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Здесь люди! Не стреляйте!


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#1 baikalchanga

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Отправлено 05 January 2015 - 16:36

Здесь люди! Не стреляйте!
http://littlehirosim....com/47145.html

Беру. Английский
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#2 Derevo

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Отправлено 05 January 2015 - 22:17

Всем, кто хочет принять участие:
По поводу распределения тем и во избежание повторений: проще сразу указывать части, над которыми в данным момент ведется (или будет в ближайшем времени вестись) работа. Напр. с 1 по10 мин. или по тексту "от ... и до ..."
Знатоки других языков также всегда приветствуются!

АНГЛИЙСКИЙ baikalchanga #3
НЕМЕЦКИЙ
ФРАНЦУЗСКИЙ
--------------------------------------------------
серый - в процессе набора текста на русском языке,
голубой - текст на рус. языке набран,
зеленый цвет - переведено,
синий - в процессе перевода,
красный - пока никто не переводит,
желтый - в процессе редактирования,
оранжевый - отредактировано.

Сообщение отредактировал Derevo: 07 January 2015 - 18:40

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#3 baikalchanga

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Отправлено 07 January 2015 - 18:27

Прошу отредактировать. Я в прошлом технический переводчик, так что многих вещей не разумею. В военном переводе тоже не дока. Например, не знаю, как пишется "МУХА" и другие виды оружия. Но неправильно построенные предложения здесь считаю допустимыми, хоть рациональное и протестует. Ведь текст очень эмоциональный.

People here! Do not shoot!
January 4th, 2015 at 13:13

- Ira, don’t cry! They don’t shoot, it just seems!
In the kitchen the food is being distributed. People came to the social kitchen with the glass jars in hands.
I come up to the women, canteen workers, giving them the packs with feminine pads. Tears ran down Irina’s friend face.
- Darling, thank you!
- Not at all! ... When did they shot?
- Whacked with GRADs yesterday, I guess.
- And what about the truce?
My chickbones are drawn. Should they again…?
But they are laughing. And the tears again.
- Good haven! They do know they hit us on! Don’t they have mothers and children?
Tears are ready to drop everywhere in Pervomaisk. You need just a little. Almost everybody with his pain and strain. This pain can’t be neither expressed nor explained. The town found itself in the siege since July 22 and up to December 9 it has been lived under the constant, everyday fire. It’s the truce now, but the citizens say they hear salvo fires or just shooting all the way. Bombing also happens. They live in horror, fear and death half a year.
PC283729
- Despite the truce, our grandchildren always sleep dressed. And with the documents.
The friend elbows her.
- Don’t you sleep dressed yourself?
Meanwhile, the turn mainly consists of pensioners. Climbing hard up the stairs they get the food pursuant to passport . Stony eyes, walk and words.
- Why don’t you leave, it’s so dangerous?
- To leave where? Who need us? Many people had left in summer. They do return now. Our home is here. We have no other place to go!
Like a big boulder was put and crushed it all.
In summer five thousand from among 60,000 of citizens left. 15 thousand have returned to the town already, have returned to the town which is under continuous fire.
PC283567
- Thanks God we don’t hunger now. But it’s barely enough.
Holding the door, I find out an old woman.
- It were you who brought us food?
- Yes.
Tears in her eyes.
- My dear, thank you! God exists!
This is the third canteen where everybody cries. Then kiss our chicks and cry again. And thank you, thank you, thank you. The heart is turned inside out and entrails are hooked and dragged outside. And emptiness turning into infinity inside me.

PC283628
It’s impossible to get Pervomaisk. The town turns to be located in the horseshoe, surrounded by the UMF and by the National Guard all around. You need to pass many roadblocks on the way from Lugansk side. But you can’t get inside the town if you are not a resident. The passage is closed. Our humanitarian aid was met by Rostislav - tall and handsome militiaman.
- Rostislav, what is your call-sign?
- No call-sign. Just Rostislav. Rostik. I was born here and live here now. I have nothing to fear. My address specified in the social networks is real, so come and talk to me, as I always say.
Rostislav seat us into his car. Just a glance below – the grenade, wound in iPhone wire, like a navel cord.
PC283690
- Real one?
He laughs
- Take it. And look backwards.
I take it with trembling hands. There is something big behind us. Definitely bigger then machinegun. I wish I knew what it was.
- My God, what’s that?
My friend human aid escort, Ruben:
- Grenade machine gun (МУХА)
- No, it's an RPG-26. Come on, I show what did they do to our town.
PC283836

Rostislav slowly pulls one cigarette after another. He is younger than me, but I feel like a child near him – his gaze sharp and clear.
Staring the window I try to find at least one house undamaged. Just one house with due windows. I can’t.
- We have restored f lot by now. Can you see the roof? – It was put a few days ago. And look here – the windows are restored already. Many things are done. But you see what's going on ... And here – can you see a shell hole? – the family went out to make fire to cook food ... And there, do you see the house? – A man had hardly jumped into the basement - the door is still opened. And human remains are everywhere. All with the first hit.
A few minutes later the hand was already tired to make fotos and to open the window. No power to go out. Just weakness and frustration. Blind frustration. You can look at the pictures of bombing in magazines and the Internet many times, but nothing helps to realize it when you see it by your own eyes.
No special vaccinations that would help you to keep cool.
PC283797
- Was it purportedly done?
- No, not at all. The shelling was inaccurate after all.
- Do spotters work?
- Later, but they don’t anymore.
PC283699
- Do they try to get hit the militia?
- We caught some of them, you know. There are good guys among them, common people. When they saw they were fighting not against Russian army, and hit against old people and children, many of them tried to scuttle. They are all zombified to liberate the people from Putin. But in general – they batter the town randomly. Schools, colleges, sports palace – everything and anything. The town is riddled ...
PC283527
Rostik drags on a cigarette, says with slitted eyes.
- Let’s go to the entrance.
We go up the stairs slowly
- God, what is it?
- Every child here can specify by sound what do they use - howitzer, GRAD or mortar. These came down from the air, the plane ...
PC283768
- Why all that? The children, the old people, for what?
- They all are brainwashed. But normal people also happen. Once they shot the field by shells. It means that they remain something human. They can’t fail to comply the order, and do understand they take away somebody’s life or home by each cluster.
- Would it be better to leave the town for people lives? Are the lives of hundreds worthwhile?
Rostislav looks me icing to the bones
- Some part will be just killed, some part will be jailed. Everybody "terrorist" here don’t you know! We won’t surrender the people.
After the recent truce announcement, the people began to bring unexploded munitions to the center of Pervomaisk . Directly to Lenin monument.
The Ukrainian flag trampled in snow and mud is nearby.
PC283409
People come all the time and keep standing. Then go away silent. Cemetery.
- We’ll make a monument of that. Everybody should know.
Two weeks ago the people did not go out at all.
- We came to distribute bread, called. And people from the basement shouted - "drop it here." Were afraid to go out. The people who had the houses undamaged sometimes returned to take some things or to get a wash during the shelling break. Many of them died covered with single shell ... And all the people had been hidden to basements and shelters.
He points to the shells near monument
- These are from GRAD, these are the mortar’, these are shrapnels... These are air frags...
A pile of rusty pipes. Just dozens of the gullets cut, if you do not take a closer look. And each of them means either death or somebody’s grief.
PC283396
Now there are people in the streets. But in general, the city seems died off. As if you come to Pripyat after the explosion.
Rostik shows me the yards, and I am not able anything to see. Eyesight dimout. No people. No homes. The playgrounds banged up. Death.
And the letters on many houses "PEOPLE"
- Rostik, what's this?
- People have written, but if it helps ..
Written by people for whom? for people?
PC283802
The scream from the depth of heart, written by blood. On nearly each house.
The scream written by tears and grief. We are PEOPLE. Do not kill us! PEOPLE
These letters left with me forever. Ingrained deeply like an acid and can’t be burnout. It keeps facing me.
- Let's go to the bombshelter. I show you the people who have lost everything, where do they live and hide themselves.
PC283650
We go down to the basement, The blankets are hanging everywhere . The stove in the middle. Mattresses, blankets, bales of things, cans with water. People began to bustle. They saw militiamen, besieged and inudated him immediately with questions. We were joined by Rostik’s friend - Sanya. Call-sign "Speed". Sanya tries to hold the line surrounded by women.
- How many people live here?
Woman looks through me
- During the bombing the basement is full. Now we live here.
I notice the place separated by hung rags. I move it aside - an old woman looks at me fearfully. Having seen we’ve brought food, her eyes wet immediately.

PC283670
- Are you alone here?
- Children had left, and the house was broken with two shells. I live here since then.
- Why do not they take you away?
- I do not know. But I won’t go. My home is here, and here I will die.
And the tears, tears, tears. And torment pain.
PC283664
In such basements they live in communes. They eat and do everything together.
My eyes puffed. Rostik looks at me
- You are not accustomed to it. Never mind. Let's go on.
The conversation is confused, with thousand questions - what, who, why… But just the old woman and "PEOPLE" in my eyes.
- At the beginning, people behaved awfully – grabed rations and made rows. Tried to snatch anything for themselves. Now everything has changed. War has awaken the human in people. Now when we bring food – they pour the oil by cups and call each other. And share it all.
Is it really needs to live six months under fire, to become just a man?
DSCN1426
In the roadblock the boy of 18 years mounts guard. We give sweets, and he smiles from ear to ear.
- Have you a Christmas tree in your city already set?
- Yes.
- And we have, too! New Year after all!

We were a few people who brought humanitarian aid from Moscow to Pervomaisk. We collected it with the help of our friends, acquaintances and Internet. We have quite different views. But on the way back there was no one who would not cry. Choking with tears, face away, gulping tears in complete inability against this horror.
  • 1

#4 Лесса

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Отправлено 29 January 2015 - 09:08

Беру французский
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Каждый человек по своему прав, а по моему нет (с)

#5 baikalchanga

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Отправлено 30 January 2015 - 16:14

Отредактированный вариант:
People here! Do not shoot!
January 4th, 2015 at 13:13

- Ira, don’t cry! They don’t shoot, it just seems!
In the kitchen the food is being distributed. People came to the social kitchen with the glass jars in hands.
I come up to the women, canteen workers, giving them the packs with feminine pads. Tears ran down Irina’s friend face.
- Darling, thank you!
- Not at all! ... When did they shot?
- Whacked with GRADs yesterday, I guess.
- And what about the truce?
My chickbones are drawn. Should they again…?
But they are laughing. And the tears again.
- Good haven! They do know they hit us on! Don’t they have mothers and children?
Tears are ready to drop everywhere in Pervomaisk. You need just a little. Almost everybody has their pain and strain. This pain can’t be neither expressed nor explained. The town found itself in the siege in July 22 and up to December 9 it has been living under the constant, everyday fire. It’s the truce now, but the citizens say they hear salvo fires or just shooting all the way. Bombing also happens. They live in horror, fear and death for half a year.
PC283729
- Despite the truce, our grandchildren always sleep dressed. And with the documents.
The friend elbows her.
- Don’t you sleep dressed yourself?
Meanwhile, the queue consists mainly of pensioners. Climbing hard up the stairs they get the food pursuant to passport . Stony eyes, walk and speech.
- Why don’t you leave, it’s so dangerous?
- To leave where? Who needs us? Many people had left in summer. They do return now. Our home is here. We have no other place to go!
Like a big boulder was put and crushed it all.
In summer five thousand citizens left out of 60,000. 15 thousand have returned to the town already, have returned to the town which is under continuous fire.
PC283567
- Thanks God we don’t hunger now. But it’s barely enough.
Holding the door, I find out an old woman.
- It were you who brought us food?
- Yes.
Tears in her eyes.
- My dear, thank you! God exists!
This is the third canteen where everybody cries. Then they kiss our chicks and cry again. And thank you, thank you, thank you. The heart is turned inside out and entrails are hooked and dragged outside. And emptiness turning into infinity inside me.

PC283628
It’s impossible to get to Pervomaisk. The town turns to be located in the horseshoe, surrounded by the AFU and the National Guard all around. One needs to pass many roadblocks on the way from Lugansk side. But one can’t get inside the town if he is not a resident. The passage is closed. Our humanitarian aid was met by Rostislav - tall and handsome militiaman.
- Rostislav, what is your call-sign?
- No call-sign. Just Rostislav. Rostik. I was born here and live here now. I have nothing to fear. My address specified in the social networks is real, so come and talk to me, as I always say.
Rostislav seats us into his car. Just a glance below – the grenade, wound in iPhone wire, like a navel cord.
PC283690
- Real one?
He laughs
- Take it. And look backwards.
I take it with trembling hands. There is something big behind us. Definitely bigger than machinegun. I wish I knew what it was.
- My God, what’s that?
My friend escorting human aid, Ruben:
- RPG-18 (МУХА)
- No, it's an RPG-26. Come on, I’ll show what they did to our town.
PC283836

Rostislav slowly pulls at one cigarette after another. He is younger than me, but I feel like a child near him – his gaze is sharp and clear.
Staring at the window I try to find at least one house undamaged. Just one house with unbroken windows. I can’t.
- We have restored a lot by now. Can you see the roof? – It was put a few days ago. And look here – the windows are restored already. Many things are done. But you see what's going on ... And here – can you see a shell crater? – A family went out to make fire to cook food ... And there, do you see the house? – A man had hardly jumped into the basement - the door is still opened. And human remains are everywhere. All by just the first hit.
A few minutes later the hand was already tired to make photos and to open the window. No energy to go out. Just weakness and frustration. Blind frustration. One can look at the pictures of bombing in magazines and the Internet many times, but nothing helps to realize it when one sees it by his own eyes.
There are no special injections that would help you to keep cool.
PC283797
- Was it purportedly done?
- No, not at all. The shelling was inaccurate after all.
- Do spotters work?
- They did before, but they don’t anymore.
PC283699
- Do they try to hit the militia?
- We caught some of them, you know. There are good guys among them, common people. When they saw they were not fighting against Russian army, but against old people and children, many of them tried to scuttle. They are all zombified to liberate the people from Putin. But in general – they batter the town randomly. Schools, colleges, sports palace – everything and anything. The town is riddled ...
PC283527
Rostik pulls at a cigarette, says with slitted eyes.
- Let’s go to the entrance.
We go up the stairs slowly
- God, what is it with..?
- Every child here can specify by sound what they use - howitzer, GRAD, mortar. These came down from the air, the plane...
PC283768
- Why all that? The children, the old people, what for?
- They all are brainwashed. But normal people also happen. Once they shot the field with shells. It means that they still have something human. They can’t fail to comply the order, and do understand they take away somebody’s life or home by each cluster.
- Would it be better to leave the town for people’s lives? Are the lives of hundreds worthwhile?
Rostislav looks at me icing to the bones
- Some part will be just killed, some part will be jailed. Everybody is "terrorist" here, don’t you know! We won’t abandon the people.
After the recent truce announcement, the people began to bring unexploded munitions to the center of Pervomaisk . Directly to Lenin monument.
The Ukrainian flag trampled in snow and mud is nearby.
PC283409
People come all the time and keep standing. Then go away silent. Cemetery.
- We’ll make a monument of that. Everybody should know.
Two weeks ago the people did not go out at all.
- We came to distribute bread, called. And people shouted from the basement - "drop it here." Were afraid to go out. The people who had the houses undamaged sometimes returned to take some things or to get a wash during the shelling break. Many of them died blanketed with single shell ... And all the people had been hidden to basements and shelters.
He points out to the shells near monument
- These are from GRAD, these are the mortar’s, these are shrapnel... These are air frags...
A pile of rusty pipes. Just dozens of the gullets cut, if you do not take a closer look. And each of them means either death or somebody’s grief.
PC283396
Now there are people in the streets. But in general, the city seems died off. As if you come to Pripyat after the explosion.
Rostik shows me the yards, and I am not able to see anything. Eyesight is dim-out. No people. No houses. The playgrounds banged up. Death.
And the letters on many houses "PEOPLE"
- Rostik, what's this?
- People have written, but if it helped ..
Written by people for whom? for people?
PC283802
The scream from the depth of heart, written with blood. On nearly each house.
The scream written with tears and grief. We are PEOPLE. Do not kill us! PEOPLE
These letters left with me forever. Ingrained deeply like an acid and can’t be burnt out. It keeps facing me.
- Let's go to the bomb shelter. I’ll show you the people who have lost everything, where they live and hide.
PC283650
We go down to the basement, The blankets are hanging everywhere . The stove in the middle. Mattresses, blankets, bales of things, cans with water. People began to bustle. They saw militiaman, surrounded and inundated him immediately with questions. We were joined by Rostik’s friend - Sanya. Call-sign "Speed". Sanya tries to hold the line surrounded by women.
- How many people live here?
Woman looks through me
- During the bombing the basement is full. Now we are living here.
I notice the place separated by hung rags. I move it aside - an old woman looks at me fearfully. Having seen we’ve brought food, her eyes wet immediately.

PC283670
- Are you alone here?
- Children had left, and the house was destroyed by two shells. I live here since then.
- Why do not they take you away?
- I do not know. But I won’t go. My home is here, and I will die here.
And the tears, tears, tears. And torment pain.
PC283664
In such basements they live in communes. They eat and do everything together.
My eyes puffed. Rostik looks at me
- You are not accustomed to it. Never mind. Let's go on.
The conversation is confused, with thousand questions - what, who, why… But just the old woman and "PEOPLE" in my eyes.
- At the beginning, people behaved awfully – grabbed rations and made rows. Tried to snatch anything for themselves. Now everything changed. War has awakened the human in people. Now when we bring food – they pour the oil in cups and call each other. And share it all.
Does it really need to live six months under fire, to just become a human?
DSCN1426
In the roadblock a boy of 18 years mounts guard. We give sweets, and he smiles from ear to ear.
- Have you already set a Christmas tree in your city?
- Yes.
- And we have, too! New Year after all!

We were a few people who brought humanitarian aid from Moscow to Pervomaisk. We collected it with the help of our friends, acquaintances and Internet. We have quite different views. But on the way back there was no one who would not cry. Choking with tears, face away, gulping tears in complete inability against this horror.
  • 1

#6 Лесса

Лесса

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Отправлено 02 February 2015 - 02:18

Текст «Здесь люди! Не стреляйте!» - французский


Les gens ici! Ne tirez pas!

- Ira, ne pleure pas! Ne tirez pas, semblait-il!
Distribution de nourriture dans la cuisine. Les gens sont venus d'un bocal de verre sur cuisine sociale.
Je suis allé aux femmes - les femmes qui travaillent salle à manger, se étirent le peloton avec des serviettes hygiéniques. Le second, un ami de Ira, larmes coulaient.
- Chéri, je vous remercie!
- Oui, pendant une longue période ... ce tir?
- Oui, comme hier de châteaux battu.
- Depuis l'armistice, non?
Diminue les pommettes. Soudain, il y aura de nouveau?
Ils rient. Et puis les larmes à nouveau.
- Bon Dieu, ils savent aussi qu'ils nous ont battus sur! Qu'est - ils ne ont pas les mères et les enfants?
Larmes tout dans Pervomaisk proximité. Beaucoup ne le font pas. Presque toutes les personnes sur l'angoisse et la douleur. Une douleur qui ne passe pas et ne transmet pas. Dans le siège de la ville était toujours de 22 Juillet. Depuis le 9 Décembre, vécu sous la constante, le feu tous les jours. Maintenant la trêve, mais les résidents disent que entendons constamment ce volée, juste prise de vue. Il arrive que les bombardements. Six mois vivant dans la terreur, la peur et la mort.


- Malgré l'armistice, seulement petits-enfants dorment dans des vêtements. Et des documents.
Copine pousse.
- Comme si elle ne dormait pas porter?
À son tour, dans l'intervalle, il ya essentiellement des retraités. Disque gravir les échelons et obtenir le passeport pour l'enregistrement alimentaire. La gravité de l'apparence, de marche et de mots.
- Pourquoi ne pas laisser est-il dangereux?
- Mais où? Qui avons-nous besoin? En été beaucoup pouezzhalo. Maintenant de retour. Ce est notre maison. Où sommes-nous?
Un grand rocher et vient de mettre écrasé.
À l'été de 60 000 en moins de 5, donc maintenant 15 000 retournèrent à la ville, qui est constamment sous le feu.


- Maintenant, Dieu merci, ne ont plus faim. Mais à peine suffisant.
Tenir à la porte, là tient une grand-mère.
- Ce que vous nous apportaient de la nourriture?
- Nous sommes.
Les larmes aux yeux.
- Rodnenky merci! Dieu est!
La troisième chambre - partout et tout le pleurer. Puis embrasser sur la joue, et encore pleurer. Et merci, merci, merci. Coeur intérieur. Et crochets internes et se sont traînés. Tous éviscéré et vide à l'intérieur tournant à l'infini.


Dans Pervomaisk ne peut pas y arriver. La ville est située dans le fer à cheval, entouré de tous côtés par le FAU et de la Garde nationale. De Lugansk à surmonter pas un poste de contrôle. Dans la même ville, si vous n'êtes pas un résident de sa façon de ne pas arriver. Le passage est fermé. Notre aide humanitaire se est réuni Rostislav - magnifique hauteur milice.
- Rostislav, ce est votre indicatif d' appel?
- Pas indicatif d'appel. Je ai Rostislav. Rostik. Il est né et a vécu ici. Je ne ai rien à craindre. Dans les Internet écrire partout l'adresse, dites - Venez parler.
Rostislav nous met dans la voiture pour lui. Regardez vers le bas - grenade, enveloppé dans un fil de l'iPhone, comme le cordon ombilical de l'enfant.


- Cette authentique?
Rires
- Trouver. Vous regardez en arrière.
Prendre en main, et tout au plus ils tremblent. Le dos est quelque chose de très grand. Nettement plus la machine devrait le savoir.
- Mon Dieu, ce est quoi?
Mon ami l'aide humanitaire d'accompagnement, Ruben:
- «Mukha»
- Non, ce est un RPG-26. Allez, montrer ce qui a été fait pour notre ville.


Rostislav tire lentement une cigarette après cigarette. Il est plus jeune que moi, mais je me sens proche de lui comme un enfant - vue claire et nette.
Regardez par la fenêtre, et essayer de trouver les yeux d'au moins une maison qui ne serait pas mal. Où il ne est pas éliminé au moins la fenêtre. Je ne peux pas trouver.
- Cela a beaucoup restauré. Vous voyez le toit? - Mettez-le, il ya quelques jours. Et là, vous voyez? - Je ai déjà tiré les paquets à la fenêtre. Beaucoup l'ont fait. Mais elle peut voir ce qui se passe ... Et là, vous voir un entonnoir - Voici quelques-famille est allée sur un feu pour faire cuire la nourriture ... Et là, vous verrez la maison? - Homme même sauter dans la cave n'a pas - la porte reste ouverte. Et partout les restes. Le premier coup.
Quelques minutes plus tard la main était déjà fatigué pour photographier et ouvrir la fenêtre. Pas la force de quitter. On ne peut que la faiblesse et l'impuissance. L'impuissance molle terne. Tant de fois que vous voyez dans les magazines et le réseau d'innombrables photos après le bombardement, et rien ne aide sur la façon de reconnaître quand vous voyez de première main.
Aucun de ces vaccinations spéciales qui aideraient seraient à l'air calme.


- Est spécifiquement?
- Non, là où précisément. Le bombardement est inexacte.
- Travaux de le spotter?
- Ce était, mais pas plus.


- Selon la milice, essayer d'obtenir de vous?
- Oui, vous le savez, nous les pris. Parmi eux il ya de bons gars, les gens. Quand ils ont vu que l'armée russe ne combat pas, mais pour les personnes âgées et les enfants battus, beaucoup ont essayé de se échapper. Ils sont là tout de même zombie que les gens libérés de Poutine. Mais en général - juste indistinctement battre de la ville. Écoles, collèges, palais des sports - oui tout. Ville criblé ...



Rostik serrée, les yeux louchent.
- Je suis allé à l'entrée.
Lente prendre les escaliers.
- Dieu, ce est quoi?
- Nous sommes tous les enfants du son est déterminé que la peau - obusier, la grêle, le mortier. Cet air, l'avion ...



- Qu'est-ce que c'est? Les enfants, les personnes âgées, pour quoi?
- Ils sont tous un lavage de cerveau. Mais il ya des gens normaux. En quelque sorte battre le terrain par des obus. Donc laissé quelque chose d'humain. Vous ne pouvez pas tomber sur le sol, mais comprendre que chaque cassette de feuilles ou de la vie de quelqu'un, ou quelqu'un perd toujours sa maison.
- Peut-être préférable de quitter la ville pour les gens à vivre? Vaut-il la vie de centaines?
Rostislav regarde, pénétrant jusqu'à l'os:
- Ils sont juste la moitié tuera ou la prison. Nous sommes tous ici, «terroristes», comme si vous ne savez pas. Nous, le peuple rendrons pas.
Dans le centre de Pervomaisk récemment, après l'annonce de l'armistice gens ont commencé à porter des coquilles conservés. Directement sous la statue de Lénine
Mensonges proximité piétinés drapeau ukrainien dans la neige et la boue.


Les gens continuent permanent ajustement et long. Ensuite, allez silence. Cimetière.
- Nous ferons ce monument. Pour faire chacun savoir.
Il ya un autre couple de semaines, les gens ne sortaient pas.
- Nous sommes allés à distribuer le pain, appeler. Et les gens du sous-sol en criant - "jettent ici." Laissant craindre. Parfois, quand une accalmie certaine qui a survécu appartements couru à la maison pour se laver, prendre les choses. Tant et le couvercle ... Et tous les sous-sols et les abris étaient assis.
Et les points de doigt vers le obus
- Ce est de la «Grad», est sur le mortier, cette fragmentation. Ce est dans l'air ...
Un tas de tuyaux demi-rouillé. Comme si coupé des dizaines de gouttières, si vous ne regardez pas étroitement. Chacun d'entre eux - soit la mort ou la douleur.


Maintenant il ya des gens dans les rues. Mais en général, la ville semblait éteintes. Comme si vous venez à Pripiat après l'explosion.
Rostik porte les verges, et rien ne peut être vu. Dans les yeux de l'enveloppe. Les gens ne le font pas. Pas de maisons. Terrains de jeux froissé. Mort.
Et dans de nombreux foyers inscription - "Peuples"
- Rostik, ce est quoi?
- Les gens ont écrit, mais si cela aide ..
Les gens ont écrit à qui - aux gens?



Cri du cœur, écrite dans le sang. Presque chaque maison.
Prescrite larmes cri et la douleur. Nous sommes des gens. Ne tuez pas! PEUPLE
L'inscription avec moi pour toujours. L'acide Ingrained ne brûle pas. Debout devant ses yeux.
- Allons à du refuge. Montrer où ils vivent, ceux qui ont tout perdu, et où se cacher.



Nous descendons au sous-sol, accroché Partout couvertures. Poêle se dresse au milieu. Matelas, couvertures, balles de choses boîtes avec de l'eau. Les gens ont commencé à se agiter. Saw miliciens immédiatement fourmillaient et laisser submerger questions. Nous avons été rejoints par Sania, un ami de Rostislav. "Speed" indicatif d'appel. Sania entouré de femmes qui essaient de tenir la ligne.
- Beaucoup de gens vivent ici?
Femme regarde à travers moi
- Lorsque le bombardement, sous-sol complet. Maintenant, nous vivons ici.
Voir pièce séparée, accroché avec des chiffons. Pousse, grand-mère, il me regarde effrayé. Je ai vu que la nourriture est arrivé, mes yeux immédiatement humide...



- Êtes-vous seul ici?
- Les enfants sont partis, et une maison avec deux coquilles brisées. Je vis ici
- Pourquoi ne prenez-vous pas avec vous?
- Je ne sais pas. Mais je ne irai pas. Ce est ma maison, et je vais mourir ici.
Et les larmes, des larmes, des larmes. Et une douleur atroce.



Vivre dans ces caves par des communes. Mangez et tout faire ensemble.
Mes yeux étaient enflés. Rostik regards
- Ne avez-vous d'habitude. Ce n'est rien. Allons plus loin.
La conversation confuse, mille questions - ce qui, pourquoi. Et les yeux de la grand-mère et ce «PEUPLE».
- Au début, les gens se comportaient mal - scandale de soudage sélectionné. Tous ont essayé de saisir pour eux-mêmes. Maintenant, tout a changé. Guerre éveiller les gens humain. Maintenant, nous apporter de la nourriture - versé de l'huile sur des tasses, appelez l'autre. Tout part.
Est-il vraiment nécessaire de vivre six mois sous le feu, pour devenir un homme?



À la périphérie de la ville, à l'enfant de la valeur point de contrôle. 18 ans, pas plus. Donnez chocolats, et il sourire d'une oreille à.
- Vous avez un arbre de Noël dans la ville avez déjà installé?
- Livrer.
- Et nous aussi! Nouvel An aussi!
Nous avons eu quelques personnes qui ont apporté une aide humanitaire de Moscou dans Pervomaisk. Nous avons recueilli ses amis, des connaissances, à travers le Internet. Nous avons une variété de points de vue. Mais il n'y avait personne qui ne serait pas pleurer sur le chemin du retour. Étouffement, se détournant, avaler des larmes dans l'absence totale de volonté de cette horreur.

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#7 Лесса

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Отправлено 02 February 2015 - 02:21

Переведено так, как подано - абзац (ээээ...промежуток между текстами), - это фотография.

Сообщение отредактировал Лесса: 02 February 2015 - 02:23

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#8 baikalchanga

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Отправлено 02 February 2015 - 19:45

Переведено так, как подано - абзац (ээээ...промежуток между текстами), - это фотография.

Да, фотография. Или это не вопрос?
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#9 Лесса

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Отправлено 03 February 2015 - 03:17

Да, фотография. Или это не вопрос?

Нет. Не вопрос.Это мое уточнение - почему промежуток между текстами.)
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