Don Vito Corleone was a man to whom everybody came for help, and never were they disappointed (разочарованы). He made no empty promises (пустых обещаний; promise [‘promıs]), nor the craven excuse (малодушную отговорку [‘kreıv∂n]) that his hands were tied by more powerful forces (связаны более могущественными силами) in the world than himself. It was not necessary (необходимым [‘nesıs∂rı]) that he be your friend, it was not even important (даже не было важно) that you had no means (средств = возможностей) with which to repay him (отплатить). Only one thing was required (требовалось). That you, you yourself, proclaim your friendship (заявлял о своей дружбе, о своих дружеских чувствах /к нему/ [pr∂'kleım]). And then, no matter (не важно) how poor or powerless (бессилен) the supplicant (проситель [‘sLplık∂nt]), Don Corleone would take that man's troubles to his heart (примет беды это человека к сердцу = поможет ему). And he would let nothing stand in the way (не позволит ничему встать на пути = помешать) to a solution of that man's woe (решению бед того человека; woe [w∂u] – горе, несчастья). His reward (награда [rı’wo:d])? Friendship, the respectful title of "Don," and sometimes the more affectionate salutation (более сердечное приветствие [∂'fek∫nıt]) of "Godfather." And perhaps, to show respect only, never for profit (никогда, вовсе не для пользы, прибыли), some humble gift (простой, незатейливый; humble - смиренный) - a gallon of homemade wine or a basket of peppered taralles specially baked to grace (чтобы украсить) his Christmas table. It was understood (понималось = все понимали, конечно), it was mere good manners (всего лишь вежливость: «хорошие манеры»), to proclaim that you were in his debt (в долгу у него) and that he had the right to call upon you (прийти к тебе: «навестить тебя) at any time to redeem (to redeem - возвращать, получать обратно; искупать) your debt by some small service.
Now on this great day, his daughter's wedding day, Don Vito Corleone stood in the doorway (на пороге, в дверях) of his Long Beach home to greet his guests, all of them known (из которых он всех знал: «все из них знаемые»), all of them trusted (которым он доверял). Many of them owed their good fortune (были обязаны своим успехом; to owe [∂u] – быть должным, в долгу) in life to the Don and on this intimate occasion felt free to call him "Godfather" to his face. Even the people performing festal services (исполняющие «праздничное обслуживание») were his friends. The bartender (бармен) was an old comrade (приятель) whose gift was all the wedding liquors ([lık∂]) and his own expert skills («опытные» умения, навыки). The waiters (официанты) were the friends of Don Corleone's sons. The food on the garden picnic tables had been cooked by the Don's wife and her friends and the gaily festooned (весело наряженный гирляндами; festoon – гирлянда, фестон) one-acre garden itself had been decorated (был разукрашен) by the young girl-chums of the bride (подружками невесты; chum – близкий друг, приятель).
Don Corleone received everyone (принимал всех [rı’sı:v]) - rich and poor, powerful and humble - with an equal show of love (с одинаковым выражением любви ['ıkw∂l]). He slighted no one (никому не выказал пренебрежения, никем не пренебрег, никого не обидел). That was his character. And the guests so exclaimed (так восклицали [ıks'kleım]) at how well he looked in his tux (= tuxedo [tLk’sıd∂u] - смокинг) that an inexperienced observer (неопытный = сторонний наблюдатель; experience [ıks’pı∂rı∂ns] - опыт) might easily have thought (мог бы легко подумать) the Don himself was the lucky groom (счастливый жених).
All of these people and many others received engraved invitations to the wedding of Miss Constanzia Corleone, to be celebrated on the last Saturday in August 1945. The father of the bride, Don Vito Corleone, never forgot his old friends and neighbors though he himself now lived in a huge house on Long Island. The reception would be held in that house and the festivities would go on all day. There was no doubt it would be a momentous occasion. The war with the Japanese had just ended so there would not be any nagging fear for their sons fighting in the Army to cloud these festivities. A wedding was just what people needed to show their joy.
And so on that Saturday morning the friends of Don Corleone streamed out of New York City to do him honor. They bore cream-colored envelopes stuffed with cash as bridal gifts, no checks. Inside each envelope a card established the identity of the giver and the measure of his respect for the Godfather. A respect truly earned.
Don Vito Corleone was a man to whom everybody came for help, and never were they disappointed. He made no empty promises, nor the craven excuse that his hands were tied by more powerful forces in the world than himself. It was not necessary that he be your friend, it was not even important that you had no means with which to repay him. Only one thing was required. That you, you yourself, proclaim your friendship. And then, no matter how poor or powerless the supplicant, Don Corleone would take that man's troubles to his heart. And he would let nothing stand in the way to a solution of that man's woe. His reward? Friendship, the respectful title of "Don," and sometimes the more affectionate salutation of "Godfather." And perhaps, to show respect only, never for profit, some humble gift - a gallon of homemade wine or a basket of peppered taralles specially baked to grace his Christmas table. It was understood, it was mere good manners, to proclaim that you were in his debt and that he had the right to call upon you at any time to redeem your debt by some small service.
Now on this great day, his daughter's wedding day, Don Vito Corleone stood in the doorway of his Long Beach home to greet his guests, all of them known, all of them trusted. Many of them owed their good fortune in life to the Don and on this intimate occasion felt free to call him "Godfather" to his face. Even the people performing festal services were his friends. The bartender was an old comrade whose gift was all the wedding liquors and his own expert skills. The waiters were the friends of Don Corleone's sons. The food on the garden picnic tables had been cooked by the Don's wife and her friends and the gaily festooned one-acre garden itself had been decorated by the young girl-chums of the bride.
Don Corleone received everyone - rich and poor, powerful and humble - with an equal show of love. He slighted no one. That was his character. And the guests so exclaimed at how well he looked in his tux that an inexperienced observer might easily have thought the Don himself was the lucky groom.
Standing at the door with him were two of his three sons. The eldest, baptized (окрещенный) Santino but called Sonny by everyone except his father, was looked at askance (наклонно, косо; неодобрительно, с подозрением [∂s'kæns]) by the older Italian men; with admiration by the younger. Sonny Corleone was tall for a first-generation American (для американца первого поколения) of Italian parentage (['pe∂r∂ntıdG] – происхождение), almost six feet, and his crop of bushy, curly hair (шевелюра кудрявых волос; crop – шарообразное вздутие; верхняя часть /например у растений/; урожай) made him look even taller. His face was that of a gross Cupid (тучного; грубого Купидона), the features even (черты ровные = правильные) but the bow-shaped lips (дугообразные губы) thickly sensual (чувственные ['sensju∂l]), the dimpled cleft chin (раздвоенный подбородок с ямочкой; dimple – ямочка; cleft – расселина; расщепленный) in some curious way (неким странным образом = создавали почему-то впечатление) obscene (/чего-то/ непристойного [ob'si:n]). He was built as powerfully as a bull (мощно, как бык) and it was common knowledge (все знали: «это было общим знанием») that he was so generously endowed by nature (так щедро одарен природой; to endow [ın’dau] – наделять, одарять) that his martyred wife (жена-мученица) feared the marriage bed as unbelievers once feared the rack (как неверующие некогда боялись дыбы). It was whispered (шепотом поговаривали) that when as a youth he had visited houses of ill fame (злачные места: «дома плохой репутации»), even the most hardened and fearless putain (даже наиболее закаленные и бесстрашные шлюхи, путаны), after an awed inspection (осмотрев с испугом, благоговением; to awe [o:] – вызывать испуг, благоговение) of his massive organ, demanded double price (требовали двойной оплаты). Here at the wedding feast, some young matrons, widehipped (широкобедрые), wide-mouthed, measured (мерили, рассматривали [‘meG∂]) Sonny Corleone with coolly confident eyes (холодно-уверенными глазами). But on this particular day (но именно в этот день: «в этот особенный, частный день») they were wasting their time (напрасно тратили, теряли время). Sonny Corleone, despite the presence of his wife (несмотря на присутствие) and three small children, had plans for his sister's maid of honor (относительно подружки сестры /на свадьбе/: «почетной девы»), Lucy Mancini. This young girl, fully aware (полностью сознающая /это/ [∂'we∂]), sat at a garden table in her pink formal gown (в розовом парадном платье), a tiara of flowers in her glossy (в блестящих) black hair. She had flirted with Sonny in the past week of rehearsals (репетиций [rı’h∂:s∂l]) and squeezed his hand that morning at the altar. A maiden could do no more (для девицы это немало).
She did not care (ее не волновало: «не заботилась») that he would never be the great man his father had proved to be (каким стал его отец: «доказал быть»). Sonny Corleone had strength (силу), he had courage (смелость [‘kLrıdG]). He was generous (великодушный, добрый, щедрый [‘dGen∂r∂s]) and his heart was admitted (как было признано, считалось; to admit – допускать, соглашаться; считать [∂d'mıt]) to be as big as his organ. Yet he did not have his father's humility (смирения) but instead a quick, hot temper (темперамент, характер) that led him into errors of judgment (вводил в «ошибки суждения»). Though he was a great help in his father's business, there were many who doubted that he would become the heir to it (наследником [e∂]).
The second son, Frederico, called Fred or Fredo, was a child every Italian prayed to the saints for (о котором каждый итальянец молил святых = желал бы иметь). Dutiful (исполнительный: «полный долга»; duty – долг, обязанность), loyal, always at the service of his father, living with his parents at age thirty. He was short and burly (плотный, крепкий, большой и сильный), not handsome but with the same Cupid head of the family, the curly helmet of hair (шлем, каска) over the round face and sensual bow-shaped lips. Only, in Fred, these lips were not sensual but granitelike (словно высечены из гранита: «подобны граниту»). Inclined to dourness (склонный к меланхолии, депрессии; dour [du∂] – мрачный; строгий, суровый), he was still a crutch to his father (все же был опорой; crutch – стойка, опора; костыль), never disputed him, never embarrassed him (никогда не доставлял ему неприятностей, не ставил его в неприятное положение; to embarass [ım’bær∂s] – затруднять, стеснять; ставить в неудобное положение) by scandalous behavior with women (скандальным поведением [bı’heıvj∂]; to behave [bı’heıv] – вести себя). Despite all these virtues (достоинства ['v∂:tju:]) he did not have that personal magnetism, that animal force, so necessary for a leader of men, and he too was not expected to inherit the family business (не ожидалось = не предполагали, что унаследует [ın’herıt]).
Standing at the door with him were two of his three sons. The eldest, baptized Santino but called Sonny by everyone except his father, was looked at askance by the older Italian men; with admiration by the younger. Sonny Corleone was tall for a first-generation American of Italian parentage, almost six feet, and his crop of bushy, curly hair made him look even taller. His face was that of a gross Cupid, the features even but the bow-shaped lips thickly sensual, the dimpled cleft chin in some curious way obscene. He was built as powerfully as a bull and it was common knowledge that he was so generously endowed by nature that his martyred wife feared the marriage bed as unbelievers once feared the rack. It was whispered that when as a youth he had visited houses of ill fame, even the most hardened and fearless putain, after an awed inspection of his massive organ, demanded double price. Here at the wedding feast, some young matrons, widehipped, wide-mouthed, measured Sonny Corleone with coolly confident eyes. But on this particular day they were wasting their time. Sonny Corleone, despite the presence of his wife and three small children, had plans for his sister's maid of honor, Lucy Mancini. This young girl, fully aware, sat at a garden table in her pink formal gown, a tiara of flowers in her glossy black hair. She had flirted with Sonny in the past week of rehearsals and squeezed his hand that morning at the altar. A maiden could do no more.
She did not care that he would never be the great man his father had proved to be. Sonny Corleone had strength, he had courage. He was generous and his heart was admitted to be as big as his organ. Yet he did not have his father's humility but instead a quick, hot temper that led him into errors of judgment. Though he was a great help in his father's business, there were many who doubted that he would become the heir to it.
The second son, Frederico, called Fred or Fredo, was a child every Italian prayed to the saints for. Dutiful, loyal, always at the service of his father, living with his parents at age thirty. He was short and burly, not handsome but with the same Cupid head of the family, the curly helmet of hair over the round face and sensual bow-shaped lips. Only, in Fred, these lips were not sensual but granitelike. Inclined to dourness, he was still a crutch to his father, never disputed him, never embarrassed him by scandalous behavior with women. Despite all these virtues he did not have that personal magnetism, that animal force, so necessary for a leader of men, and he too was not expected to inherit the family business.
The third son, Michael Corleone, did not stand with his father and his two brothers but sat at a table in the most secluded corner (в самом безлюдном уголке; to seclude [sı’klu:d] – отстранять, изолировать) of the garden. But even there he could not escape the attentions (избежать знаков внимания) of the family friends.
Michael Corleone was the youngest son of the Don and the only child who had refused the great man's direction (отказался следовать указаниям этого великого человека). He did not have the heavy, Cupid-shaped face of the other children, and his jet black hair (черные, как смоль; jet – гагат, черный янтарь) was straight rather than curly (скорее прямые, чем вьющиеся). His skin was a clear olive-brown that would have been called beautiful in a girl. He was handsome in a delicate way (красив тонкой, изящной красотой). Indeed there had been a time when the Don had worried about his youngest son's masculinity (беспокоился о «мужеских качествах» = не слишком ли женственен его сын). A worry that was put to rest (беспокойство это отпало, было снято: «было успокоено») when Michael Corleone became seventeen years old.
Now this youngest son sat at a table in the extreme corner (в наиболее удаленном) of the garden to proclaim his chosen alienation (избранную им непричастность; alienation [eılj∂’neı∫∂n] - отдаление, отчужденность) from father and family. Beside him sat the American girl everyone had heard about but whom no one had seen until this day. He had, of course, shown the proper respect (выказал надлежащее уважение) and introduced her (представил ее) to everyone at the wedding, including (включая) his family. They were not impressed with her (она не произвела на них большого впечатления: «не были впечатлены ею»). She was too thin, she was too fair (светлая), her face was too sharply intelligent («остро-умные») for a woman, her manner too free for a maiden. Her name, too, was outlandish (было чуждым, иностранным) to their ears; she called herself Kay Adams. If she had told them that her family had settled (поселилась) in America two hundred years ago and her name was a common one (обычное), they would have shrugged (пожали бы /плечами/).
Every guest noticed that the Don paid no particular attention (не уделил особого внимания) to this third son. Michael had been his favorite before the war and obviously (очевидно) the chosen heir to run the family business (вести семейное дело, управлять делом) when the proper moment came (когда придет надлежащий момент). He had all the quiet force and intelligence of his great father, the born instinct to act in such a way that men had no recourse but to respect him (что людям не оставалось ничего иного, как уважать его; recourse [rı'ko:s] – прибежище, пристанище). But when World War II broke out, Michael Corleone volunteered for the Marine Corps (пошел добровольцем во флот [vol∂n’tı∂]; Marine [m∂’ri:n] – государственный морской флот). He defied his father's express command (он пренебрег явным, недвусмысленно выраженным указанием отца; to defy [dı'faı] – бросать вызов; игнорировать, не обращать внимания) when he did so.
Don Corleone had no desire (никакого желания [dı'zaı∂]), no intention (намерения), of letting his youngest son be killed (допустить, чтобы его сын был убит: «быть убитым») in the service of a power foreign to himself (за чужую, чуждую ему власть: «на службе у власти = державы, иностранной по отношению к нему»). Doctors had been bribed (были подкуплены), secret arrangements (договоренности) had been made. A great deal of money (большое количество) had been spent to take the proper precautions (неоходимые меры предосторожности; precaution [prı'ko:∫∂n] - предосторожность). But Michael was twenty-one years of age and nothing could be done against his own willfulness (своеволие, упрямство). He enlisted (записался) and fought (бился; to fight) over the Pacific Ocean. He became a Captain and won medals. In 1944 his picture was printed in Life magazine with a photo layout of his deeds («с фотографическим изображением» его деяний = подвигов; layout – планировка, расположение; выставка, показ). A friend had shown Don Corleone the magazine (his family did not dare (не осмеливалась)), and the Don had grunted disdainfully (крякнул презрительно; to grunt – хрюкать; ворчать, мычать; disdain [dıs’deın] – презрение, пренебрежение) and said, "He performs those miracles for strangers (выполняет те чудеса для чужаков, иностранцев; miracle ['mır∂kl])."
When Michael Corleone was discharged (демобилизован) early in 1945 to recover (чтобы поправиться, прийти в себя; to recover [rı’kLv∂] – вновь обретать; прийти в себя; выздороветь) from a disabling wound (от раны, мешающей ему продолжать службу; to disable – делать неспособным, непригодным), he had no idea that his father had arranged his release (устроил его освобождение). He stayed home for a few weeks, then, without consulting anyone, entered Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, and so he left his father's house. To return for the wedding of his sister and to show his own future wife to them, the washed-out rag of an American girl (бесцветную американку: the washed-out rag – застиранная тряпка).
The third son, Michael Corleone, did not stand with his father and his two brothers but sat at a table in the most secluded corner of the garden. But even there he could not escape the attentions of the family friends.
Michael Corleone was the youngest son of the Don and the only child who had refused the great man's direction. He did not have the heavy, Cupid-shaped face of the other children, and his jet black hair was straight rather than curly. His skin was a clear olive-brown that would have been called beautiful in a girl. He was handsome in a delicate way. Indeed there had been a time when the Don had worried about his youngest son's masculinity. A worry that was put to rest when Michael Corleone became seventeen years old.
Now this youngest son sat at a table in the extreme corner of the garden to proclaim his chosen alienation from father and family. Beside him sat the American girl everyone had heard about but whom no one had seen until this day. He had, of course, shown the proper respect and introduced her to everyone at the wedding, including his family. They were not impressed with her. She was too thin, she was too fair, her face was too sharply intelligent for a woman, her manner too free for a maiden. Her name, too, was outlandish to their ears; she called herself Kay Adams. If she had told them that her family had settled in America two hundred years ago and her name was a common one, they would have shrugged.
Every guest noticed that the Don paid no particular attention to this third son. Michael had been his favorite before the war and obviously the chosen heir to run the family business when the proper moment came. He had all the quiet force and intelligence of his great father, the born instinct to act in such a way that men had no recourse but to respect him. But when World War II broke out, Michael Corleone volunteered for the Marine Corps. He defied his father's express command when he did so.
Don Corleone had no desire, no intention, of letting his youngest son be killed in the service of a power foreign to himself. Doctors had been bribed, secret arrangements had been made. A great deal of money had been spent to take the proper precautions. But Michael was twenty-one years of age and nothing could be done against his own willfulness. He enlisted and fought over the Pacific Ocean. He became a Captain and won medals. In 1944 his picture was printed in Life magazine with a photo layout of his deeds. A friend had shown Don Corleone the magazine (his family did not dare), and the Don had grunted disdainfully and said, "He performs those miracles for strangers."
When Michael Corleone was discharged early in 1945 to recover from a disabling wound, he had no idea that his father had arranged his release. He stayed home for a few weeks, then, without consulting anyone, entered Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, and so he left his father's house. To return for the wedding of his sister and to show his own future wife to them, the washed-out rag of an American girl.
Michael Corleone was amusing Kay Adams (развлекал) by telling her little stories about some of the more colorful wedding guests (о наиболее колоритных). He was, in turn (в свою очередь), amused by her finding (что она находила) these people exotic, and, as always, charmed by her intense interest (очарован ее живым интересом) in anything new and foreign to her experience. Finally her attention was caught (ее внимание было привлечено) by a small group of men gathered around a wooden barrel (собравшихся вокруг деревянной бочки) of homemade wine. The men were Amerigo Bonasera, Nazorine the Baker, Anthony Coppola and Luca Brasi. With her usual alert intelligence (со свойственной ей живой, острой наблюдательностью; alert [∂'l∂:t] – бдительный, настороженный) she remarked (заметила, высказала наблюдение) on the fact that these four men did not seem particularly happy (не кажутся особенно счастливыми). Michael smiled. "No, they're not," he said. "They're waiting to see my father in private (наедине). They have favors to ask (хотят просить об одолжении, помощи)." And indeed it was easy to see that all four men constantly followed the Don with their eyes.
As Don Corleone stood greeting guests, a black Chevrolet sedan came to a stop on the far side of the paved mall (мощеной аллеи). Two men in the front seat pulled notebooks from their jackets and, with no attempt at concealment (не таясь: «без попытки укрывания, утаивания»; to conceal - утаивать), jotted down (начали записывать; jot – йота, ничтожное количество; to jot – кратко записать, бегло набросать) license numbers of the other cars parked around the mall. Sonny turned to his father and said, "Those guys over there must be cops (те парни вон там, должно быть, полицейские)."
Don Corleone shrugged. "I don't own the street (не владею улицей = улица – не моя собственность). They can do what they please."
Sonny's heavy Cupid face grew red with anger (стало красным от гнева). "Those lousy bastards (вшивые выродки), they don't respect anything." He left the steps of the house and walked across the mall to where the black sedan was parked. He thrust his face angrily close to the face of the driver, who did not flinch (не отклонился, не дрогнул; to flinch – вздрагивать /от боли, испуга/; уклоняться, отступать) but flapped open (открыл: «распахнул»; to flap – хлопать, шлепать) his wallet (бумажник ['wolıt]) to show a green identification card (удостоверение). Sonny stepped back without saying a word. He spat (плюнул; to spit) so that the spittle hit the back door (что слюна попала на заднюю дверь) of the sedan and walked away. He was hoping the driver would get out of the sedan and come after him, on the mall, but nothing happened. When he reached the steps (дошел до ступеней: «достиг» ступеней) he said to his father, "Those guys are FBI men (FBI – Federal Bureau of Investigation /ФБР – Федеральное бюро расследований/). They're taking down all the license numbers. Snotty (сопливые; snot – сопли /груб./) bastards."
Don Corleone knew who they were. His closest and most intimate friends had been advised (его наиболее близким друзьям было посоветовано) to attend (посетить, присутствовать на [∂'tend]) the wedding in automobiles not their own. And though he disapproved (не одобрял) of his son's foolish display of anger (глупое выражение, демонстрацию гнева), the tantrum (вспышка раздражения [‘tæntr∂m]) served a purpose (/по/служило цели ['p∂:p∂s]). It would convince the interlopers (убедит непрошенных гостей; interloper – человек, вмешивающийся в чужие дела) that their presence was unexpected (что их присутствие было неожиданным = что их не ждали) and unprepared for (и к этому не были готовы). So Don Corleone himself was not angry. He had long ago learned that society imposes insults (наносит обиды: «накладывает оскорбления») that must be borne (которые нужно уметь стерпеть, снести: «которые должны быть носимы»), comforted (утешаясь) by the knowledge that in this world there comes a time when the most humble of men, if he keeps his eyes open, can take his revenge on the most powerful (может отомстить самому могущественному). It was this knowledge that prevented (предохранило, предупредило) the Don from losing the humility (от утраты смирения) all his friends admired in him (которым восхищались все его друзья [∂d'maı∂]).