Yes, certainly I'll come

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"منتظران بـــــــهار فصل شکفتن رسید

مژده به گل ها برید یـار به گلشن رسید"

سلام، عید شما مبارک ، صد سال به این سالها

امیدوارم تا این لحظه از تعطیلات نوروزی لذت برده باشید و از این به بعد بیشتر هم لذت ببرید. سال نو مبارک

راستش کتاب بابا لنگ دراز من درست پیش از تعطیلات نوروزی به سر رسید -- چند صفحه ی پایانی کتاب به سبب خواندن ها ی مکرر و دست به دست گشتن، ناپدید شده-- این شد که چند هفته ی قبل گوگلیدم و به چند ترجمه ی متفاوت از بابا لنگ دراز رسیدم البته کتاب خودم را پیدا نکردم.

بنابراین مترجم چند صفحه ی آخر کتاب، دوست دیگری است که نمی شناسمش، چون روی جلد کتاب اسم مترجم نبود. با سپاس فراوان از دوستانی که کتابشان را روی اینترنت آپلود کرده بودند. 

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بابا لنگ دراز عزیز!

از خودم می پرسم که شما کجایید؟

اصلاً نمی دانم کجای این دنیا زندگی می کنید، ولی امیدوارم در نیویورک-- با آن هوای وحشتناکش --نباشید. دوست دارم در قله ی یک کوه ( نه در سوئیس ، بلکه نزدیکتر ) مشغول تماشای برف باشید و درباره ی من فکر کنید. خواهش می کنم به من فکر کنید، چون خیلی تنها هستم و دوست دارم کسی به فکر من باشد.

 فکر نمی کنم بتوانم در لاک ویلو دوام بیاورم. در فکر رفتن به جایی دیگر هستم. سالی، زمستان آینده به بوستون می رود تا در اداره ای کار کند. چه خوب بود که من هم با او می رفتم، می توانستیم آپارتمانی کوچک بگیریم و با هم زندگی کنیم. روزها او پی کارش می رفت و من می توانستم کتابم را بنویسم و عصرها در کنار هم باشیم.

 اینجا جز خانواده ی سمپل و کاری و آماسی کسی نیست که با او حرف بزنم . از پیش می دانم که شما از این برنامه خوشتان نمی آید و از حالا می توانم نامه ی منشی تان را بخوانم که :

دوشیزه جودی آبوت،

خانم عزیز!

آقای اسمیت ترجیح می دهند که شما در لاک ویلو بمانید.

المر.اچ. گریگز

از منشی شما متنفرم. مطمئنم مردی که اسمش المر. اچ. گریگز باشد، مردی بد ترکیب است. ولی بابا جان، فکر می کنم باید به بوستون بروم، نمی توانم اینجا بمانم، اگر هر چه زودتر اتفاقی روی ندهد ، از شدت ناامیدی خود را در سیلوی گندم می اندازم.

وای! هوا چقدر گرم است! علفهای سوخته، جویها خشکیده و جاده ها غبار گرفته اند، هفته هاست که باران نباریده.

حتماً بعد از خواندن این نامه گمان می کنید که من دچار بیماری افسردگی شده ام، اما این طور نیست فقط دلم می خواهد قوم و خویش داشته باشم.

خداحافظ بابای عزیزم

دلم می خواهد شما را بشناسم.

جودی

لاک ویلو

نوزدهم سپتامبر

باباجان، مسئله ای پیش آمده و من به راهنمایی احتیاج دارم و فقط می خواهم با شما مشورت کنم، نه با کسی دیگر. می شود شما را ببینم؟ حرف زدن رودررو برایم راحت تر است. می ترسم منشی شما نامه تان را باز کند.

جودی

حاشیه : خیلی غمگینم.

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LOCK WILLOW,
3rd October Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Your note written in your own hand--and a pretty wobbly hand!--came this morning. I am so sorry that you have been ill; I wouldn't have bothered you with my affairs if I had known. Yes, I will tell you the trouble, but it's sort of complicated to write, and VERY PRIVATE. Please don't keep this letter, but burn it.

Before I begin--here's a cheque [check] for one thousand dollars. It seems funny, doesn't it, for me to be sending a cheque [check] to you? Where do you think I got it?

I've sold my story, Daddy. It's going to be published serially in seven parts, and then in a book!  You might think Id' be wild with joy, but I'm not.  I'm entirely apathetic.  Of course I'm glad to begin paying you--I owe you over two thousand more. it's coming in instalments.   Now don't be horrid, please, about taking it, because it makes me happy to return it.   I owe you a great deal more than the mere money, and the rest I will continue to pay all my life in gratitude and affection.
 
And now, Daddy, about the other thing; please give me your most worldly advice, whether you think I'll like it or not.

You know that I've always had a very special feeling towards you; you sort of represented my whole family; but you won't mind, will you, if I tell you that I have a very much more special feeling for another man?   You can probably guess without much trouble who he is. I suspect that my letters have been very full of Master Jervie for a very long time.

I wish I could make you understand what he is like and how entirely companionable we are. We think the same about everything--I am afraid I have a tendency to make over my ideas to match his!   But he is almost always right; he ought to be, you know, for he has fourteen years' start of me.   In other ways, though, he's just an overgrown boy, and he does need looking after--he hasn't any sense about wearing rubbers when it rains.  He and I always think the same things are funny, and that is such a lot; it's dreadful when two people's senses of humour [humor ] are antagonistic.   I don't believe there's any bridging that gulf!

And he is--Oh, well! He is just himself, and I miss him, and miss him, and miss him.    The whole world seems empty and aching.   I hate the moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me. But maybe you've loved somebody, too, and you know? If you have, I don't need to explain; if you haven't, I can't explain.

Anyway, that's the way I feel--and I've refused to marry him.
I didn't tell him why; I was just dumb and miserable.  I couldn't think of anything to say. And now he has gone away imagining that I want to marry Jimmie McBride--I don't in the least, I wouldn't think of marrying Jimmie; he isn't grown up enough. But Master Jervie and I got into a dreadful muddle of misunderstanding and we both hurt each other's feelings. The reason I sent him away was not because I didn't care for him, but because I cared for him so much.  I was afraid he would regret it in the future--and I couldn't stand that! It didn't seem right for a person of my lack of antecedents to marry into any such family as his.   I never told him about the orphan  asylum, and I hated to explain that I didn't know who I was. I may be DREADFUL ,  you know . And this family are proud--and I'm proud, too!

Also, I felt sort of bound to you. After having been educated to be a writer, I must at least try to be one; it would scarcely be fair to accept your education and then go off and not use it.   But now that I am going to be able to pay back the money, I feel that I have partially discharged that debt--besides, I suppose I could keep on being a writer even if I did marry. The two professions are not necessarily exclusive.

I've been thinking very hard about it. Of course he is a Socialist, and he has unconventional ideas; maybe he wouldn't mind marrying into the proletariat so much as some men might. Perhaps when two people are exactly in accord, and always happy when together and lonely when apart, they ought not to let anything in the world stand between them. Of course I WANT to believe that!    But I'd like to get your unemotional opinion. You probably belong to Family also, and will look at it from a worldly point of view and not just a sympathetic, human point of view--so you see how brave I am to lay it before you.

Suppose I go to him and explain that the trouble isn't Jimmie, but is the John Grier Home--would that be a dreadful thing for me to do? It would take a great deal of courage. Id' almost rather be miserable for the rest of my life.

This happened nearly tow months ago; I haven't heard a word from him since he was here. I was just getting sort of acclimated to the feeling of a broken heart, when a letter came form Julia that stirred me all up again.  She said--very casually--that 'Uncle Jervis' had been caught out all night in a storm when he was hunting in Canada, and had been ill ever since with pneumonia.  And I never knew it. I was feeling hurt because he had just disappeared into blankness without a words. I think he's pretty  unhappy, and I know I am!
What seems to you the right thing for me to do?

Judy

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6th October Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,

Yes, certainly I'll come--at half-past four next Wednesday afternoon. Of COURSE I can find the way. I've been in New York three times and am not quite a baby.  I can't believe that I am really going to see you--I've been just THINKING you so long that it hardly seems as though you are a tangible flesh-and-blood person.

You are awfully good, Daddy, to bother yourself with me, when you're not strong. Take care and don't catch cold.   These fall rains are very damp.
Affectionately, Judy

PS. I've just had an awful thought.   Have you a butler?   I'm afraid of butlers, and if one opens the door I shall faint upon the step.  What can I say to him? You didn't tell me your name. Shall I ask for Mr. Smith?

M.T