Department of English

Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University

2202124  Introduction to Translation

 

 

Fiction (English-Thai) Discussion

The translations given on this page are neither comprehensive nor definitive. They are here to give you an idea of the range of possibilities and to spark discussion. Suggestions and comments are welcome.

 

จงแปลเรื่องแต่งต่อไปนี้เป็นภาษาไทย

 

Alan Austen, as nervous as a kitten, went up dark stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street, and looked about for a long time at the top before he found the name he wanted written unclearly on one of the doors.

He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do, and found himself in a small room, which contained no furniture but a simple kitchen table, a rocking-chair, and an ordinary chair. An old man sat in the rocking-chair, reading a newspaper. Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given.

"Sit down, Mr. Austen," said the old man very politely. "I am glad to meet you."

"Is it true," asked Alan, "that you have a mixture that has-er-quite extraordinary effects?"

"Here, for example," replied the old man, reaching for a bottle from the shelf. "Here is a liquid as colourless as water, almost tasteless, undiscoverable in coffee, wine, or any other drink. It is also very hard to discover in a dead body."

"Do you mean it is a poison?" cried Alan, very much horrified.




Translation 1

อลัน ออสเตนขึ้นบันไดมืดๆ ย่านถนนเพลล์ ประหม่าราวกับลูกนก  มองหาที่ชั้นบนอยู่นานกว่าจะพบชื่อที่ต้องการเขียนจางๆ หน้าประตูบานหนึ่ง

อลันผลักประตูเข้าไปตามที่ถูกสั่งมา เห็นเป็นห้องเล็กๆ ไม่มีเครื่องเรือนใดๆ นอกจากโต๊ะแบบที่ใช้ในครัวเรียบๆ ตัวหนึ่ง เก้าอี้โยก และเก้าอี้ธรรมดา  ชายชราผู้หนึ่งนั่งเก้าอี้โยกอยู่ กำลังอ่านหนังสือพิมพ์  อลันไม่พูดไม่จายื่นบัตรที่ได้มาส่งให้

"เชิญนั่งครับ คุณออสเตน" ชายชราเอ่ยอย่างสุภาพนัก "ยินดีที่ได้รู้จักครับ"

"จริงหรือครับที่ว่า" อลันถาม "คุณมียาที่ เอ้อ มีสรรพคุณพิเศษ"

"ดูนี่ เป็นตัวอย่าง" ชายชราตอบพลางเอื้อมหยิบขวดใบหนึ่งจากชั้น "น้ำนี่ใสไม่มีสีอย่างกับน้ำเปล่า  รสชาติก็แทบไม่มี  ตรวจไม่พบแม้ในกาแฟ ไวน์ หรือเครื่องดื่มอื่นใด  และยังตรวจพบในศพได้ยากมากอีกด้วย"

"ก็เป็นยาพิษน่ะหรือครับ" อลันร้องอย่างสยองเหลือเกิน

 


Translation 2

อลัน ออสเตน ตื่นเต้นอย่างกับลูกนก เดินขึ้นบันไดมืดๆ ในละแวกถนนเพลล์ และมองหาอยู่นานที่ชั้นบนกว่าจะเจอชื่อที่ต้องการเขียนไว้รางๆ บนประตูบานหนึ่ง

เขาเปิดประตูนี้ อย่างที่มีคนบอกให้ทำ แล้วเดินเข้าไปในห้องเล็กๆ ซึ่งไม่มีเฟอร์นิเจอร์อื่นนอกจากโต๊ะธรรมดาๆ ที่ใช้ในห้องครัว เก้าอี้โยก และเก้าอี้ธรรมดาๆ ชายชราคนหนึ่งนั่งอยู่บนเก้าอี้โยกนั้น อ่านหนังสือพิมพ์  อลันไม่พูดอะไรยื่นนามบัตรที่มีคนให้มาให้เขา

“เชิญนั่งครับ คุณออสเตน” ชายชราพูดด้วยความสุภาพอย่างยิ่ง “ผมดีใจที่ได้พบคุณ”

“จริงหรือ” อลันถาม “ที่คุณมีส่วนผสมที่มี...เอ้อ...ฤทธิ์ค่อนข้างพิเศษ”

“นี่ครับตัวอย่าง” ชายชราตอบพลางเอื้อมไปหยิบขวดบนชั้น “นี่เป็นของเหลวไร้สีเหมือนน้ำ แทบจะไม่มีรส ใส่ในกาแฟ ไวน้ หรือเครื่องดื่มอื่นใด จะไม่มีใครพบ ในศพก็พบยากมากเช่นกัน”

“หมายความว่ามันเป็นยาพิษใช่ไหม” อลันร้องออกมารู้สึกสยดสยองมาก

 

 


Reference


 

Discussion


- Alan Austen

- as nervous as a kitten

- dark stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street

- He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do

- and found himself in a small room,

- Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given.

- "Sit down, Mr. Austen," said the old man very politely.

- you have a mixture that has-er-quite extraordinary effects?

- "Here, for example," replied the old man,

- undiscoverable in coffee

- also very hard to discover in a dead body


- Do you mean it is a poison?


- cried Alan, very much horrified




Vocabulary

- nervous as a kitten - very nervous
- neighborhood
- look about - to look for something, trying to find something
- at the top
- on the door
- find oneself in
- simple - เรียบ ง่าย ธรรมดาๆ
- kitchen table
- rocking chair - เก้าอี้โยก
- ordinary
- without a word
- card
- mixture (n.)
- er
- extraordinary
- effect
- horrified



Reference


Links


Source

 

John Collier's short story "The Chaser" (1940)



    Alan Austen, as nervous as a kitten, went up certain dark and creaky stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street, and peered about for a long time on the dime landing before he found the name he wanted written obscurely on one of the doors.
    He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do, and found himself in a tiny room, which contained no furniture but a plain kitchen table, a rocking-chair, and an ordinary chair. On one of the dirty buff-coloured walls were a couple of shelves, containing in all perhaps a dozen bottles and jars. An old man sat in the rocking-chair, reading a newspaper. Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given.
    “Sit down, Mr. Austen,” said the old man very politely.
    “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
    “Is it true,” asked Alan, “that you have a certain mixture that has-er-quite extraordinary effects?”
    “My dear sir,” replied the old man, “my stock in trade is not very large—I don’t deal in laxatives and teething mixtures—but such as it is, it is varied. I think nothing I sell has effects which could be precisely described as ordinary.”
    “Well, the fact is. . .” began Alan.
    “Here, for example,” interrupted the old man, reaching for a bottle from the shelf. “Here is a liquid as colourless as water, almost tasteless, quite imperceptible in coffee, wine, or any other beverage. It is also quite imperceptible to any known method of autopsy.”
    “Do you mean it is a poison?” cried Alan, very much horrified.
    “Call it a glove-cleaner if you like,” said the old man indifferently. “Maybe it will clean gloves. I have never tried. One might call it a life-cleaner. Lives need cleaning sometimes.”
    “I want nothing of that sort,” said Alan.
    “Probably it is just as well,” said the old man. “Do you know the price of this? For one teaspoonful, which is sufficient, I ask five thousand dollars. Never less. Not a penny less.”
    “I hope all your mixtures are not as expensive,” said Alan apprehensively.
    “Oh dear, no,” said the old man. “It would be no good charging that sort of price for a love potion, for example. Young people who need a love potion very seldom have five thousand dollars. Otherwise they would not need a love potion.”
    “I am glad to hear that,” said Alan.
    “I look at it like this,” said the old man. “Please a customer with one article, and he will come back when he needs another. Even if it is more costly. He will save up for it, if necessary.”
    “So,” said Alan, “you really do sell love potions?”
    “If I did not sell love potions,” said the old man, reaching for another bottle, “I should not have mentioned the other matter to you. It is only when one is in a position to oblige that one can afford to be so confidential.”
    “And these potions,” said Alan. “They are not just-just-er—“
    “Oh, no,” said the old man. “Their effects are permanent, and extend far beyond the mere casual impulse. But they include it. Oh, yes they include it. Bountifully, insistently. Everlastingly.”
    “Dear me!” said Alan, attempting a look of scientific detachment. “How very interesting!”
    “But consider the spiritual side,” said the old man.
    “I do, indeed,” said Alan.
    “For indifference,” said the old man, “they substitute devotion. For scorn, adoration. Give one tiny measure of this to the young lady—its flavour is imperceptible in orange juice, soup, or cocktails—and however gay and giddy she is, she will change altogether. She will want nothing but solitude and you.”
    “I can hardly believe it,” said Alan. “She is so fond of parties.”
    “She will not like them any more,” said the old man. “She will be afraid of the pretty girls you may meet.”
    “She will actually be jealous?” cried Alan in a rapture. “Of me?”
    “Yes, she will want to be everything to you.”
    “She is, already. Only she doesn’t care about it.”
    “She will, when she has taken this. She will care intensely. You will be her sole interest in life.”
    “Wonderful!” cried Alan.
    “She will want to know all you do,” said the old man. “All that has happened to you during the day. Every word of it. She will want to know what you are thinking about, why you smile suddenly, why you are looking sad.”
    “That is love!” cried Alan.
    “Yes,” said the old man. “How carefully she will look after you! She will never allow you to be tired, to sit in a draught, to neglect your food. If you are an hour late, she will be terrified. She will think you are killed, or that some siren has caught you.”
    “I can hardly imagine Diana like that!” cried Alan, overwhelmed with joy.
    “You will not have to use your imagination,” said the old man. “And, by the way, since there are always sirens, if by any chance you should, later on, slip a little, you need not worry. She will forgive you, in the end. She will be terribly hurt, of course, but she will forgive you—in the end.”
    “That will not happen,” said Alan fervently.
    “Of course not,” said the old man. “But, if it did, you need not worry. She would never divorce you. Oh, no! And, of course, she will never give you the least, the very least, grounds for uneasiness.”
    “And how much,” said Alan, “is this wonderful mixture?”
    “It is not as dear,” said the old man, “as the glove-cleaner, or life-cleaner, as I sometimes call it. No. That is five thousand dollars, never a penny less. One has to be older than you are, to indulge in that sort of thing. One has to save up for it.”
    “But the love potion?” said Alan.
    “Oh, that,” said the old man, opening the drawer in the kitchen table, and taking out a tiny, rather dirty-looking phial. “That is just a dollar.”
    “I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” said Alan, watching him fill it.
    “I like to oblige,” said the old man. “Then customers come back, later in life, when they are better off, and want more expensive things. Here you are. You will find it very effective.”
    “Thank you again,” said Alan. “Good-bye.”
    “Au revoir,” said the man.

--originally published in The New Yorker 28 December 1940, p. 14.




 

Home  |  Introduction to Translation  |  Translation Resources  

Last updated April 8, 2015