داستان پس از ۲۰ سال یکی از داستان های درس بیان شفاهی ۲ رشته مترجمی است.

ابتدا خلاصه داستان به صورت کلیپ و متن خلاصه در ادامه آن است

 

 

خلاصه داستان after twenty years

 it is 10:00  clock in a largely deserted Stree
in New York and most people have closed
their businesses and have headed home a
cop on his night duty is checking
whether all the doors are properly
locked when suddenly he spots a ma
standing by a shop on seeing the cop the
man immediately clarifies to him that he
is there to meet a friend of his
Jimmy Wells who is promised to meet him
at the same place 20 years ago he says
that there used to be a restaurant there
named Big Joe Brady’s where they had
their last dinner together the next day
he had decided to move on to the West in
search for a job while Jimmy had decided
to stay back because apparently for
Jimmy do you Aquos everything the cop
asks him whether he was in touch with
his friend all the while to which he
replies that they used to write to each
other for some time but soon he became
busy in his work and now he wished that
Jimmy might just come to meet him
because he was as true as any man in the
world
the man adds that he was pretty
successful in the West where he learned
how to fight to get whatever he wanted
before leaving the scene the cop asks
him whether he would stay there even if
Jimmy doesn’t arrive soon
the way she says that if Jimmy was alive
he will surely come there soon
a tall man comes from across the street
and asks the man whether he is Bob Bob
is happy that he finally met Jimmy and
both walk along the road our minim pop
keeps on telling about his success
stories and inquires about Jimmy
is life they reach a corner where in the
bright lights Bob has a first careful
look at his friends face he is startled
and says that even though 20 years is a
long time it is
not long enough to change the shape of a
man’s nose it sometimes changes a good
man into a bad one
since the tall man and informs Bob that
he is under arrest the Chicago police
had warned them about silky Bob and told
them that he might arrive in New York
any time before taking him into his
custody the man tells him that he has a
note that a cop named Wells asked to
give to him Bob opens the north and as
his hands start to shake slowly in a
cold light whether the note reads Bob I
was at the place on time I saw the face
of the man wanted by Chicago cops I
didn’t want to arrest you myself
so I went and got another cop and sent
him to do the job Jimmy

 

 

داستان کامل

After Twenty Years
by O. Henry

An illustration for the story After Twenty Years by the author O. Henry

The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o’clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.

Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.

When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.

“It’s all right, officer,” he said, reassuringly. “I’m just waiting for a friend. It’s an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll explain if you’d like to make certain it’s all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands–‘Big Joe’ Brady’s restaurant.”

“Until five years ago,” said the policeman. “It was torn down then.”

The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.

“Twenty years ago to-night,” said the man, “I dined here at ‘Big Joe’ Brady’s with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn’t have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be.”

“It sounds pretty interesting,” said the policeman. “Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven’t you heard from your friend since you left?”

“Well, yes, for a time we corresponded,” said the other. “But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he’s alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He’ll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it’s worth it if my old partner turns up.”

The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.

“Three minutes to ten,” he announced. “It was exactly ten o’clock when we parted here at the restaurant door.”

“Did pretty well out West, didn’t you?” asked the policeman.

“You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. I’ve had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him.”

The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.

“I’ll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?”

“I should say not!” said the other. “I’ll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he’ll be here by that time. So long, officer.”

“Good-night, sir,” said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.

There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.

About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.

“Is that you, Bob?” he asked, doubtfully.

“Is that you, Jimmy Wells?” cried the man in the door.

“Bless my heart!” exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other’s hands with his own. “It’s Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I’d find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! –twenty years is a long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?”

“Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You’ve changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches.”

“Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty.”

“Doing well in New York, Jimmy?”

“Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we’ll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times.”

The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.

At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other’s face.

The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.

“You’re not Jimmy Wells,” he snapped. “Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man’s nose from a Roman to a pug.”

“It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. “You’ve been under arrest for ten minutes, ‘Silky’ Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That’s sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here’s a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It’s from Patrolman Wells.”

The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.

“Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn’t do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.

JIMMY.”

ترجمه داستان پس از ۲۰ سال

ترجمه ی داستان بعد از بیست سال اثر اْ.هنری

افسر پليس در خيابان محل پُست خود با ژستي استوار قدم مي‎زد. ژست استوار او براي نمايش در مقابل تعداد كمي رهگذر نبود، بلكه عادت هميشگي‎اش چنين ايجاب مي‎كرد. ساعت تازه نزديك ده شب شده بود اما باد سرد شديدي كه از آن بوي باران به مشام مي‎رسيد، خيابان را از مردم خالي كرده بود.

همانطور كه افسر پليس از در مغازه‎ها رد مي‎شد، باتومش را با ظرافت و هنرمندانه در دستش مي‎چرخاند. دوري مي‎زد و سپس با چشمان تيزبينش نگاهي به خيابان آرام مي‎انداخت، به شكلي مقتدرانه و با اعتماد به نفس كامل، فضایی از يك نگهبان آرامش ایجاد کرده بود كه موجب مباهاتش بود. محيط خيابان هنوز به همان شكل ساعات اوليه‎ي شب بود. هنوز نور چراغهاي يك سيگارفروشي يا پيشخوان يك اغذيه‎فروشي شبانه ممكن بود ديده شود اما بيشتر ساختمانهاي آنجا متعلق به شركتهايي بودند كه از خيلي وقت پيش تعطيل كرده بودند.

وقتي افسر پليس به ميانه‎ي راه يك ساختمان مشخص رسيد، گامهايش را آهسته كرد. بر در يك فروشگاه لوازم خانگي بسته، يك مرد با سيگاري خاموش در دهانش، تكيه داده بود. به محض آنكه افسر پليس به وي نزديك شد، ناگهان شروع به حرف زدن كرد.

او به شكلي اطمينان بخش گفت: «مشكلي نيست جناب. من فقط منتظر دوستم هستم. يه قرار ملاقاتي داريم كه بيست سال پيش با هم گذاشتيم. شايد يه كم برات خنده‎دار باشه، نه؟! خوب، اگه مي‎خواي خيالت راحت بشه مي‎تونم برات توضيح بدم. خيلي‎خيلي وقت پيش بجاي اين فروشگاه، يك رستوران به اسم بيگ جو بردي[۱] بود.»

افسر پليس گفت: «تا پنج سال پيش، بعد خرابش كردن.»

مردي كه دم در ايستاده بود كبريتي زد و سيگارش را روشن كرد. نور كبريت چهره‎ي رنگ پريده و فك چهارگوش او را با آن چشمان تيزبينش روشن ساخت، و يك جاي زخم سفيد كوچك نزديك ابروي راستش ديده مي‎شد. سنجاق دستمال‎گردنش به شكل يك الماس بزرگ بود كه با آن همخواني نداشت.

مرد گفت: «بيست سال پيش، همچين شبي من با بهترين دوستم، جيمي ولز[۲]، توي رستوران بيگ جو بردي شام خوردم، باحالترين آدم دنيا. من و اون با هم همينجا توي نيويورك بزرگ شديم، مثل دو تا برادر. من هجده سالم بود و جيمي بيست سال. صبح روز بعد، من براي ساختن آينده‎اي شيرين به غرب رفتم. هيچكس نمي‎تونه جيمي رو از نيويورك بيرون بكشه؛ اون فكر مي‎كرد اينجا تنها جاي روي زمينه. خوب، ما همون شب قرار گذاشتيم كه دقيقا بيست سال ديگه درهمون روز و همون زمان همديگه رو ببينيم، مهم نيست كه شرايط زندگيمون چي باشه يا چقدر با اينجا فاصله داشته باشيم. ما فكر كرديم كه هر كدوممون بايد تو اين بيست سال دنبال سرنوشت خودش باشه و آينده‎اش رو بسازه، حالا هر چي مي‎خواد باشه.»

افسر پليس گفت: «جالبه. بيست سال براي ملاقات دوباره، اين براي من خيلي طولاني بنظر مي‎ياد. از وقتي كه رفتي، چيزي از اون دوستت نشنيدي؟»

مرد گفت: «خوب، آره، مدتي با هم در ارتباط بوديم اما بعد از يكي دو سال نشوني همديگه رو گم كرديم. مي‎دوني كه، غرب جاي خيلي بزرگيه و منم با تمام توانم چسبيدم به معامله و دلالي. ولي من مي‎دونم، جيمي اگه زنده باشه حتما مي‎ياد منو ببينه، براي اينكه اون صادقترين و باوفاترين آدم روي زمينه. اون هيچوقت فراموش نمي‎كنه. من هزار مايل اومدم و عين اون شب جلوي اين در ايستادم، اگه اون رفيق قديمي هم بياد، اونوقت ارزشش رو داشته.»

مردي كه منتظر ايستاده بود ساعت شيكي را درآورد و در الماس نشان آنرا كنار زد.

او گفت: «ده دقيقه به ده. وقتي اون شب همينجا در رستوران از هم جدا شديم، ساعت دقيقا ده بود.»

افسر پليس پرسيد: «مثل اينكه غرب حسابي براتون ساخته، نه؟»

«البته. اميدوارم جيمي حداقل نصف من وضعش خوب شده باشه. اون آدمي بود كه فقط سفت و سخت كار مي‎كرد. من بايد با آدماي رِند و زرنگ رقابت مي‎كردم كه اندازه‎ي خودم پول دربيارن. يه آدم كه توي نيويورك چسبيده به روزمَرِگي، توي غرب دوام نمي‎ياره.»

افسر پليس چرخشي به باتومش داد و يكي دو قدم برداشت.

«ديگه بايد برم. اميدوارم دوستتون هر چه زودتر پيداش بشه. مطمئني به موقع مي‎ياد؟»

مرد گفت: «راستش نه! حداكثر نيم ساعت ديگه هم صبر مي‎كنم. اگه جيمي هنوز توي اين دنيا زنده باشه، حتما به موقع مي‎ياد. خيلي طول كشيده جناب.»

افسر پليس درحالي كه براي گشت در محل پُست خود گام بر‎مي‎داشت گفت: «شب بخير آقا.» و همانطور كه مي‎رفت مراقب مغازه‎ها و ساختمانها بود.

حالا ديگر باران سرد و ملايمي مي‎باريد و شدت باد كه به شكلي ناپايدار كم و زياد مي‎شد، جريان ثابتي يافته بود. چند عابري هم كه در خيابان بودند، طي يك ربع در حالتي از سكوت و رخوت فرو رفتند، يقه‎ي كتها را بروي صورتشان بالا كشيده بودند و دستها را در جيبشان فرو بردند. و دم در فروشگاه لوازم خانگي، مردي كه هزار مايل آمده بود تا به قرار ملاقاتش برسد، تقريبا مَنگ و نامطمئن از آمدن دوست دوران جواني‎اش، سيگاري را پُك مي‎زد و انتظار مي‎کشید.

تقريبا بيست دقيقه طول كشيد تا مردي بلند قامت با يك كت باراني بلند، درحاليكه يقه‎اش را روي گوشهايش بالا كشيده بود، از طرف مقابل خيابان با عجله بسوی او گام برداشت. او مستقيم به سمت مرد منتظر آمد.

او با شك و ترديد پرسيد: «خودتي، باب[۳] ؟»

مرد منتظر فرياد زد: «تويي، جيمي ولز؟»

مردي كه تازه رسيده بود با شگفتي گفت: «خداي من!» سپس دست‎های همديگر را با اشتياق گرفتند. «اين همون باب باوفا است. مطمئن بودم كه اگه هنوز زنده باشي همينجا پيدات مي‎كنم. خوب، خوب، خوب! …بيست سال زمان طولاني‎ايه. اون رستوران ديگه نيست، باب، كاشكي هنوز بود و اونوقت مي‎تونستيم بازم همينجا شام بخوريم. از غرب چه خبر، پيرمرد؟»

«محشر! من هرچي مي‎خواستم غرب بهم داده. تو خيلي عوض شدي، جيمي. انگار يه شش- هفت سانتي بلندتر شدي.»

«آه، من يه كم دیگه هم از زمان بيست سالگيم قد کشدیم.»

«اوضاع تو نيويورك روبه‎راهه، جيمي؟»

«بدك نيست. تو يكي از ادارات شهر مشغولم. بيا، باب، بريم يه جا كه مي‎شناسم يه گشتي بزنيم، من خيلي حرفا دارم كه از قديم باهات بزنم.»

دونفرشان در كنار هم در طول خيابان راه افتادند. مردي كه از غرب آمده بود، شروع كرد به لاف زدن درباره‎ي موفقيتهاي شغلي‎اش. ديگري درحاليكه خود را در كت باراني‎اش فرو برده بود با علاقه گوش مي‎داد.

در گوشه‎اي از خيابان، يك داروخانه با روشنايي چشم‎گير قرار داشت. وقتي هر دو به زير نور آن رسيدند، همزمان به چهره‎ي يكديگر خيره ماندند.

مردي كه از غرب آمده بود به ناگهان ايستاد و خود را پس كشيد.

او با بدخلقي گفت: «تو جيمي ولز نيستي. بيست سال زمان طولاني‎ايه اما نه اونقدر كه دماغ عقابی كسي تبديل به دماغ كوفته‎اي بشه.»

مرد قد بلند گفت: «اما بيست سال اونقدر كافي هست كه يه آدم خوب تبديل به يه آدم بد بشه. تو ده دقيقه است كه بازداشت شدي، مَلوس خان. توي شيكاگو فكر مي‎كردن كه بايد گذرت به اينجا افتاده باشه و تلگرافي زدن كه برای تو يه گپ زدن کوچولو داره. خودت آروم تشريف مي‎ياري، مگه نه؟ اينجوري عاقلانه‎تره. البته قبل از اينكه بريم پاسگاه، يادداشتي هست كه به من گفتن بدمش به تو. مي‎توني همينجا توي نور پنجره بخونيش، از طرف افسر پليس گشت، ولز.»

مردي كه از غرب آمده بود تكه كاغذي را كه در دستش گذاشته بود، باز كرد. وقتي شروع به خواندن كرد، دستش آرام بود اما وقتي نامه را تمام كرد، دستش مي‎لرزيد. ياداشت كوتاهي بود.

«باب، من سر جايي كه قرار گذاشته بوديم به موقع حاضر شدم. وقتي كبريت زدي تا سيگارت را روشن كني، من چهره‎ي مردي را ديدم كه در شيكاگو تحت تعقيب بود. يه جورايي خودم نتونستم بازداشتت كنم، بنابراين برگشتم و از يكي از پليسهاي لباس شخصي خواستم تا اينكار رو انجام بده.»