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Yo komonte kom elefan bai
Hills Like White Elephants
Be Ernest Hemingway
By Hernest Hemingway
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 kom elefan bai
Yo komonte tras vadi de Ebro li xi lon va bai. Ni si byen no ha no inin va no arbol, va estasion xi inter do linya de rel su sol. Ni karibe byen de estasion ha inin garam de kostruin, va korten, fabi de korde de bisu bambu, aliki tras dor abribi de bar, gi tu preveni muxa. Jen emeriki va yuona gen ya side ni mesa ni inin, estra kostruin. Xi garam garam va tren sari de Barcelona ga lai pos katredes minut. It tinji ni si kombineria por do minut va 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?” yuona ven. Ya li finu cvan topi va veka 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 xvo.
“It’s pretty hot,” the man said.
“Nas du nomu bir.”
“Let’s drink beer.”
“Dos cervezas,” man xvo ni korten.
“Dos cervezas,” the man said into the curtain.
“Yan gran ka?” ona ven de dor.
“Big ones?” a woman asked from the doorway.
“Xi. Do yan gran.”
“Yes. Two big ones.”
Ona leta do glas de bir va do mat glas de felte. Ya veka mat de felte va glas bir ni mesa, va miru man va yuona. Yuona sai miru linya de komonte. Le xi bai su sol, va dehat xi buni va 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”, yuona xvo.
“They look like white elephants,” she said.
“Mi no tem no li miru yan,” man nomu yas bir.
“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 xvo. “Ku sola por to ti xvo to mi no li ba miru, no pruva no xos.”
“I might have,” the man said. “Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.”
Yuona miru korten de bisu. “Le li pentoda aru xos ni it,” ya xvo. “It xvo 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. Ona 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 vata ka?”
“With water?”
“Ti yau it gen vata ka?”
“Do you want it with water?”
“Mi no jixi,” yuona xvo. “It hau gen vata ka?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “Is it good with water?”
“It oke.”
“It’s all right.”
“Ti yau le gen vata ka?” ona ven.
“You want them with water?” asked the woman.
“Xi, gen vata.”
“Yes, with water.”
“It tamha kom glisiris,” yuona xvo va veka glas ni mesa.
“It tastes like licorice,” the girl said and put the glass down.
“Xi kom ta gi ol xos.”
“That’s the way with everything.”
“Xi,” yuona xvo. “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,” yuona xvo. “Mi li bi enterten. Mi li ha tem kvaliti.”
“You started it,” the girl said. “I was being amused. I was having a fine time.”
“Hau, nas du proba tu ha tem kvaliti.”
“Well, let’s try and have a fine time.”
“Oke. Mi li proba. Mi li xvo 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 ke nas fa, no ka — miru xos va 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.”
Yuona miru trastras yo komonte.
The girl looked across at the hills.
“Le xi komonte inda,” ya xvo. “Le no xyende ku real elefan bai. Mi li manan ku sola kolor de les pifu, 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 cvi korten de bisu ni troga mesa.
The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.
“Bir plesiri va kobaridi,” man xvo.
“The beer’s nice and cool,” the man said.
“It amaval,” yuona xvo.
“It’s lovely,” the girl said.
“It xi ku real opere ingi ingi simple, Jig,” man xvo. “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.”
Yuona miru ardi ni ke tvi 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 hava tu entre.”
“I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.”
Yuona no xvo no xos.
The girl did not say anything.
“Mi ga go gen ti va mi ga reste gen ti ol tem. Le permit ku sola hava tu entre va 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 ke rasdraji nas. It xi xos sola ke fa nehapi o nas.”
“That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.”
Yuona miru korten de bisu, etende mano, va 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.
“Va ti fikir to ta tem nas ga xi oke va hapi.”
“And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.”
“Mi jixi to nas ga xi. Ti no nidu 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,” yuona xvo. “Va pospos, ol de le li xi ingi hapi.”
“So have I,” said the girl. “And afterwards they were all so happy.”
“Hau,” man xvo, “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.”
“Va 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.”
“Va se mi fa it, ti ga xi hapi, va yo xos ga xi kom le li xi, va 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 xvo to yo xos xi kom elefan bai, va 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 ban 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 ansios ka?”
“If I do it you won’t ever worry?”
“Mi no ga 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. Va mi ga fa it va 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.”
Yuona kaixu janli va maxa a fin de estasion. Trastras, ni otra byen, ha yo xamba de gren va yo arbol ni segi yo kosta de Ebro. Ingi distansi, ultra rika, ha yo monte. Inin de avan muve trastras xamba de gren va yuona miru rika tras yo arbol.
The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees.
“Va nas ba bisa ha ol de si,” ya xvo. “Va nas ba bisa ha ol xos, va kada den nas fa mas nemumkin o it.”
“And we could have all this,” she said. “And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.”
“Ti xvo ke?”
“What did you say?”
“Mi xvo to nas ba bisa ha ol xos.”
“I said we could have everything.”
“Nas bisa ha ol xos.”
“We can have everything.”
“No, nas no bisa.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Nas bisa ha ol de dunya.”
“We can have the whole world.”
“No, nas no bisa.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Nas bisa go ol ples.”
“We can go everywhere.”
“No, nas no bisa. It no xi mo nasi.”
“No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.”
“It xi nasi.”
“It’s ours.”
“No, it no. Va pospos le toma it otra ples, on no tem no otene vapas it.”
“No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.”
“Bal le no li toma it otra ples.”
“But they haven’t taken it away.”
“Nas ga intasar va miru.”
“We’ll wait and see.”
“Du lai vapas ni inin,” man xvo. “Ti no debe sente kom ta.”
“Come on back in the shade,” he said. “You mustn’t feel that way.”
“Mi no sente kom no xos,” yuona xvo. “Mi jixi ku sola it.”
“I don’t feel any way,” the girl said. “I just know things.”
“Mi no yau ti tu fa no xos ke ti no yau tu fa—”
“I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do—”
“Nor xos ke no hau gi mi,” yuona xvo. “Mi jixi. Nas ba bisa toma otra bir ka?”
“Nor that isn’t good for me,” she said. “I know. Could we have another beer?”
“Oke. Bal ti nidu ban jixina —”
“All right. But you’ve got to realize—”
“Mi jixina,” yuona xvo. “Nas bisa rubama finu xvo ka?”
“I realize,” the girl said. “Can’t we maybe stop talking?”
Le kaixu side ni mesa, va yuona miru trastras yo komonte ni byen suka de vadi, va man miru ya va mesa.
They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table.
“Ti nidu komprende,” man xvo, “to mi no yau ti tu fa it se ti no yau. Mi ol ba yau tu fa it se it manan eni xos a ti.”
“You’ve got to realize,” he said, “that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.”
“It no manan no xos a ti? Nas ba bisa fa oke.”
“Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.”
“Ku naturi it manan. Bal mi no yau no jen ila ti. Mi no yau no otra jen. Va mi jixi it ingi ingi simple.”
“Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want any one else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.”
“Xi, ti jixi it ingi ingi simple.”
“Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.”
“Xi oke se ti yau xvo ta, bal mi jixi.”
“It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.”
“Ti bisa fa aru xos gi mi si tem?”
“Would you do something for me now?”
“Mi ba fa eni xos gi ti.”
“I’d do anything for you.”
“Ti bisa ku jenti ku jenti ku jenti ku jenti finu xvo?”
“Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?”
Man no xvo no xos bal miru yo bagu ni troga mur de estasion. Ha yo etiket ni le de ol hotel ke ples man va yuona li suimin.
He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights.
“Bal mi no yau ti tu fa,” man xvo. “Mi ol no bi interes an it.”
“But I don’t want you to,” he said, “I don’t care anything about it.”
“Mi ga krica,” yuona xvo.
“I’ll scream,” the girl said.
Ona saru tras korten gen do glas de bir va veka le ni koxime mat glas de felte. “Tren lai pos tano minut,” ya xvo.
The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. “The train comes in five minutes,” she said.
“Ya xvo ke?” yuona ven.
“What did she say?” asked the girl.
“To tren lai pos tano minut.”
“That the train is coming in five minutes.”
Yuona koxyau ku nuri a ona, gi tu xukur ya.
The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her.
“Mi ba debe toma bagu a otra byen de estasion,” man xvo. Yuona koxyau a ya.
“I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,” the man said. She smiled at him.
“Oke. Kixa du lai vapas va nas ga fin bir.”
“All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.”
Man natmuve do bagu berat va beba le ni seronde estasion a otra doro rel. Ya miru doro rel bal no bisa miru tren. Laina vapas, ya maxa tras kamar bar, ke ples yo jen to intasar tren nomu. Ya nomu Anis ni bar va miru yo jen. Le intasar ku rasoni o tren . Ya saru tras korten de bisu. Yuona sai side ni mesa va koxyau a ya.
He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. Coming back, he walked through the barroom, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him.
“Ti sente ku mas hau?” man ven.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Mi sente ku oke,” yuona xvo. “No ha no xos bura. Mi sente ku oke.”
“I feel fine,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”
—1927