RO Lesson
DARIEIULIAN2002RO
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PUTETI TRADUCE VA ROG DIN ENGLEZA IN ROMANA? Dau coroana, fara google translate.

Wakefield Whiteoak ran on and on, faster and faster, till he could run no farther. He did not know why he had suddenly increased his speed. He did not even know why he ran. When, out of breath, he threw himself face down on the new spring sod of the meadow, he completely forgot that he had been running at all, and lay, his cheek pressed against the tender grass, his heart thudding against his ribs, without a thought in his head. He was no more happy or unhappy than the April wind that raced across his body or the young grass that quivered with life beneath it. He was simply alive, young, and pressed by the need of violent exertion.
Looking down into the crowding spears of grass, he could see an ant hurrying eagerly, carrying a small white object. He placed his finger before it, wondering what it would think when it found its way blocked by this tall, forbidding tower. Ants were notoriously persevering. It would climb up his finger, perhaps, and run across his hand. No, before it touched his finger, it turned sharply aside and hurried off in a fresh direction. Again he blocked its path, but it would not climb the finger. He persisted. The ant withstood. Harried, anxious, still gripping its little white bundle, it was not to be inveigled or bullied into walking on human flesh. Yet how often ants had scrabbled over him when he had least wanted them! One had even run into his ear once and nearly set him crazy. In sudden anger, he sat up, nipped the ant between his thumb and forefinger, and placed it firmly on the back of his hand. The ant dropped its bundle and lay down on its back, kicking its legs in the air and twisting its body. It was apparently in extreme anguish. He threw it away, half in disgust, half in shame. He had spoiled the silly old ant's day for it. Perhaps it would die.
Briskly he began to search for it. Neither body nor bundle of ant was to be seen, but a robin, perched on a swinging branch of a wild cherry tree, burst into song. It filled the air with its rich throaty notes, tossing them on to the bright sunshine like ringing coins. Wakefield held an imaginary gun to his shoulder and took aim.
"Bang!" he shouted, but the robin went on singing just as though it had not been shot.
"Look here," complained Wakefield, "don't you know when you're dead? Dead birds don't sing, I tell you."
The robin flew from the cherry tree and alighted on the topmost twig of an elm, where it sang more loudly than ever to show how very much alive it was.>>

Răspuns :

RONAN2RO
Traducere..

Wakefield Whiteoak fugea si fugea din ce in ce mai rapid, pina nu a mai putut alerga.El nu stia de ce isi marise viteza deodata. Nici macar nu stia de ce alerga. Cind nu a ramas fara respiratie si a aruncat fata in jos pe iarba de pe lunca primaverii. El a uitat complet ca a fugit si s-a culcat, obrazul statea pe iarba, inima lui batea, el statea si nu avea niciun gind in cap.
El nu a fost mai fericit sau nefericit de cit vintu de aprilie ce ii trecea peste tot corpul sau iarba tinara ce tremura cu viata linga el. A fost doar tinar, viu si presat de nevoia de efort violent.
Uitinduse in jos in iarba ascutita el a putut vedea o furnica ce se grabea carind un obiect alb, si-a pus degetul inaintea ei gindinduse ce simtea furnica xind drumul era sa fie blocat de un turn inalt. Furnicile erau perseverente, putea sa urce pe deget sa alerge inconjurind mina . Nu, inainte sa-i atinga degetul ea s-a intors inapoi cautind alta cale. El ia astupat cararea furnicii din nou dar ea nu s-a urcat. El a persustat. Furnica s-a impotrivit. Ingrijorata ea si-a luat obiectul alb. Nu a fost ademenita sau agresata ca sa se urce pe pielea de om. Cite furnici se miscau linga el. Una i-a intrat si in ureche facindul nebun. In starea de furie in care se afla s-a ridicat cu furnica intre degetul mare si a pus-o ferm pe partea din spate a miinii. Furnica si-a aruncat pachetul si s-a asezat. batea din picioare si se invirtea, se simteaI chinuita. El a aruncat-o, pe de o parte era dezgustat da pe de alta parte era rusinat.
Poate va muri..
Vioi a inceput sa o caute. Nici ea si nici pachetelul ei nu se vedea. Un prihor s-a asezat pe o creanga de un copac de cires, a inceput sa cinte. A umplut aerul cu muzica sa fascinanta ca niste ,,sonerii,,. Wakefield si-a scos pistolul imaginar, si a tintit.BANG! a strigat el dar pasarea a continyat sa cinte. Uite aici nu stii ca ai murit? pasarile moarte nu cinta . Prihorul a zburat din cires si sa aruncat pe creasta cea mai inalta a unui brad, unde a cintat mai tare decit oricind pentru a arata cit de mult era în viata.
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