AnnotationThe last novel Ernest Hem

Annotation
The last novel Ernest Hemingway saw published, The Old Man and the Sea has proved itself to be
one of the enduring works of American fiction. It is the story of an old Cuban fisherman and his supreme
ordeal: a relentless, agonizing battle with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream. Using the simple,
powerful language of a fable, Hemingway takes the timeless themes of courage in the face of defeat and
personal triumph won from loss and transforms them into a magnificent twentieth-century classic.
Ernest Hemingway
Ernest Hemingway
The Old Man and the Sea
To Charlie Shribner
And
To Max Perkins
He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days
now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a
fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the
worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish
the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always
went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled
around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent
defeat.
The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of
the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The
blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling
heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless
desert.
Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were
cheerful and undefeated.
“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I
could go with you again. We’ve made some money.”
The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.
“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”
“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day
for three weeks.”
“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”
“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”
“I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.”
“He hasn’t much faith.”
“No,” the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we?”
“Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.”
“Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.”
They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry.
Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke
politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of
what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin
out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank,
to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had
caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on
a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut
into strips for salting.
When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today
there was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off
and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.
“Santiago,” the boy said.
“Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.
“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”
“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”
“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you. I would like to serve in some way.”
“You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.”
“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”
“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to
pieces. Can you remember?”
“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I
can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat
shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over
me.”
“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”
“I remember everything from when we first went together.”
The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.
“If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble,” he said. “But you are your father’s and your
mother’s and you are in a lucky boat.”
“May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too.”
“I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box.”
“Let me get four fresh ones.”
“One,” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were freshening
as when the breeze rises.
“Two,” the boy said.
“Two,” the old man agreed. “You didn’t steal them?”
“I would,” the boy said. “But I bought these.”
“Thank you,” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he
knew he had attained it and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.
“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,” he said.
“Where are you going?” the boy asked.
“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light.”
“I’ll try to get him to work far out,” the boy said. “Then if you hook something truly big we can come
to your aid.”
“He does not like to work too far out.”
“No,” the boy said. “But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him
to come out after dolphin.”
“Are his eyes that bad?”
“He is almost blind.”
“It is strange,” the old man said. “He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”
“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good.”
“I am a strange old man”
“But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?”
“I think so. And there are many tricks.”
“Let us take the stuff home,” the boy said. “So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”
They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy
carried the wooden boat with the coiled, hard-braided brown lines, the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft.
The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the big
fish when they were brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the
sail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was quite sure no local people
would steal from him, the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in
a boat.
They walked up the road together to the old man’s shack and went in through its open door. The old
man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear
beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough
budshields of the royal palm which are called guano and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a
place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of
the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the
Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the
wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner
under his clean shirt.
“What do you have to eat?” the boy asked.
“A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?”
“No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?”
“No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold.”
“May I take the cast net?”
“Of course.”
There was no cast net and the boy remembered when they had sold it. But they went through this
fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.
“Eighty-five is a lucky number,” the old man said. “How would you like to see me bring one in that
dressed out over a thousand pounds?”
“I’ll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway?”
“Yes. I have yesterday’s paper and I will read the baseball.”
The boy did not know whether yesterday’s paper was a fiction too. But the old man brought it out
from under the bed.
“Perico gave it to me at the bodega,” he explained. “I’ll be back when I have the sardines. I’ll keep
yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me
about the baseball.”
“The Yankees cannot lose.”
“But I fear the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.”
“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sax of Chicago.”
“You study it and tell me when I come back.”
“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the eightyfifth
day.”
“We can do that,” the boy said. “But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?”
“It could not happen twice. Do you think you can find an eighty-five?”
“I can order one.
“One sheet. That’s two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?”
“That’s easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half.”
“I think

النتائج (العربية) 1:

تعليق توضيحيالرواية الأخيرة شهدت إرنست همنغواي المنشورة، العجوز والبحر وقد أثبتت نفسهاأحد دائم يعمل الخيال الأمريكي. أنها قصة صياد كوبي قديمة وبلدة العلياالمحنة: معركة لا هوادة فيها، والمؤلمة مع مارلن عملاقة الآن في تيار الخليج. استخدام البسيطة،لغة قوية من خرافة، همنغواي يأخذ المواضيع الخالدة للشجاعة في مواجهة الهزيمة وفاز من فقدان انتصار شخصي ويحول لهم في القرن العشرين كلاسيكية رائعة.إرنست همنغوايإرنست همنغوايالرجل العجوز والبحرلتشارلي شريبنيروإلى ماكس بيركنزوكان رجل عجوز الذين الصيد وحدها في الزورق الصغير في تيار الخليج وذهب أربعة وثمانين يوماالآن دون أخذ سمكة. وفي الأيام الأربعين الأولى كان صبي معه. ولكن بعد أربعين يوما دونالأسماك الآباء الصبي قال له أن العجوز كان الآن بالتأكيد، وأخيراً سالو،أسوأ شكل سيئ الحظ، والصبي قد ذهب في الطلبات الخاصة بهم في قارب آخر والقبض على ثلاثة من الأسماك الجيدةالأسبوع الأول. جعلت الصبي حزينا لرؤية رجل يبلغ من العمر، ويأتي في كل يوم مع أن الزورق الصغير فارغة وأنه دائماًذهب إلى أسفل لمساعدته على تحمل أما الأسطر الملتفة أو مهماز لديك المصارعة وهاربون والشراع الذي كان فورليدحول الصاري. الشراع كانت مصححة بأكياس الطحين، وفورليد، وبدأ وكأنه علم الدائمالهزيمة.وكان رجل يبلغ من العمر رقيقة ومهترئا مع التجاعيد العميقة في الجزء الخلفي من رقبته. بقع براون منthe benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. Theblotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handlingheavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishlessdesert.Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and werecheerful and undefeated.“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “Icould go with you again. We’ve made some money.”The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every dayfor three weeks.”“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”“I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.”“He hasn’t much faith.”“No,” the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we?”“Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.”“Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.”They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry.Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spokepolitely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and ofwhat they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlinout and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank,to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who hadcaught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted ona block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cutinto strips for salting.When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but todaythere was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped offand it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.“Santiago,” the boy said.“Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you. I would like to serve in some way.”“You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.”“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat topieces. Can you remember?”“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. Ican remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boatshiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all overme.”“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”“I remember everything from when we first went together.”The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.“If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble,” he said. “But you are your father’s and yourmother’s and you are in a lucky boat.”“May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too.”“I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box.”“Let me get four fresh ones.”“One,” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were fresheningas when the breeze rises.“Two,” the boy said.“Two,” the old man agreed. “You didn’t steal them?”“I would,” the boy said. “But I bought these.”“Thank you,” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But heknew he had attained it and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,” he said.“Where are you going?” the boy asked.“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light.”“I’ll try to get him to work far out,” the boy said. “Then if you hook something truly big we can cometo your aid.”“He does not like to work too far out.”“No,” the boy said. “But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get himto come out after dolphin.”“Are his eyes that bad?”“He is almost blind.”“It is strange,” the old man said. “He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good.”“I am a strange old man”“But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?”“I think so. And there are many tricks.”“Let us take the stuff home,” the boy said. “So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boycarried the wooden boat with the coiled, hard-braided brown lines, the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft.The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the bigfish when they were brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take thesail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was quite sure no local peoplewould steal from him, the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave ina boat.
They walked up the road together to the old man’s shack and went in through its open door. The old
man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear
beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough
budshields of the royal palm which are called guano and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a
place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of
the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the
Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the
wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner
under his clean shirt.
“What do you have to eat?” the boy asked.
“A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?”
“No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?”
“No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold.”
“May I take the cast net?”
“Of course.”
There was no cast net and the boy remembered when they had sold it. But they went through this
fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.
“Eighty-five is a lucky number,” the old man said. “How would you like to see me bring one in that
dressed out over a thousand pounds?”
“I’ll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway?”
“Yes. I have yesterday’s paper and I will read the baseball.”
The boy did not know whether yesterday’s paper was a fiction too. But the old man brought it out
from under the bed.
“Perico gave it to me at the bodega,” he explained. “I’ll be back when I have the sardines. I’ll keep
yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me
about the baseball.”
“The Yankees cannot lose.”
“But I fear the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.”
“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sax of Chicago.”
“You study it and tell me when I come back.”
“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the eightyfifth
day.”
“We can do that,” the boy said. “But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?”
“It could not happen twice. Do you think you can find an eighty-five?”
“I can order one.
“One sheet. That’s two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?”
“That’s easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half.”
“I think

النتائج (العربية) 2:

الشرح
الرواية مشاركة إرنست همنغواي رأى نشرت، العجوز وأثبت البحر لنفسها بأن تكون
واحدة من الأعمال المستمرة من الخيال الأميركي. إنها قصة من صياد الكوبي القديم وله العليا
المحنة: أ لا هوادة فيها، معركة مؤلمة مع مارلن العملاقة بعيدا في تيار الخليج. باستخدام وبسيطة
لغة قوية من خرافة، همنغواي يأخذ الموضوعات الخالدة الشجاعة في مواجهة هزيمة و
انتصار شخصي فاز من الضياع ويحولها إلى الكلاسيكية رائع من القرن العشرين.
إرنست همنغواي
ارنست همنغواي
العجوز والبحر
ل تشارلي Shribner
و
لماكس بيركنز
وكان شيخا كبيرا بالصيد وحده في مركب شراعي صغير في تيار الخليج وانه ذهب أربعة وثمانون يوما
الآن دون اتخاذ الأسماك. في أول أربعين يوما صبي كان معه. ولكن بعد أربعين يوما من دون
الأسماك والدي الطفل أخبرته أن الرجل العجوز كان الآن بالتأكيد وأخيرا salao، الذي هو
أسوأ شكل من أشكال سيئ الحظ، وكان الصبي ذهب في أوامرهم في قارب آخر والتي اشتعلت ثلاثة الأسماك الجيدة
الأولى أسبوع. جعلت الصبي المحزن أن نرى رجل يبلغ من العمر تأتي في كل يوم مع مركب شراعي صغير له فارغة وكان دائما
نزل لمساعدته على تحمل إما خطوط ملفوف أو مهماز لديك المصارعة والحربة والشراع الذي كان ملفوف
حول الصاري. وكان يرقع الشراع مع أكياس الطحين و، ملفوف، بدا الأمر وكأن علم دائمة
الهزيمة.
وكان الرجل البالغ من العمر رقيقة وهزيلة مع التجاعيد العميقة في الجزء الخلفي من رقبته. وظهور بقع بنية اللون من
ان سرطان الجلد الخيرين الشمس يجلب من انعكاسه على البحر الاستوائية على وجنتيه. و
ركض بقع جيدا أسفل جانبي وجهه ويديه والندوب مجعدة العميقة من التعامل مع
الأسماك الثقيلة على الحبال. ولكن أيا من هذه الندوب كانت جديدة. كانت قديمة قدم تقرحات في fishless
الصحراء.
كان كل شيء عنه القديمة باستثناء عينيه وكانت نفس لون البحر وكانت
البهجة ومهزوم.
"سانتياغو"، وقال الصبي له وهم يحاولون تسلق البنك من حيث وتم نقل القارب حتى. "أنا
يمكن أن تذهب معك مرة أخرى. لقد حققنا بعض المال. "
وكان الرجل البالغ من العمر تدرس الصبي إلى الأسماك والصبي تحبه.
" لا، قال الرجل العجوز ". "أنت مع قارب محظوظا. البقاء معهم. "
" ولكن تذكر كيف ذهبت سبعة وثمانين يوما من دون الأسماك ومن ثم وقعنا الكبيرة كل يوم
لمدة ثلاثة أسابيع. "
وقال الرجل العجوز:" أتذكر ". "أنا أعلم أنك لم تترك لي لأنك شككت."
"لقد كان جعلت بابا لي بالمغادرة. وأنا صبي ويجب أن تطيعه. "
" أعرف "قال الرجل العجوز. "إنه أمر طبيعي تماما."
واضاف "انه لم الكثير من الثقة."
"لا"، قال الرجل العجوز. "ولكن لدينا. لم نحن؟ "
" نعم "، وقال الصبي. "هل يمكنني نقدم لكم البيرة على الشرفة وبعد ذلك سنقوم تأخذ الاشياء منزل."
وقال "لماذا لا؟" الرجل العجوز. "بين الصيادين."
جلسوا على شرفة والعديد من الصيادين يسخرون من الرجل العجوز وأنه لم يكن غاضبا.
آخرون، من الصيادين كبار السن، نظرت إليه وكان حزينا. لكنها لم تظهر ذلك وتحدثوا
بأدب عن التيار وأعماق أنها قد جنحت خطوطها في وثابتة الطقس الجيد و
ما رأوه. وكان الصيادون الناجح لهذا اليوم بالفعل في وقد ذبح مارلن من
خارج وحملهم ضعت بالطول عبر وحين، مع اثنين من الرجال مذهلة؛ في نهاية كل لوح،
إلى منزل الأسماك حيث انتظر شاحنة الجليد لحملها إلى السوق في هافانا. أولئك الذين
قد أسماك القرش اشتعلت اتخذت منها إلى مصنع القرش على الجانب الآخر من كوف حيث تم رفع على
كتلة ومعالجة، أكبادهم إزالتها، زعانفها قطعت والبشرة جلودها الخروج وقطع لحمهم
إلى شرائح لالتمليح .
عندما كانت الريح في الشرق جاءت رائحة عبر الميناء من المصنع أسماك القرش. ولكن اليوم
لم يكن هناك سوى حافة خافت من رائحة لأن الرياح كانت تدعمها في شمال وثم ينزلوا
وكان لطيف ومشمس على الشرفة.
"سانتياغو" قال الصبي.
"نعم"، وقال الرجل العجوز. وكان عقد كأسه والتفكير من قبل سنوات عديدة.
"يمكنني الخروج للحصول على السردين بالنسبة لك ليوم غد؟"
"رقم اذهب والعب لعبة البيسبول. أنا لا تزال صف وسوف روجيليو رمي الشباك. "
" أود أن أذهب. إذا كنت لا يمكن أن الأسماك معك. وأود أن تكون بطريقة أو بأخرى ".
" هل اشترى لي البيرة "قال الرجل العجوز. "انت بالفعل رجل."
"كم كان عمر أنا عندما كنت أخذت لي أولا في قارب؟"
"خمسة وكنت تقريبا قتلوا عندما احضرت الأسماك باللون الأخضر للغاية وانه مزق تقريبا قارب لل
قطعة. يمكنك تذكر؟ "
" ما أتذكره الذيل الصفع وضجيجا وإحباط كسر وضوضاء من ارتياد النوادي. أنا
يمكن أن تذكر أنك رمي لي في القوس حيث كانت خطوط ملفوف الرطب والشعور القارب كلها
ترتعد وضوضاء منكم ارتياد له مثل تقطيع شجرة أسفل ورائحة الدم حلوة في جميع أنحاء
لي. "
" هل يمكن حقا أن نتذكر أن أو لم أكن أقول لكم؟ "
" أتذكر كل شيء من عندما ذهبنا لأول مرة معا. "
بدا الرجل العجوز في وجهه مع نظيره المحترقة الشمس، وعيون المحبة واثقة.
" لو كنت ابني كنت يأخذك و وقال مقامرة ". واضاف "لكن كنت والدك والخاص
الأم وأنت في قارب محظوظا."
"هل لي أن الحصول على السردين؟ وأنا أعلم أين يمكنني الحصول على أربعة الطعم جدا. "
" لقد الألغام التي خلفتها اليوم. أنا وضعت لهم في الملح في المربع. "
" اسمحوا لي أن الحصول على أربع الطازجة. "
وقال" واحد "الرجل العجوز. كان أمله وثقته ذهب أبدا. ولكن الآن كانوا يجدد
كما يقوم النسيم.
"اثنان" قال الصبي.
"اثنان"، وافق الرجل العجوز. "أنت لم يسرق منها؟"
، قال الصبي "أود". واضاف "لكن اشتريت هذه."
وقال "شكرا لكم" الرجل العجوز. وكان بسيط جدا لنتساءل عندما حققت التواضع. لكنه
يعلم انه قد تحقق ذلك وانه كان يعرف انه لا المشين وتجر أي فقدان للفخر حقيقي.
"غدا سيكون يوما جيدا مع هذا التيار،" قال.
"إلى أين أنت ذاهب؟" الصبي سأل .
"الأقصى إلى تأتي في عند التحولات الرياح. أريد أن أكون من قبل أنها خفيفة. "
"، سأحاول الحصول عليه للعمل بعيدا "قال الصبي. "ثم إذا وصل شيء كبير حقا يمكن أن نأتي
لمساعدة الخاص بك."
واضاف "لا ترغب في العمل من مسافة بعيدة."
"لا"، قال الصبي. "ولكن سوف نرى ما لا يستطيع أن يرى مثل عمل الطيور والحصول عليه
ليخرج بعد الدلفين."
"هل عينيه بهذا السوء؟"
"هو أعمى تقريبا."
"ومن الغريب"، وقال الرجل البالغ من العمر . واضاف "انه لم يذهب السلاحف جي. هذا هو ما يقتل العيون. "
واضاف" لكن ذهبت السلاحف جي لسنوات قبالة ساحل البعوض وعينيك جيدة. "
" أنا رجل عجوز غريب "
" ولكن هل أنت قوي بما فيه الكفاية الآن لسمكة كبيرة حقا؟ "
"أعتقد. وهناك العديد من الحيل ".
وأضاف" دعونا اتخاذ المنزل الاشياء "قال الصبي. "لذلك يمكنني الحصول الشباك الزهر وملاحقة السردين."
انهم التقط العتاد من القارب. قام رجل يبلغ من العمر الصاري على كتفه والولد
قام زورق خشبي مع ملفوف، وخطوط مضفر يصعب البني، مهماز لديك المصارعة والحربة مع رمح لها.
وكان مربع مع الطعوم تحت مؤخرة القارب جنبا إلى جنب مع النادي الذي كان يستخدم لإخضاع كبيرة
السمك عندما نقلوا جنبا إلى جنب. لا أحد يسرق من رجل يبلغ من العمر ولكنه كان الأفضل أن تأخذ
الشراع وخطوط الثقيلة المنزل كما كان الندى سيئة بالنسبة لهم، ورغم أنه لم يكن متأكدا تماما أي السكان المحليين
أن يسرق منه، فكر الرجل العجوز أن مهماز لديك المصارعة والحربة وإغراءات لا داعي لترك في
قارب.
وساروا على الطريق معا لكوخ الرجل العجوز وذهب في طريق الباب المفتوح. القديم
انحنى الرجل الصاري مع الشراع ملفوفة ضد الجدار ووضع الصبي مربع ومعدات أخرى
بجانبها. كان سارية تقريبا طويلة مثل غرفة واحدة من كوخ. وجاء في كوخ من صعبة
budshields من النخيل الملكي والتي تسمى ذرق الطائر وكان هناك سرير وطاولة وكرسي واحد، و
مكان على الأرضية الترابية لطهي الطعام مع الفحم. على الجدران البني من بالارض، ويترك متداخلة من
ذرق الطائر فيبيريد قوي كانت هناك صورة في اللون من قلب يسوع الأقدس وآخر لل
عذراء كوبر. وكانت هذه الاثار من زوجته. مرة واحدة كانت هناك صورة ملون زوجته على
الجدار لكنه كان قد أخذ عليه لأنه جعله وحيدا جدا لرؤية ذلك، وكان على الرف في الزاوية
تحت قميصه نظيفة.
"ماذا لديك لتناول الطعام؟ "سأل الطفل.
" وعاء من الأرز الأصفر مع السمك. هل تريد بعض؟ "
" رقم وسوف تناول الطعام في المنزل. هل تريد مني أن جعل النار؟ "
" رقم سأدلي وقت لاحق. أو أنا قد أكل البرد الأرز ".
" هل لي أن صافي المدلى بها؟ "
" بالطبع. "
لم يكن هناك شبكة الزهر والولد تذكرت عندما كان بيعها. ولكن ذهبوا من خلال هذا
الخيال في كل يوم. لم يكن هناك أي وعاء من الأرز الأصفر والأسماك والصبي يعرف ذلك أيضا.
"، وخمسة وثمانون هو رقم الحظ" قال الرجل العجوز. "كيف تريد أن تراني تحقيق واحد في أن
يرتدي بها أكثر من ألف جنيه؟"
"سأحضر صافي المدلى بها والذهاب لالسردين. وكنت أجلس في الشمس في المدخل؟ "
" نعم. لدي ورقة الأمس وسأقرأ لاعب البيسبول ".
وقال إن الصبي لا يعرف ما إذا كانت ورقة الأمس الخيال أيضا. ولكن الرجل العجوز أحضر بها
من تحت السرير.
"أعطى بيريكو لي في بودجى"، وأوضح. "سأعود عندما يكون لدي السردين. سوف أظل
لك والألغام معا على الجليد، ونحن يمكن أن مشاركتها في الصباح. عندما أعود لك أن تقول لي
عن لعبة البيسبول. "
" لا يمكن لليانكيز تفقد ".
" لكن أخشى أن الهنود كليفلاند. "
" ليس لديهم ثقة في يانكيز ابني. التفكير في ديماجيو العظيم. "
" أخشى كل من نمور ديترويت والهنود كليفلاند. "
" كن حذرا أو كنت أخاف حتى ليفربول سينسيناتي وساكس الأبيض من شيكاغو. "
" أنت دراسته وتقول لي عندما أعود. "
" هل تعتقد أننا يجب أن تشتري محطة اليانصيب مع خمسة وثمانون؟ غدا هو eightyfifth
اليوم ".
"، يمكننا أن نفعل ذلك "قال الصبي. "ولكن ماذا عن سبعة وثمانين من سجل الخاصة بك الكبير؟"
"إنه لا يمكن أن يحدث مرتين. هل تعتقد أنك يمكن أن تجد خمسة وثمانون؟ "
" لا يمكنني طلب واحد.
"ورقة واحدة. هذا دولارين ونصف. الذين يمكن أن نقترض أن من؟ "
واضاف" هذا أمر سهل. أنا يمكن أن تقترض دائما دولارين ونصف ".
واضاف" اعتقد