Emancipation: A Life FableKate Chop

Emancipation: A Life Fable
Kate Chopin
There was once an animal born into this world, and opening his eyes upon Life, he saw above and about him confining walls, and before him were bars of iron through which came air and light from without; this animal was born in a cage.
Here he grew, and throve in strength and beauty under the care of an invisible protecting hand. Hungering, food was ever at hand. When he thirsted water was brought, and when he felt the need to rest, there was provided a bed of straw upon which to lie; and here he found it good, licking his handsome flanks, to bask in the sunbeam that he thought existed but to lighten his home.
Awaking one day from his slothful rest, lo! the door of his cage stood open: accident had opened it. In the corner he crouched, wondering and fearingly. Then slowly did he approach the door, dreading the unaccustomed, and would have closed it, but for such a task his limbs were purposeless. So out the opening he thrust his head, to see the canopy of the sky grow broader, and the world waxing wider.
Back to his corner but not to rest, for the spell of the Unknown was over him, and again and again he goes to the open door, seeing each time more Light.
Then one time standing in the flood of it; a deep indrawn breath – a bracing of strong limbs, and with a bound he was gone.
On he rushes, in his mad flight, heedless that he is wounding and tearing his sleek sides – seeing, smelling, touching of all things; even stopping to put his lips to the noxious pool, thinking it may be sweet.
Hungering there is no food but such as he must seek and ofttimes fight for; and his limbs are weighted before he reaches the water that is good to his thirsting throat.
So does he live, seeking, finding, joying and suffering. The door which accident had opened is opened still, but the cage remains forever empty!



My Name
In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.
It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of the horse--which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female-but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong.
My great-grandmother. I would've liked to have known her, a wild, horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off. Just like that, as if she were a fancy chandelier. That's the way he did it.
And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldn't be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.
At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as thick as sister's name Magdalena--which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least- -can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza. would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X. Yes. Something like Zeze the X will do.
Cisneros, Sandra. The House on Mango Street. New York: Vintage Books, 1984. 25-27.

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Freeing slaves: A Fable life Kate Chopin There was an animal born in this world, and opened his eyes to life, he saw above him and the lock walls, and before he It is the iron bar through which to air and light from without; this animal was born in a cage. Here he grew and throve in strength and beauty under the care of a multitude Figure protect hands. Hungering, food is always at hand. When he thirsted water delivered, and when he felt the need to rest, there is provided a bed of straw which lie; and here he found it good, handsome licking their flanks, to bask in the warm sunshine that he thought existed, but light his home. Bring a rest day from his slothful, lo! the door of his cage stand Open: accident opened it. At the corner he bowed, wondering and fearingly. Then slowly did he approach the door, afraid of creating, and can close it, but for a job his limbs be purposeless. So, in the opening he thrust his head, to see the canopy of the sky grows larger and wider world waxing. Back to his corner but not to rest , the spelling of people do not know more than him, and again, and again he went to the door opened, when many see the light. Then one time stood in its flood; a a deep breath indrawn-bracing of the arms and legs strong, and with one bound he was gone. On his rushes, in his mad flight, not aware that he was injured and his torn Designs nice side-see, smell, touch of everything, maybe even stopping to put his lips to the toxic gas pool, thinking it might be sweet. Hungering there is no food but such as search and ofttimes he must fight for, and his limbs were important before he reached the water is good for your throat thirsting. So he works directly, search, search, joying and suffering. The accident that opened the door to remain open, but the cage was empty forever! My Name In English my name means hope. In Spanish, it means too many words. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number 9. The color of mud. It is the Mexican records my father played on Sunday morning when he was shaving, the songs like sobbing. It was my grandmother tried to name and now it's mine. She is a woman riding too, as I was born in the Chinese year of the horse - which is supposed to be lucky if you're girls-but I think this is a lie China because China, as Mexicans, not like the strong woman. She's my major. I would have liked to have known her, wild, Horse of a woman, so wild she would not marry. Until my great grandfather threw a sack over his head and brought her. Just like that, as if it were a favorite chandelier like. That's how he did it. And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window of his entire life, how many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if it's done the best with what she has received or is she apologized because she can not be all that she wants. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I do not want to inherit the place her by the window. At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made ​​on filling and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish, my name is carried out on a lightly over something, like silver, not quite as thick as the sister named Magdalena - that is uglier than me. Magdalena least la-- people can come home and become Nenny. But I always Esperanza. want to baptize myself under a new name, a name I really like, one of those who do not see. Esperanza is Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze with X .. Something like Zeze the X will do. Cisneros, Sandra . The house on mango street. New York: Classic books, 1984. 25-27.

Kết quả (Việt) 2:

Emancipation: A Life Fable
Kate Chopin
There was once an animal born in this world, and opened my eyes to life, he saw above him locked up and the wall, and before him the iron cross bar through which to air and light from the outside, this animal was born in a cage.
Here he grew up, and throve in strength and beauty under the care of an invisible hand protection . Hunger and thirst, food is always at hand. When he was given thirsty, and when he felt the need to rest, there is provided a bed of straw on which to lie, and here he found it good, lick her handsome arms, to soak in the rays, which he thought existed, but to brighten your home.
awaken one day from the rest of his laziness, lo! cage door stood open: accident had opened it. In the corner of the garden, he bent down, wondering and fearingly. Then slowly he was approaching the door, fear the unfamiliar, and will be closed, but for a task as his limbs are purposeful. So, apart from the opening he pushed his head to see the trees in the sky grows larger, and waxing wider world.
In his corner, but not to rest, allowing the Unknown passed him, and again, and again he went to open the door, see each lighter.
Then one time stood in its flood; a deep breath indrawn - a bracing strong limbs, and with one bound he was gone.
On his wick, in his mad flight, did not notice that he was wounded and torn his sleek face - sight, smell, touch of everything, even stopping to put his lips to the toxic pool, thinking it might be sweet.
hungry without food, but as he must search and struggle for ofttimes ; and his limbs were important before the water reaches the throat that is good for your thirsty.
So does he live, search, search, joying and suffering. The door accident opening is opened, still, but the cage was empty forever! My Name In English my name means hope. In Spanish, the word means so much. It means sadness, it has means waiting. It's like nine. A colored mud. This is my father's records Mexico played in the Sunday morning while he was shaving, songs like crying. It was my grandmother's name and now it is mine. She is a woman horse too, as I was born in the Chinese year of the horse - which is considered lucky if you were born a female but I think this is a lie of China because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don 't like their strong woman. My grandmother. I know her like a wild horse a woman, so naturally she would not marry. Until my grandfather threw a bag over her head and took her away. Just like that, as if she is a fancy chandelier . That's how he did it. And the story goes, she never forgave him. She looked out the window of her whole life, how many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made ​​the best of what she has or is she apologized because she can not have all the things she wanted. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I do not want to inherit the position his side window. At school they called me happy as the syllable is made ​​of tin and hurt your palate. But in Spanish, my name is making something lighter such as silver, not quite as thick as the name of the sister Magdalena - which is worse than me. Magdalena at least- -Can people return home and become Nenny. But I always Esperanza. want to baptize myself under a new name, a name I really like, is that no one sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze X. Yes. Something like Zeze the X will do. Cisneros, Sandra. House on Mango Street . New York: Vintage Books, 1984. 25-27.