فرم همکاری با ما - سوالات مترجمی

نام

نام خانوادگی

شماره تماس

ایمیل

لطفا متون زير را به فارسی ترجمه کنيد.

1. I know a colleague who believes that only by speaking to a real footballer can you access truths about the game. This man is forever texting players, and saying things like, ‘If you speak to Franz Beckenbauer, he’ll tell you that . . .’. I reject that idea. I do believe that you can access truths about the game by speaking to Arsène Wenger, if he feels like telling you. I don’t believe you can access them by speaking to Wayne Rooney.

2. The Black Forest isn’t black. It’s not even a forest. Not anymore. Eighteen hundred years ago, the wild Germanic tribes of the Alemanni first tore through the massed gloom that had so scared the Romans, to make space for cattle and villages. Celtic missionaries from Scotland and Ireland, armed with axes and faith, kept pushing inward until nature was bested, iniquity contained.

3. Looking back at a century that will be remembered for its willingness to break classical bonds, and looking ahead to an era that seeks to nurture the creativity needed for scientific innovation, one person stands out as a paramount icon of our age: the kindly refugee from oppression whose wild halo of hair, twinkling eyes, engaging humanity, and extraordinary brilliance made his face a symbol and his name a synonym for genius.

4. In my case, for example, I would never have supposed that a witty lexicographer with Tourette’s syndrome, a twentysomething tubercular saint, a hypocritical Russian novelist, and one of the Founding Fathers would be my most helpful guides—but so it happened.

5. One day, I’d stop twisting my hair, and wearing running shoes all the time, and eating exactly the same food every day. I’d remember my friends’ birthdays, I’d learn Photoshop, I wouldn’t let my daughter watch TV during breakfast. I’d read Shakespeare. I’d spend more time laughing and having fun, I’d be more polite, I’d visit museums more often, I wouldn’t be scared to drive.

6. Finny is wearing his seat belt. He is blameless. It is Sylvie who is not. When the impact occurs, she sails through the windshield and out into the night. All I can imagine is the moment afterward, the moment of her weightless suspension in the air, her arms flailing in slow motion, her hair, a bit bloody and now wet with rain, streaming behind her like a mermaid’s, her mouth a round O in a scream of panic, the dark wet night surrounding her in perfect silhouette. Sylvie is suddenly on Earth again. She hits the pavement with a loud smack and is knocked unconscious. She lies on the pavement, crumpled.

7. My father was—is—never around because of his work at The Office but Mother did not mind; she had Angelina. Angelina was pregnant from her lover. He was married and rich and far too old for her. He also refused to believe that it was his child. It would take a court-ordered DNA test a few weeks after Phineas’s birth to get his father to do the honorable thing—buy Aunt Angelina the house next door to my mother, and after writing each monthly check, pretend that she and the baby did not exist for the next thirty days.

8. When I asked Barbara to tell me what the Voice of Control, a voice fueled by fear, said about her disease, she let it all out. The voice told her that people would reject her for being a junkie, and that nobody would ever love her if they knew the truth. Worst of all, fear continuously fueled the devastation she felt at the thought that she might have transmitted the disease to her child.

9. Alexander laughed. “For what? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life. Unless you count the time you spiked Dirk Dennett’s Pepsi with Ex-Lax—and frankly, that kid was asking for it.”

10. Diana, my therapist, and I still laugh about my first visit. Diana started with the requisite, “So what’s going on?” I pulled out the Do list and matter-of-factly said, “I need more of the things on this list. Some specific tips and tools would be helpful. Nothing deep. No childhood crap or anything.”