| I could not bear this song, and when my uncle came to the part about the beggars I used to weep in a tempest of ungovernable misery. | Я не выносил этой песни и, когда дядя запевал о нищих, буйно плакал в невыносимой тоске. |
| The music had the same effect on Tsiganok as on the others; he listened to it, running his fingers through his black, shaggy locks, and staring into a corner, half-asleep. | Цыганок слушал музыку с тем же вниманием, как все, запустив пальцы в свои чёрные космы, глядя в угол и посапывая. |
| Sometimes he would exclaim unexpectedly in a complaining tone, | Иногда он неожиданно и жалобно восклицал: |
| "Ah! if I only had a voice. Lord! how I should sing." | - Эх, кабы голос мне, - пел бы я как, господи! |
| And grandmother, with a sigh, would say: | Бабушка, вздыхая, говорила: |
| "Are you going to break our hearts, Jaasha? . . . | - Будет тебе, Яша, сердце надрывать! |
| Suppose you give us a dance, Vanyatka?" | А ты бы, Ванятка, поплясал... |
| Her request was not always complied with at once, but it did sometimes happen that the musician suddenly swept the chords with his hands, then, doubling up his fists with a gesture as if he were noiselessly casting an invisible something from him to the floor, cried sharply: | Они не всегда исполняли просьбу её сразу, но бывало, что музыкант вдруг на секунду прижимал струны ладонью, а потом, сжав кулак, с силою отбрасывал от себя на пол что- тоневидимое, беззвучное и ухарски кричал: |
| "Away, melancholy! | - Прочь, грусть-тоска! |
| Now, Vanka, stand up!" | Ванька, становись! |
| Looking very smart, as he pulled his yellow blouse straight, Tsiganok would advance to the middle of the kitchen, very carefully, as if he were walking on nails, and blushing all over his swarthy face and simpering bashfully, would say entreatingly: | Охорашиваясь, одёргивая жёлтую рубаху, Цыганок осторожно, точно по гвоздям шагая, выходил на середину кухни; его смуглые щёки краснели и, сконфуженно улыбаясь, он просил: |
| "Faster, please, Jaakov Vassilitch!" | - Только почаще, Яков Васильич! |
| The guitar jingled furiously, heels tapped spasmodically on the floor, plates and dishes rattled on the table and in the cupboard, while Tsiganok blazed amidst the kitchen lights, swooping like a kite, waving his arms like the sails of a windmill, and moving his feet so quickly that they seemed to be stationary; then he stooped to the floor, and spun round and round like a golden swallow, the splendor of his silk blouse shedding an illumination all around, as it quivered and rippled, as if he were alight and floating in the air. |
