Translation Practice: Translating The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs: Part II.

Disc! The translations works are from college assignments

ENG to IND translation

ENG (SL)

In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their dead, and came back to the house steeped in shadows and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realise it, and remained in a state of expectation — as though of something else to happen — something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear.

But the days passed, and expectation gave way to resignation — the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.

It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.

“Come back,” he said tenderly. “You will be cold.” “It is colder for my son,” said the old woman, and wept afresh. The sounds of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.

“THE PAW!” she cried wildly. “THE MONKEY’S PAW!” He started up in alarm. “Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?” She came stumbling across the room toward him. “I want it,” she said quietly. “You’ve not destroyed it?”

“It’s in the parlour, on the bracket,” he replied, marvelling. “Why?” She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek. “I only just thought of it,” she said hysterically. “Why didn’t I think of it before? Why didn’t you think of it?”

“Think of what?” he questioned. “The other two wishes,” she replied rapidly. “We’ve only had one.” “Was not that enough?” he demanded fiercely. “No,” she cried triumphantly; “we’ll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again.”

The man sat in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. “Good God, you are mad!” he cried aghast. “Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly, and wish — oh, my boy, my boy!” Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. “Get back to bed,” he said unsteadily. “You don’t know what you are saying.”

“We had the first wish granted,” said the old woman, feverishly; “why not the second?” “A coincidence,” stammered the old man. “Go, get it, and wish,” cried his wife, quivering with excitement.

The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook. “He has been dead ten days, and besides he — I would not tell you else, but — I could only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?”

“Bring him back,” cried the old woman, and dragged him towards the door. “Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?” He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then to the mantelpiece.

The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost the direction of the door.

His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall until he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his hand. Even his wife’s face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it. He was afraid of her.

“WISH!” she cried in a strong voice. “It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered. “WISH!” repeated his wife. He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive again.” The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully. Then he sank, trembling, into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the blind.

He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window. The candle-end, which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired.

The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him. Neither spoke, but sat silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall.

“The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle. At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another; and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.

The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage. He stood motionless, his breath suspended, until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house. “WHAT’S THAT?” cried the old woman, starting up. “A rat,” said the old man in shaking tones — “a rat. It passed me on the stairs.”

IND (TL)

Di pemakaman baru yang luas, sekitar dua mil jauhnya, para orang tua itu menguburkan jenazah orang yang mereka cintai, lalu kembali ke rumah yang diselimuti bayang-bayang dan kesunyian. Semuanya berlalu sangat cepat hingga pada awalnya pada awalnya mereka sulit mempercayainya. Mereka terus menunggu, seolah-olah ada sesuatu yang lain akan terjadi, sesuatu yang akan meringankan beban yang terlalu berat untuk ditanggung oleh hati mereka yang sudah tua.

Namun hari-hari berlalu, dan harapan berubah menjadi kepasrahan — kepasrahan yang putus asa dari orang tua, yang sering disalahartikan sebagai sikap tidak peduli. Kadang-kadang mereka hampir tidak berbicara sepatah kata pun, karena kini mereka tidak punya apa-apa untuk dibicarakan, dan hari-hari mereka terasa panjang dan membosankan.

Sekitar seminggu setelah kejadian itu, pria tua itu terbangun tiba-tiba di tengah malam, mengulurkan tangannya, dan menyadari dirinya sendirian di tempat tidurnya. Ruangan itu gelap, dan suara tangisan yang teredam terdengar dari jendela. Ia bangun dari tempat tidur dan mendengarkan.

“Kembalilah,” katanya dengan lembut. “Kamu akan kedinginan.” “Anakku yang lebih kedinginan,” kata wanita tua itu, dan menangis lagi. Suara isak tangisnya mereda di telinga sang suami. Tempat tidurnya terasa hangat, dan matanya berat karena kantuk. Ia sempat tertidur gelisah hingga tiba-tiba terbangun oleh teriakan keras istrinya yang mengagetkan.

“CAKARNYA!” teriaknya dengan panik. “CAKAR MONYET ITU!” Lelaki tua itu langsung bangun dengan terkejut. “Di mana? Di mana itu? Ada apa?” Wanita itu berjalan tergesa-gesa menghampirinya. “Aku menginginkannya,” katanya dengan tenang. “Kamu belum menghancurkannya?”

“Masih ada di ruang tamu, di rak dinding,” jawabnya, heran. “Kenapa?” Wanita itu menangis dan tertawa sekaligus, lalu membungkuk dan mencium pipi suaminya “Aku baru saja terpikir soal itu,” katanya dengan histeris. “Kenapa aku tidak terpikir sebelumnya? Kenapa kamu juga tidak terpikir?”

“Memikirkan apa?” tanya si Lelaki. “Dua keinginan lainnya,” jawab istrinya dengan cepat. “Kita baru punya satu.” “Bukannya itu sudah cukup?” tanyanya dengan nada keras. “Tidak!” balas wanita itu penuh semangat. “Kita masih punya satu kesempatan lagi. Cepat ambil cakarnya dan berharap agar anak kita hidup kembali.”

Lelaki itu duduk di tempat tidur dan menyingkirkan selimut dari tubuhnya yang gemetar. “Ya Tuhan, kamu gila!” serunya dengan ngeri. “Ambil itu,” kata istrinya terengah-engah. “Cepat ambil dan buat permintaan — oh, anakku, anakku!” Suaminya menyalakan korek api dan menyalakan lilin. “Kembali ke tempat tidur,” katanya dengan gemetar. “Kamu tidak tahu apa yang kamu katakan.”

“Keinginan pertama kita sudah terkabul,” kata wanita tua itu penuh semangat. “Jadi kenapa yang kedua tidak bisa?” “Itu hanya kebetulan,” jawab lelaki tua itu terbata-bata. “Pergilah, ambil cakarnya, dan buatlah keinginan,” seru istrinya, gemetar karena kegembiraan.

Pria tua itu berbalik dan menatap istrinya, suaranya bergetar. “Dia sudah meninggal selama sepuluh hari. Dan selain itu… aku tidak ingin mengatakannya, tetapi… aku hanya bisa mengenalinya dari pakaiannya. Jika saat itu kondisinya terlalu mengerikan untuk kaulihat, bagaimana sekarang?”

“Bawa dia kembali,” teriak wanita tua itu, dan menyeret suaminya ke arah pintu. “Kau pikir aku takut pada anak yang telah aku besarkan?” Lelaki itupun turun ke kegelapan, meraba-raba jalan ke ruang tamu, lalu ke ambang perapian tempat cakarnya berada.

Jimat itu masih berada di tempatnya. Tiba-tiba rasa takut yang mengerikan menguasainya. Ia membayangkan bahwa sebelum sempat keluar dari ruangan itu, anaknya yang tubuhnya telah hancur bisa saja muncul di hadapannya akibat keinginan yang belum diucapkan. Karena ketakutan, ia bahkan kehilangan arah dan tidak tahu lagi di mana letak pintu.

Keningnya basah oleh keringat, ia meraba-raba di sekitar meja, dan meraba dinding hingga ia berada di lorong kecil dengan benda tak wajar itu di tangannya. Bahkan wajah istrinya tampak berubah saat ia masuk ke ruangan. Wajahnya pucat dan penuh harapan, dan bagi ketakutannya, wajah itu tampak memiliki tampilan yang tak wajar. Ia mulai merasa takut kepada istrinya sendiri.

“BUATLAH KEINGINAN!” seru istrinya dengan suara lantang. “Ini bodoh dan jahat,” katanya dengan ragu dan gemetar. “BUAT KEINGINAN!” ulang istrinya. Lelaki itu mengangkat tangannya. “Aku berharap anakku hidup kembali.” Jimat itu jatuh ke lantai, dan dia memandangnya dengan ketakutan. Lalu dia terduduk lemas di atas kursi sambil gemetar, sementara wanita tua itu berjalan ke jendela dengan mata yang penuh harapan lalu membuka tirainya.

Dia duduk hingga kedinginan, sesekali melirik sosok istrinya yang mengintip melalui jendela. Sisa lilin, yang telah terbakar di bawah tepi piringan lilin porselen, memancarkan bayangan berdenyut di langit-langit dan dinding, hingga dengan kedipan yang lebih besar dari yang lain, lilin itu pun padam.

Lelaki tua itu merasa sangat lega karena tampaknya jimat tersebut gagal bekerja. Ia kembali ke tempat tidurnya, dan beberapa saat kemudian wanita tua itu datang dengan diam dan acuh tak acuh di sampingnya. Keduanya tak bicara, hanya duduk diam mendengarkan detik jam. Tangga berderit, dan seekor tikus berlari berisik di balik dinding.

Kegelapan terasa mencekam. Setelah berbaring cukup lama sambil mengumpulkan keberanian, ia mengambil kotak korek api dan menyalakan sebatang korek untuk turun mengambil lilin. Saat sampai di bawah tangga, api korek itu padam dan ia berhenti sejenak untuk menyalakan yang lain. Pada saat yang sama, terdengar ketukan di pintu depan — sangat pelan dan hati-hati hingga nyaris tidak terdengar.

Korek-korek api itu terjatuh dari tangannya dan berserakan di lorong. Dia berdiri diam, menahan napas, sampai ketukan itu terdengar lagi. Kemudian dia berbalik dan berlari cepat kembali ke kamarnya, lalu menutup pintu di belakangnya. Ketukan ketiga terdengar di seluruh rumah. “APA ITU?” teriak wanita tua itu, sambil tersentak bangun. “Tikus,” kata pria tua itu dengan suara gemetar — “Itu tikus. Dia lewat di depan saya di tangga.”