The Zoo Story — Про зоопарк
THE ZOO STORY The players:
Peter:
A man in his early forties, neither fat nor gaunt, neither handsome nor homely. He wears tweeds, smokes a pipe, carries
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Imagery in Translation
horn-rimmed glasses. Although he is moving into middle age, his dress and his manner would suggest a man younger.
Jerry:
A man in his late thirties, not poorly dressed, but carelessly. What was once a trim and lightly muscled body has begun to go too fat; and while he is no longer handsome, it is evident that he once was. His fall from physical grace should not suggest debauchery; he has, to come closest to it, a great weariness.
The scene:
Central Park, New York, on a Sunday afternoon in summer. There are two park benches; toward either side of the stage, they both face the audience. Behind them: foliage, trees, sky. When the curtain rises, Peter is seated on the right bench, reading a book. Jerry enters the stage from the left and crosses to the centre.
Jerry: I've been to the Zoo. {Loudly) Mister, I've been to the Zoo.
Peter {looking up): Hm? What? I'm sorry, were you talking to me?
Jerry: I went to the Zoo, and then I walked until I came here. Have I been walking north?
Peter {Puzzled): Why — 1 — I think so. Let me see... Jerry {Pointing out front): Is that Fifth Avenue? Peter: Why,yes, yes, it is.
Jerry: And what is that cross street there; that one, to the right? Peter: That? Oh, that's Seventy-fourth Street.
Jerry: And the Zoo is around Sixty-fifth Street; so, I've been walking north.
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Практикум по художественному переводу_____
Peter{anxious to get back to his reading): Yes; it would seem so.
Jerry:Good old north.
Peter{lightly; by reflex): Ha, ha!
Jerry{after a slight pause): But not due north.
Peter:I — well, no, not due north; but we — call it north. It's northerly.
{Jerry watches as Peter, anxious to dismiss him, prepares his pipe.)
Jerry:Well, boy; you're not going to get lung cancer, are
you?
Peter:No, sir. Not from this.
Jerry:No, sir. What you'll probably get is cancer of the mouth, and then you'll have to wear one of those things Freud wore after they took one whole side of his jaw away. What do they call those things?
Peter{uncomfortably): A prosthesis? {He lights his pipe.)
Jerry:The very thing! A prosthesis. You're an educated man, aren't you? Are you a doctor?
Peter:Oh, no; no. I read about it somewhere; Time magazine, I think. {He turns to his book).
Jerry:Well, Time magazine isn't for blockheads. Peter{looking up): No, 1 suppose not.
Jerry{after a pause): Boy, I'm glad that's Fifth Avenue there.
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