Taras Bulba

Taras Bulba es una novela histórica romántica de Nikolai Gogol. Describe la vida de un viejo cosaco y sus dos hijos. Los hijos estudian en la Academia de Kiev y luego regresan a casa, después de lo cual los tres hombres emprenden un viaje a Zaporizhian Sich (el cuartel general de los cosacos de Zaporizhian, ubicado en el sur de Ucrania), donde se unen a otros cosacos y van a la guerra contra Polonia.

Fue publicada inicialmente en 1835 como parte de una colección de cuentos.

En vocabulario investigamos gabbler y petting

 

Y padre e hijo, en lugar de un saludo agradable después de una larga separación, comenzaron a darse fuertes golpes en las costillas…

"Los niños han vuelto a casa, no los hemos visto en más de un año, y ahora se ha apoderado de un fenómeno extraño, los está golpeando"…

 

Taras Bulba

… "Stand still, stand still! let me have a good look at you," he continued, turning them around. "How long your gaberdines are! What gaberdines! There never were such gaberdines in the world before. Just run, one of you! I want to see whether you will not get entangled in the skirts, and fall down."

"Don't laugh, don't laugh, father!" said the eldest lad at length.

"How touchy we are! Why shouldn't I laugh?"

"Because, although you are my father, if you laugh, by heavens, I will strike you!"

"What kind of son are you? what, strike your father!" exclaimed Taras Bulba, retreating several paces in amazement.

"Yes, even my father. I don't stop to consider persons when an insult is in question."

"So you want to fight me? with your fist, eh?"

"Any way."

"Well, let it be boxing," said Taras Bulba, turning up his sleeves. "I'll see what sort of a man you are with your fists."

And father and son, instead of a pleasant greeting after long separation, began to give each other heavy blows on ribs, back, and chest, now retreating and looking at each other, now attacking afresh.

"Look, good people! the old man has gone mad! he has lost his senses completely!" screamed their pale, ugly, kindly mother, who was standing on the threshold, and had not yet succeeded in embracing her darling children. "The children have come home, we have not seen them for over a year; and now he has taken some strange freak—he's hitting them."

"Yes, he fights well," said Bulba, pausing; "well, by heavens!" he continued, rather as if excusing himself, "although he has never tried his hand at it before, he will make a good Cossack! Now, welcome, son! embrace me," and father and son began to kiss each other. "Good lad! see that you hit every one as you pommelled me; don't let any one escape. Nevertheless your clothes are ridiculous all the same. What rope is this hanging there?—And you, you idiot, why are you standing there with your hands hanging beside you?" he added, turning to the youngest. "Why don't you fight me? you son of a dog!"

"What an idea!" said the mother, who had managed in the meantime to embrace her youngest. "Who ever heard of children fighting their own father? That's enough for the present; the child is young, he has had a long journey, he is tired." The child was over twenty, and about six feet high. "He ought to rest, and eat something; and you set him to fighting!"

 

Y padre e hijo, en lugar de un saludo agradable después de una larga separación, comenzaron a darse fuertes golpes en las costillas, la espalda y el pecho, ya retrocediendo y mirándose, ya atacando de nuevo.

"¡Miren, buena gente! ¡El viejo se ha vuelto loco! ¡Ha perdido completamente el sentido!" gritó su pálida, fea y amable madre, que estaba de pie en el umbral y aún no había logrado abrazar a sus queridos hijos. "Los niños han vuelto a casa, no los hemos visto en más de un año, y ahora se ha apoderado de un fenómeno extraño, los está golpeando".

"Sí, pelea bien", dijo Bulba, haciendo una pausa; "¡Bueno, por los cielos!" prosiguió, como si se disculpara, "aunque nunca antes lo haya probado, ¡será un buen cosaco! Ahora, ¡bienvenido, hijo! Abrázame", y padre e hijo comenzaron a besarse. "¡Buen muchacho! Golpea a todos como me golpeaste; no dejes escapar a nadie. Sin embargo, tu ropa es ridícula. ¿Qué cuerda es esta que cuelga allí?—Y tú, idiota, ¿por qué estás parado allí con las manos colgando a tu lado?" añadió, volviéndose hacia el más joven. "¿Por qué no peleas conmigo? ¡Hijo de perro!"

"¡Qué idea!" dijo la madre, que mientras tanto había logrado abrazar a su hijo menor. "¿Quién ha oído hablar de niños que luchan contra su propio padre? Es suficiente por el momento; el niño es pequeño, ha tenido un largo viaje, está cansado". El niño tenía más de veinte años y cerca de seis pies de alto. Debería descansar y comer algo, ¡y tú lo pusiste a pelear!

 

"You are a gabbler!" said Bulba. "Don't listen to your mother, my lad; she is a woman, and knows nothing. What sort of petting do you need? A clear field and a good horse, that's the kind of petting for you! And do you see this sword? that's your mother! All the rest people stuff your heads with is rubbish; the academy, books, primers, philosophy, and all that, I spit upon it all!" Here Bulba added a word which is not used in print. "But I'll tell you what is best: I'll take you to Zaporozhe this very week. That's where there's science for you! There's your school; there alone will you gain sense."

"And are they only to remain home a week?" said the worn old mother sadly and with tears in her eyes. "The poor boys will have no chance of looking around, no chance of getting acquainted with the home where they were born; there will be no chance for me to get a look at them."… (from Taras Bulba, by Nikolai Gogol. Version adapted in easier English from the translation from the Russian.)

 

Vocabulario

Gabbler: a person who talks constantly.

I was a real gabbler who never let you get a word in edgewise.

Petting: touching in a tender or loving manner.

A cat who loves to be petted.

 

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