Profa. Julitce Camejo de Ajayi INGLÉS II .

Tema V

TRADUCCIÓN DE TEXTOS CORTOS

Cagua, 11/6/2022

Students: Efran Higuera C.I 29728752

José Gallardo C.I 27882950

Trabajo en equipo
1) Translate the following short stories extracts (8 pts)
Text A: The Peaches
The grass-green cart, with ‘J. Jones, Gorsehill’
painted shakily on it, stopped in the
cobblestone passage between ‘The Hare’s
Foot’ and ‘the Pure Drop’. It was late on an
April evening. Uncle Jim, in his black market
suit with a stiff white shirt and no collar, loud
new boots, and a plaid cap, creaked and
climbed down. He dragged out a thick wicker
basket from a heap of straw in the corner of
the cart and swung it over his shoulder. I
heard a squeal from the basket and saw the
tip of a pink tail curling out as Uncle Jim
opened the public door of ‘The Pure Drop.’ ‘I
won’t be two minutes,’ he said to me. The bar
was full; two fat women in bright dresses sat
near the door, one with a dark child on her
knee; they saw Uncle Jim and nudged up on
the bench. ‘I’ll be out straight away,’ he said
fiercely, as though I had contradicted him,
‘and you stay there quiet.
Text B: A Visit to Grandpa’s
In the middle of the night I woke from a dream
full of whips and lariats as long as serpents,
and runaway coaches on mountain passes, and
wide, windy gallops over cactus fields, and I
heard the man in the next room crying, ‘Gee-
up!’ and ‘Whoa!’ and trotting his tongue on
the roof of his mouth. It was the first time I
had stayed in grandpa’s house. The
floorboards had squeaked like mice as I
climbed into bed, and the mice between the
walls had creaked like wood as though another
visitor was walking on them. It was a mild
summer night, but curtains had flapped and
branches beaten against the window. I had
pulled my sheets over my head, and soon was
roaring and riding in a book.
. Text C: The Fight
I was standing at the end of the lower
playground and annoying Mr Samuels, who
lived in the house just below the high railings.
Mr Samuels complained once a week that boys
from the school threw apples and stones and
balls through his bedroom window. He sat in a
deck chair in a small square of trim garden and
tried to read his newspaper. I was only a few
yards from him. I was staring him out. He
pretended not to notice me, but I knew he
knew I was standing there rudely and quietly.
Every now and then he peeped at me from
behind his newspaper, saw me still and serious
and alone, with my eyes on his. As soon as he
lost his temper I was going home. Already I
was late for dinner. I had almost beaten him,
the newspaper was trembling, he was
breathing heavily, when a strange boy, whom I
had not heard approached, pushed me down
the bank.
Text D: One Warm Saturday
In the huddle of picnicking women and their
children, stretched out limp and damp in the
sweltering sun or fussing over paper carriers or
building castles that were at once destroyed
by the tattered march of other picnickers to
different pieces of the beach, among the ice-
cream cries, the angrily happy shouts of boys
playing ball, and the screams of the girls as the
sea rose to their waists, the young man sat
alone with the shadows of his failure at his
side. (…) The young man, in his wilderness,
saw the holiday Saturday set down before him;
false and pretty, as a flat picture under the
vulgar sun;
 ANSWERS
Texto A: Melocotones
El carruaje verde hierba, con 'J. Jones,
Gorsehill' pintado temblorosamente en él, se
detuvo en el pasaje empedrado entre 'The
Hare's Foot' y 'the Pure Drop'. Era tarde en una
noche de abril. El tío Jim, con su traje del
mercado negro de camisa blanca sin cuello
almidonado, llamativas botas nuevas y gorra a
cuadros, crujió y bajó. Sacó una gruesa cesta
de mimbre de un montón de paja en la
esquina del carro y se la echó al hombro.
Escuché un chirrido de la canasta y vi la punta
de una cola rosa enroscarse cuando el tío Jim
abrió la puerta pública de 'The Pure Drop'. 'No
tardaré ni dos minutos', me dijo. El bar estaba
repleto; dos mujeres gordas con vestidos
brillantes estaban sentadas cerca de la puerta,
una con un niño moreno en sus rodillas; vieron
al tío Jim y se sentaron en el banco. "Me iré
enseguida", dijo ferozmente, como si lo
contradijera, "y quédate quieto".
Texto B: Una visita a casa del abuelo
En medio de la noche me desperté de un
sueño lleno de látigos y lazos tan largos como
serpientes, y carrozas desbocadas en pasos de
montaña, y galopes anchos y ventosos sobre
campos de cactus, y escuché al hombre en la
habitación de al lado gritar, '¡Caramba! -
¡arriba!' y '¡Whoa!', y trotaba la lengua por el
paladar. Era la primera vez que me quedaba
en casa del abuelo. Las tablas del suelo habían
chirriado como ratones cuando me subí a la
cama, y los ratones entre las paredes habían
crujido como madera como si otro visitante
estuviera caminando sobre ellos. Era una
noche templada de verano, pero las cortinas
se habían agitado y las ramas golpeaban
contra la ventana. Me había tapado la cabeza
con las sábanas y pronto estaba rugiendo y
cabalgando en un libro.
Texto C: La pelea Texto D: Un cálido sábado

En el amontonamiento de mujeres y sus hijos

Estaba de pie al final del patio de recreo
inferior y molestando al Sr. Samuels, que vivía
en la casa justo debajo de las altas rejas. El
señor Samuels se quejaba una vez a la semana
de que los chicos de la escuela tiraban
manzanas, piedras y pelotas por la ventana de
su dormitorio. Se sentó en una tumbona en
una pequeña plaza de jardín e intentó leer el
periódico. Yo estaba a sólo unos metros de él.
Lo estaba mirando. Fingió no darse cuenta de
mí, pero yo sabía que él sabía que yo estaba
que hacían un picnic, tumbados fláccidos y
húmedos bajo el sol abrasador o afanándose
con los portapapeles o construyendo castillos
que fueron destruidos de inmediato por la
marcha andrajosa de otros excursionistas a
diferentes partes de la playa, entre las heladas
los gritos de color crema, los gritos de enfado
y felicidad de los niños que jugaban a la pelota
y los gritos de las niñas cuando el mar les
llegaba a la cintura, el joven se sentó solo con
las sombras de su fracaso a su lado. (…) El
joven, en su desierto, vio puesto ante sí el
sábado festivo; falso y bonito, como un cuadro
plano bajo el sol vulgar;

allí de pie de forma grosera y en silencio. De

vez en cuando me asomaba por detrás de su
periódico, me veía quieta, seria y sola, con mis
ojos en los suyos. Tan pronto como perdiera
los estribos, me iría a casa. Ya llegué tarde a la
cena. Casi lo había golpeado, el periódico
temblaba, respiraba con dificultad, cuando un
chico extraño, a quien no había oído, se acercó
y me empujó por la orilla.
 2) Match the titles in the left list with the words in the right list (each one of
them appear in the short stories above) 4pts)

1. The Peaches c. grass-green cart / basket / market / boots

2. A Visit to Grandpa's d. visitor / floorboards / house / night

3. The Fight b. playground / stones / trembling / pushed

4. One Warm Saturday a. picnickers / ice-cream / beach / castles

3) Have you ever been in any of these situations? Can you describe at least
one of them? (write something short about in English, please) 4pts)

• Waiting for someone for a long time

• Visiting the house of a relative with whom you are not really familiar
• Getting involved in a fight at school
• Observing people on the beach or in a park

Yes, sometimes I stay on the beach watching the people passing by and
thinking that this place is very nice.

4) Choose one of the short stories, select the topic sentence and the
secondary idea or ideas. (4 pts)

- Text D) One Warm Saturday

In the huddle of picnicking women and their children, stretched out limp and
damp in the sweltering sun or fussing over paper carriers or building castles that were
at once destroyed by the tattered march of other picnickers to different pieces of the
beach, among the ice-cream cries, the angrily happy shouts of boys playing ball,
and the screams of the girls as the sea rose to their waists, the young man sat
alone with the shadows of his failure at his side. (…) The young man, in his
wilderness, saw the holiday Saturday set down before him; false and pretty, as a
flat picture under the vulgar sun;

the topic sentence.

the secondary idea or ideas.

All The best for you!