glow, even the ceaseless murmuring from the beach. They look for a place to have dinner. My father suggests the best restaurant on the board- walk and my mother demurs, according to her principles of economy and housewifeliness. However they do go to the best place, asking for a table near the win- dow so that they can look out upon the boardwalk and the mobile ocean. My father feels omnipotent as he places a quarter in the waiter's hand in asking for a table. The place is crowded and here too there is music, this time from a kind of string-trio. My father orders with a fine confidence.
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My father and mother go to the rail of the boardwalk and look down I the beach where a good many bathers are casually walking about. A few s in the surf. A peanut whistle pierces the air with its pleasant and active whine, and my father goes to buy peanuts. My mother remains at the rail and stares at the ocean. The ocean seems merry to her; it pointedly sparkles and again and again the pony waves are released. She notices the children digging in the wet sand, and the bathing costumes of the girls who are her own age. My father returns with the peanuts. Overhead the sun's lightnil strikes and strikes, but neither of them are at all aware of it. The boardwalk is full of people dressed in their Sunday clothes and casually strolling. The tide does not reach as far as the boardwalk, and the strollers would feel no danger if it did. My father and mother lean on the rail of the boardwalk and absently stare at the ocean. The ocean is becoming rough; the waves come in slowly, tugging strength from far back. The moment before they somersault, the moment when they arch their backs so beautifully, showing white veins in the green and black, that moment is intolerable. They finally crack, dashing fiercely upon the sand, actually driving, full force downward, against it, bouncing upward and forward, and at last petering out into a small stream of bubbles which slides up the beach and then is recalled. The sun overhead does not disturb my father and my mother. They gaze idly at the ocean, scarcely interested in its harshness. But I stare at the terrible sun which breaks up sight, and the fatal merciless passionate ocean. I forget my parents. I stare fascinated, and finally, shocked by their indifference, I burst out weeping once more. The old lady next to me pats my shoulder and says "There, there, young man, all of this is only a movie, only a movie," but I look up once more at the terrifying sun and the terrifying ocean, and being unable to control my tears I get up and go to the men's room, stumbling over the feet of the other people seated in my row.
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Finally my mother comes downstairs and my father, being at the moment engaged in conversation with my grandfather, is made uneasy by her entrance, for he does not know whether to greet my mother or to continue the conversation. He gets up from his chair clumsily and says "Hello" gruffly. My grandfather watches this, examining their congruence, such as it is, with a critical eye, and meanwhile rubbing his bearded cheek roughly, as he always does when he reasons. He is worried; he is afraid that my father will not make a good husband for his oldest daughter. At this point something happens to the film, just as my father says something funny to my mother: I am awakened to myself and my unhappiness just as my interest has become most intense. The audience begins to clap impatiently. Then the trouble is attended to, but the film has been returned to a portion just shown, and once more I see my grandfather rubbing his bearded cheek, pondering my father's character. It is difficult to get back into the picture once more and forget myself, but as my mother giggles at my father's words, the darkness drowns me. My father and mother depart from the house, my father shaking hands with my grandfather once more, out of some unknown uneasiness. I stir uneasily also, slouched in the hard chair'of the theatre. Where is the older uncle, my mother's older brother? He is studying in his bedroom upstairs, studying for his final examinations at the College of the City of New York, having been dead of double pneumonia for the last twenty-one years. mother and father walk down the same quiet streets once more. My mot is holding my father's arm and telling him of the novel she has been read and my father utters judgments of the characters as the plot is made clea~ him. This is a habit which he very much enjoys, for he feels the utm superiority and confidence when he is approving or condemning the beh ior of other people. At times he feels moved to utter a brief "Ugh," whene the story becomes what he would call sugary. This tribute is the assertion his manliness. My mother feels satisfied by the interest she has awaken and she is showing my father how intelligent she is and how interesting.
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But after a while I begin to take brief glimpses,and at length I watch again with thirsty interest, like a child who tries to maintain his sulk when he is offered the bribe of candy. My parents are now having their picture taken in a photographer's booth along the boardwalk. The place is shadowed in the mauve light which is apparently necessary. The camera is set to the side on its tripod and looks like a Martian man. The photographer is instructing my parents in how to pose. My father has his arm over my mother's shoulder and both of them smile emphatically. The photographer brings my mother a bouquet of flowers to hold in her hand, but she holds it at the wrong angle. Then the photographer covers himself with the black cloth which drapes the camera and all that one sees of him is one protruding arm and his hand with which he holds tightly to the rubber ball which he squeezes when the picture is taken. But he is not satisfied with their appearance. He feels that sonehow there is something wrong in their pose. Again and again he comes out from his hiding place with new directions. Each suggestion merely makes matters worse. My father is becoming impatient.They try a seated pose.The photographer explains that he has his pride, he wants to make beautiful pictures, he is not merely interested in all of this for the money. My father says: "Hurry up, will you? We haven't got all night." But the photographer only scurries about apologetically, issuing new directions. The photographer charms me, and I approve of him with all my heart, for I know exactly how he feels, and as he criticizes each revised pose according to some obscure idea of rightness, I become quite hopeful. But then my father says angrily: "Come on, you've had enough time, we're not going to wait any longer." And the photographer, sighing unhappily, goes back into the black covering, and holds out his hand, saying: "One, two, three, Now!," and the picture is taken, with my father's smile turned to a grimace and my mother's bright and false. It takes a few minutes for the picture to be developed and as my parents sit in the curious light they become depressed.
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Ｍy father thinks of my mother, of how lady-like she is, and of the pride which will be his when he introduces her to his family. They are not yet engaged and he is not yet sure that he loves my mother, so that, once in a while, he becomes panicky about the bond already established. But then he reassures himself by thinking of the big men he admires who are married: William Randolph Hearst and William Howard Taft, who has just become the President of the United States. My father arrives at my mother's house. He has come too early and so is suddenly embarrassed. My aunt, my mother's younger sister, answers the loud bell with her napkin in her hand, for the family is still at dinner. As my father enters, my grandfather rises from the table qnd shakes hands with him. My mother has run upstairs to tidy herself. My grandmother asks my father if he has had dinner and tells him that my mother will be down soon. My grandfather opens the conversation by remarking about the mild June weather. My father sits uncomfortably near the table, holding his hat in his hand. My grandmother tells my aunt to take my father's hat. My uncle, twelve years old, runs into the house, his hair tousled. He shouts a greeting to my father, who has often given him nickels, and then runs upstairs, as my grandmother shouts after him. It is evident that the respect in which my father is held in this house is tempered by a good deal of mirth. He is impressive, but also very awkward.
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下記内容を日本訳してください 宜しくお願いします When I was a child my parents got divorced. I was 3 years old. I didnt meet my father until I was 20 years old. I grew up very poor and had to spend many nights at home alone because my mother would work late in a factory. Now my mother and father have both married to new people and Ryan is just a child they had from another marriage. When the marriage is broen often the children are forgotten about.
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My husband of 28 years has been having long, intimate text conversations with his father's hospice nurse for several months while they both are caring for my dying father-in-law. My husband does this for hours every day. I have told them that I would like one of them to stop working with my father-in-law. Neither has been willing. His whole family is standing behind this relationship and feels the two of them are wonderful for each other and a new start would be great because both are in "loveless" marriages. It is clear to me that they want to be together. They have expressed deep love for each other and have been intimate. I am brokenhearted and want out. My marriage has always been stressful and occasionally abusive. We were hanging in there, but by a string. This just seals the deal. Today, one sister is going to ask the nurse to step down. 1 want outは「関わりたくない」でしょうか？あと、by a stringは「かろうじて」でしょうか？ 2 This just seals the deal.の意味を教えてください。 3 step downは「身を引く」でしょうか？ 以上、よろしくお願いします
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- 和訳教えてください。
When you vacation, do you go as a tourist or as a travelar? I dare say that most people have never asked themselves this question. But for me, there is a definite distinction between the two. When one considers travel as a possible means of bridging cultural gaps in our shrinking global village, the nuances behind these words become important. In my opinion (based on years of observing visitors to my adopted home, Paris), tourists are more likely to maintain a distance between themselves and the places that they visit. Their purpose in traveling is to "see the sights", take photos and have their photos taken in front of famous sights. They often travel in tour groups, which offer the advantage of obtaining cursory information about the sights visited, but also have the disadvantage of discouraging individual discovery. In contrast, travelers interact much more with the people and places found at their travel destinations. They enjoy not only the main sights, but also the back streets and hidden neighborhoods in and around their destinations. They seek out the things that distinguish the places visited from their home territory. They observe the local culture and inhabitants, and seek to understand them. And in the process,they share information about their own culture. When I moved to France, I did so as a traveler. Not only was I determined to learn about the various peoples who live there, why they came and how they live, but I also made up my mind to visit other countries with the same perspective. As a result, my voyages have been much fuller and richer, and my understanding and appreciation of my own American culture has deepened. よろしくお願いします。
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- どのような意味でしょうか
I am 14 years old and facing a dilemma. My father isn't particularly religious, but my mother is a strict Catholic, and my older sister and brother have been confirmed. I have another six months before I am expected to go through the process of confirmation. I do not want to do this. But as the time approaches, my mother has become increasingly forceful on the subject. I do not share my mother's beliefs, although I do believe in God. My father supports my choice, and I've tried to explain it to my mother, but she won't have any of it. she won't have any of it.はどのような意味でしょうか？よろしくお願いします
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