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Yo komonte kom elefan bai
Hills Like White Elephants
Hills Like White Elephants is a short story by the American writer Ernest Hemingway, first published in 1927. It focuses on a conversation between a man and a young woman, waiting at a Spanish train station for a train to Madrid. The story is known for using a third person objective point of view and is an example of Hemingway’s iceberg theory. It was translated by pluntert, with the help of ChristianSi.
Yo komonte tras wadi de Ebro li xi lon wa bai. Ni si byen no ha no inin wa no arbol, wa estasion xi inter do linya de rel su sol. Ni karibe byen de estasion ha inin garam de kostruin, wa korten, fabi de korde de bisu bambu, aliki tras dor abribi de bar, gi tu prebeni muxa. Jen emeriki wa yuwanita gen ya side ni mesa ni inin, estra kostruin. Xi garam garam wa tren sari de Barcelona ga lai pos katredes minut. It tinji ni si kombineria por do minut wa kontinu a Madrid.
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went on to Madrid.
“Ke nas ba debe nomu?” yuwanita wen. Ya li finu cwan topi wa weka it ni mesa.
“What should we drink?” the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.
“Xi xye garam,” man xwo.
“It’s pretty hot,” the man said.
“Nas du nomu bir.”
“Let’s drink beer.”
“Dos cervezas,” man xwo ni korten.
“Dos cervezas,” the man said into the curtain.
“Yan gran ka?” wanita wen de dor.
“Big ones?” a woman asked from the doorway.
“Xi. Do yan gran.”
“Yes. Two big ones.”
Wanita leta do glas de bir wa do mat glas de felte. Ya weka mat de felte wa glas bir ni mesa, wa miru man wa yuwanita. Yuwanita sai miru linya de komonte. Le xi bai su sol, wa dehat xi buni wa suka.
The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glasses on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.
“Le xyende elefan bai”, yuwanita xwo.
“They look like white elephants,” she said.
“Mi no tem no li miru yan,” man nomu bir ya.
“I’ve never seen one,” the man drank his beer.
“No, ti no li ba miru.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
“Rubama mi li ba miru,” man xwo. “Ku sola por to ti xwo to mi no li ba miru, no pruba no xos.”
“I might have,” the man said. “Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.”
Yuwanita miru korten de bisu. “Le li pentoda aru xos ni it,” ya xwo. “It xwo ke?”
The girl looked at the bead curtain. “They’ve painted something on it,” she said. “What does it say?”
“Anis del Toro. It xi nomin.”
“Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.”
“Nas ba bisa proba ka?”
“Could we try it?”
Man ita “Du sun” ni korten. Wanita lai de bar.
The man called “Listen” through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar.
“Katre reales.”
“Four reales.”
“Nas yau do Anis del Toro.”
“We want two Anis del Toro.”
“Gen wata ka?”
“With water?”
“Ti yau it gen wata ka?”
“Do you want it with water?”
“Mi no jixi,” yuwanita xwo. “It hau gen wata ka?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “Is it good with water?”
“It oke.”
“It’s all right.”
“Ti yau le gen wata ka?” wanita wen.
“You want them with water?” asked the woman.
“Xi, gen wata.”
“Yes, with water.”
“It tamha kom glisiris,” yuwanita xwo wa weka glas ni mesa.
“It tastes like licorice,” the girl said and put the glass down.
“It xi kom ta gi ol xos.”
“That’s the way with everything.”
“Xi,” yuwanita xwo. “Ol xos tamha kom glisiris. Ku espesial ol xos o ke ti li intasar tan ku lon, kom asinte.”
“Yes,” said the girl. “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.”
“Oi, du tinji.”
“Oh, cut it out.”
“Ti li kaixi it,” yuwanita xwo. “Mi li bi enterten. Mi li ha tem kwaliti.”
“You started it,” the girl said. “I was being amused. I was having a fine time.”
“Hau, nas du proba tu ha tem kwaliti.”
“Well, let’s try and have a fine time.”
“Oke. Mi li proba. Mi li xwo to monte xyende elefan bai. Ta li xi hapi ka?”
“All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?”
“Ta li xi hapi.”
“That was bright.”
“Mi li yau tu proba si nomin. Ta xi ol to nas fa, no ka — miru xos wa proba nomin naya?”
“I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it — look at things and try new drinks?”
“Mi supos.”
“I guess so.”
Yuwanita miru trastras o komonte.
The girl looked across at the hills.
“Le xi komonte inda,” ya xwo. “Le no xyende ku real elefan bai. Mi li manan ku sola kolor de pifu le, tras yo arbol.”
“They’re lovely hills,” she said. “They don’t really look like white elephants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees.”
“Nas ba debe toma otra nomin ka?”
“Should we have another drink?”
“Oke.”
“All right.”
Fen garam cwi korten de bisu ni troga mesa.
The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.
“Bir xi plesiri wa kobaridi,” man xwo.
“The beer’s nice and cool,” the man said.
“It amabal,” yuwanita xwo.
“It’s lovely,” the girl said.
“It xi ku real opere ingi ingi simple, Jig,” man xwo. “It ol no ku real opere.”
“It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,” the man said. “It’s not really an operation at all.”
Yuwanita miru ardi ni ke twi de mesa janli.
The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.
“Mi jixi to ti no ba bi rasdraji be it, Jig. It no xos ku real. It ga permit ku sola hawa tu entre.”
“I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.”
Yuwanita no xwo no xos.
The girl did not say anything.
“Mi ga go gen ti wa mi ga reste gen ti ol tem. Le permit ku sola hawa tu entre wa kixa ol xos xi ol naturi.”
“I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.”
“Ta tem nas ga fa ke xos pospos?”
“Then what will we do afterward?”
“Nas ga xi oke pospos. Ku esata kom nas li xi prepre.”
“We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.”
“Por ke ti fikir ta?”
“What makes you think so?”
“Ta xi xos sola to rasdraji nas. It xi xos sola to fa nehapi o nas.”
“That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.”
Yuwanita miru korten de bisu, etende mano, wa pakar do korde de bisu.
The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads.
“Wa ti fikir to ta tem nas ga xi oke wa hapi.”
“And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.”
“Mi jixi to nas ga xi. Ti no nide tu hafana. Mi jixi ingi jen ke li fa it.”
“I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people that have done it.”
“Mi pia,” yuwanita xwo. “Wa pospos, ol de le li xi ingi hapi.”
“So have I,” said the girl. “And afterwards they were all so happy.”
“Hau,” man xwo, “se ti no yau, ti no debe. Mi no ba forsa ti se ti no yau. Bal mi jixi to it xi ingi ingi simple.”
“Well,” the man said, “if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.”
“Wa ti yau ku sahi ka?”
“And you really want to?”
“Mi jixi to tu fa it xi xos ol mas hau. Bal mi no yau ti tu fa it se ti no yau ku sahi.”
“I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to.”
“Wa se mi fa it, ti ga xi hapi, wa yo xos ga xi kom le li xi, wa ti ga ama mi ka?”
“And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and you’ll love me?”
“Mi ama ti si tem. Ti jixi to mi ama ti.”
“I love you now. You know I love you.”
“Mi jixi. Bal se mi fa it, it ga xi plesiri tena se mi xwo to yo xos xi kom elefan bai, wa ti ga suki it ka?”
“I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?”
“Mi ga ama it. Mi ama it si tem, bal mi no bisa ku sola fikir an it. Ti jixi kese mi xi ke tem mi ansios.”
“I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how I get when I worry.”
“Se mi fa it, ti no tem no ga xi ansios ka?”
“If I do it you won’t ever worry?”
“Mi no ga xi ansios an ta, por to it xi ingi ingi simple.”
“I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.”
“Ta tem mi ga fa it. Por to mi no bi interes an mi.”
“Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.”
“Ti manan ke?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mi no bi interes an mi.”
“I don’t care about me.”
“Hau, mi bi interes an ti.”
“Well, I care about you.”
“Oi, xi. Bal mi no bi interes an mi. Wa mi ga fa it wa kixa ol xos ga xi oke.”
“Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything will be fine.”
“Mi no yau ti tu fa it se ti sente kom ta.”
“I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.”
[More to be translated soon]