Переведу Ваши книги на английский язык
Автор: Olivia SteeleВкратце напоминаю, что по-прежнему беру заказы на перевод книг здешних авторов любого жанра и обьема на английский язык. Стоимость 7000 рублей за авторский лист, срок выполнения, в связи с параллельным заказом - 6 а/л в месяц.
Примеры моего художественного перевода можно посмотреть здесь и здесь, на сайте Автор Тудей на данный момент уже перевела на английский следующие книги:
Ну и, по традиции, пример ещё одного отрывка перевода одной из моих книг. И да, для тех, кто, как в прошлый раз, захочет прийти в комментарии чисто обосрать, уверяя, что так, как я перевожу, можно сделать одной лишь нейросетью - на этот раз публикую перевод и нейросети, и мой - для сравнения.
Салтыков, с сияющей квадратной физиономией, вихрем сбежал с университетского крыльца. Внизу, неспешно покуривая, дожидались его Павля, Кузька и Дима Негодяев.
— Сдал?
— Ага! Прямо гора с плеч… — Салтыков привычным движением вынул у Павли из пачки сигарету, — Да не жмотись ты, чёрт! Ну, а вы?..
— Ой, меня лучше не спрашивай, — потупился Дима Негодяев.
— Сколько тебе ещё осталось, Андрюх? — спросил Кузька.
— Метрология ещё… Опус...
— Ну, это ерунда! — махнул рукой Павля.
— Для кого ерунда, а для кого и не ерунда, — проворчал Салтыков, — Одно только радует: скоро весь этот гемор с учёбой закончится...
По дороге из университета парни свернули на улицу Логинова. Салтыков на радостях молол языком не переставая, Павля и Кузька поддакивали, и лишь Негодяев шёл, длинный как башенный кран, возвышаясь над остальными и молчал. У него у самого с учёбой был полный зашквар, и удача Салтыкова не радовала его, а, напротив, злила и раздражала.
— Вообще, ненавижу эти письменные экзамены, — тарабанил Салтыков, попутно гоняя ногой по дороге обломок льда, — Писал в пятницу, а результаты только в понедельник. Все выходные дёргался, написал или нет...
— А мне как-то по барабану, — признался Павля, — Это раньше, в школе из-за контрольных парился, а щас...
— Дак чё, мне тоже по барабану, просто больше из-за неизвестности психуешь, — сказал Салтыков, — Вот и щас тоже думаю: диплом получу, а дальше куда? Раньше всё как-то проще казалось: сначала в школе жизнь на десять лет вперёд была расписана, потом универ… А щас вот и не знаю, куда мне после диплома податься...
— Как куда? — изумился Кузька, — Разве ты не будешь работать в конторе своего отца?
— Ну и чё я там в этом Гражданпроекте заработаю? Это же госпредприятие, платят там копейки! А я хочу свой собственный бизнес, хочу много денег...
— Ну, в Архе ты много денег не заработаешь, — отрезал Павля, — За деньгами это тебе надо в Москву или в Питер ехать...
— Вот я и думаю щас над этим… Остоебенило мне тут всё — может, правда в Москву податься...
— Ну-ну, подался один такой, — неожиданно встрял в разговор молчавший до этого Негодяев, — А жить ты там где собрался? На заднем дворе, в собачьей конуре?
— Почему в собачьей конуре? — обиделся Салтыков.
— Ну, а где? Ты хоть знаешь, сколько там одно жильё стоит снимать? Без штанов останешься! — ехидничал Димас, — И какой ты там бизнес собрался мутить без прописки? Говно на телеге вывозить?
— Ну почему сразу говно? Ты, Негодяев, любишь всё усложнять, тебя послушать, дак вообще хоть ничего не предпринимай, знай сиди себе на жопе да штаны протирай...
— А тебя послушать, дак такую чушь городишь, что в зубы не возьмёшь, — огрызнулся Дима, — Всё, я пошёл домой, не могу больше твою чепуху переваривать.
Он холодно попрощался за руку с приятелями и, подняв воротник и засунув руки в карманы, зашагал семимильными шагами в сторону центра.
— Психует, — глядя ему вслед, ухмыльнулся Мочалыч, — До госов его не допускают, вот и нервничает...
— Да и хуй с ним, путь психует, — отозвался Салтыков, прокручивая что-то в своём уме.
Мимо проехала какая-то замызганная «легковушка», окатив парней грязным снегом из-под колёс. Матерясь, Павля отскочил от края тротуара, начал суетливо тереть свои джинсы.
А Салтыков, погружённый в свои соображения, даже не заметил этого.
- Whoo-hoo! I passed foundation and footings with a four. I didn't expect that!
Saltykov, with a shining square face, ran down the university porch in a whirlwind. Pawlya, Kuzka and Dima Negodyaev were waiting for him downstairs, smoking leisurely.
- Did you pass?
- Aha! A mountain off my shoulders... - Saltykov took a cigarette out of Pavlya's packet with his usual movement, - Don't be stingy, damn it! Well, and you?...?
- Oh, it's better not to ask me, - Dima Negodyayev faded away.
- How long do you have left, Andrew? - Kuzka asked.
- Metrology still ... Opus ...
- Well, it's nothing! - Pawlya waved his hand.
- For whom it's nothing, and for whom it's not nothing, - grumbled Saltykov, - One thing is only happy: soon all this trouble with studies will be over....
On the way out of the university the boys turned down Loginova Street. Saltykov was flailing his tongue in joy, Pawlya and Kuzka were agreeing, and only Rascal was walking, long as a tower crane, towering above the others and kept silent. His own studies were a complete shambles, and Saltykov's good fortune did not please him, but, on the contrary, made him angry and annoyed.
- In general, I hate these written exams, - drummed Saltykov, while driving his foot on the road a fragment of ice - I wrote on Friday, and the results only on Monday. All weekend I was fidgeting, whether I had written or not....
- I don't give a damn, - admitted Pawel, - It used to be in school, I used to worry about tests, but now....
- So what, I don't give a damn either, it's just that you're freaking out more because of the unknown,” said Saltykov, ”And now I'm thinking: I'll get my diploma, but where to go from here?Everything seemed simpler before: first at school life was planned for ten years ahead, then university... And now I don't know where to go after graduation....
- Where? - Kuzka marveled, “Aren't you going to work in your father's office?
- And what will I earn there in this Civic Project? It's a state enterprise, they pay pennies! And I want my own business, I want a lot of money...
- Well, you won't make much money in Arkh, - Pawlya cut off, - For money you have to go to Moscow or to Peter....
- I'm thinking about it now... I'm sick of everything here... Maybe I should really go to Moscow....
- Well, well, well, you're one of them, - suddenly Rascal, who had been silent until then, joined the conversation, - And where are you going to live there? In the backyard, in a dog kennel?
- Why in a dog kennel?- offended Saltykov.
- Well, where? Do you know how much it costs to rent a place there?You'll be left without pants!- Dimas sneered, “And what kind of business are you going to do there without a residence permit? Shit on a cart?
- Why shit? You, scoundrels, like to complicate everything, listen to you, so even if nothing to do, you know sit on your ass and wipe your pants ...
- And to listen to you, you talk such nonsense that you can't take it in your teeth, - Dima snapped at him, - That's it, I'm going home, I can't digest your nonsense anymore.
He coldly said goodbye to his friends by the hand and, raising his collar and shoving his hands in his pockets, walked at a brisk pace towards the center.
- He's freaking out,” Mochalych grinned, looking after him, ”They won't let him take the state exams, so he's nervous ...
- Fuck it, he's freaking out,” Saltykov said, replaying something in his mind.
A dirty car drove past, spraying the guys with dirty snow from under its wheels. Swearing, Pawlya bounced off the edge of the sidewalk, began fussily rubbing his jeans.
And Saltykov, immersed in his own thoughts, didn't even notice it.
Saltykov, with his shining square face, stormed out of the university frontdoor. Pavlya, Kuzka and Dima Negodyaev were waiting for him downstairs, smoking leisurely.
"Did you?"
"Yep! I'm so relieved," Saltykov habitually pulled a cigarette out of Pavlya's packet, "Don't be stingy, you cheapskate! So what about you guys?"
"As for me, don't even ask", Dima Negodyayev said embarrassed.
"How many more do you have left, Andrew?" Kuzka asked.
"Metrology, too... Opus..."
"Oh well, it's no big deal!" Pavlya said carelessly.
"For you it's no big deal, but for me it is," grumbled Saltykov, "The good news is that soon all this pain in the ass will be over..."
On the way from the university the guys turned to Loginov Street. Saltykov, happy as he was, was running his mouth non-stop, Pavlya and Kuzka listening and chiming in from time to time, and only Negodyaev was walking in silence, as tall as a tower crane compared to the others. His own studies were in a complete shambles, and Saltykov's good fortune did not please him, but, on the contrary, made him angry and annoyed.
"Actually, I hate these written exams", Saltykov chattered, kicking a fragment of ice along the road "I took it last Friday, and got the results only on Monday. All the weekend I was fidgeting and freaking out, not knowing whether or not I had passed it".
"I don't really give a shit," Pavlya said, "Back in school, I used to worry about my tests, but now..."
"Oh well, I don't give a shit either, it's just that you're freaking out because of the unknown,” said Saltykov, ”And now, too, I'm thinking: I'll get my degree, then what? Things seemed a lot simpler before: first at school life was planned for ten years ahead, then university... But now I have no fucking idea where to go after graduation..."
"What do you mean where to go?" Kuzka said surprised, “Aren't you going to work in your father's office?"
"What am I going to I earn there in that Civic Project? It's a state enterprise, the salaries are peanuts! But I want my own business, I want a lot of money..."
"Well, you won't make much money in Arkh, Pawlya cut him off, "For money you have to go to Moscow or to Petersbourg..."
"I'm thinking about it now... I'm so fucking sick of this place... Maybe I should really go to Moscow..."
"Well, well, well, you're one of them", Negodyaev, who had been silent until then, suddenly joined the conversation, "Where are you going to live there? Under a bridge?"
"Why under a bridge?" Saltykov asked offended.
"Do you have other options? Are you aware how much it costs to rent a place there? You'll end up broke!" Dima sneered, “And what kind of business are you going to do there without a residence permit? Shit carting?"
"Why shit carting? You, Negodyaev, tend to complicate everything, you sound like no action is worth taking, and it's best of all to just sit on your ass for the rest of your life."
"And you talk such bullshit that I'm gonna throw up", Dima snapped at him, "That's enough, I'm going home, I can't digest your nonsense anymore."
He coldly said goodbye to his friends, shook hands with them and, raising his collar and shoving his hands in his pockets, walked at a brisk pace towards the center.
"He's a bit too nervous,” Mochalych chuckled, watching him go, ”He's not permitted to the state exams, so he's freaking out..."
"Fuck him,” Saltykov said, absorbed in deep thought.
A muddy car drove past, spraying the guys with dirty snow from under its wheels. Swearing, Pavlya bounced off the edge of the sidewalk, and began fussily rubbing his jeans.
Saltykov, immersed in his own thoughts, didn't even notice it.