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The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening Slovenian A1-B2 Translation Books

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening Slovenian A1-B2 Translation Books

Unlock the potential of this modern translation approach, designed to enhance your language learning experience. By allowing you to choose your difficulty level, it guarantees a personalized challenge that's suited to your progress. This method promotes comprehension by encouraging you to infer the meaning of new words from context, rather than relying heavily on direct translations. Though some translations are obscured to stimulate guessing, it's perfectly fine to consult a dictionary when needed. This technique combines challenge and support, making language learning fun and effective. Explore these translated classics to enjoy literature while advancing your language skills.

THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorofbeautifulthings.
Toreveal
umetnosti
artandconcealtheartistisart’s
cilj
aim.
Thecriticishe
ki
whocantranslateintoanother
način
manneroranewmaterialhis
vtis
impressionofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestasthelowestformof
kritike
criticismisamodeofautobiography.
Those
ki
whofinduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsarecorruptwithoutbeingcharming.
To
Thisisafault.
Those
ki
whofindbeautifulmeaningsin
čudovite
beautifulthingsarethecultivated.
For
te
thesethereishope.
Theyaretheelecttowhom
lepe
beautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.
Thereis
ne
nosuchthingasamoral
ali
oranimmoralbook.
Booksare
dobro
wellwritten,orbadlywritten.
To
Thatisall.
Thenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismisthe
bes
rageofCalibanseeinghisown
obraz
faceinaglass.
Thenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismisthe
bes
rageofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
The
moralno
morallifeofmanforms
del
partofthesubject-matteroftheartist,
toda
butthemoralityofartconsistsintheperfectuseofanimperfectmedium.
Ne
Noartistdesirestoprove
ničesar
anything.
Eventhingsthataretrue
lahko
canbeproved.
Noartisthas
etičnih
ethicalsympathies.
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Ni
Noartistisevermorbid.
The
umetnik
artistcanexpresseverything.
Thought
in
andlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsofan
umetnosti
art.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsforanart.
Fromthepointofviewofform,the
vrsta
typeofalltheartsisthe
umetnosti
artofthemusician.
Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’scraftisthe
tip
type.
Allartisatoncesurface
in
andsymbol.
Thosewhogo
pod
beneaththesurfacedosoattheirperil.
Those
ki
whoreadthesymboldosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,andnot
življenje
life,thatartreallymirrors.
Diversityofopinion
o
aboutaworkofartshows
da
thattheworkisnew,
zapleteno
complex,andvital.
Whencriticsdisagree,the
umetnik
artistisinaccordwithhimself.
We
lahko
canforgiveamanformakinga
uporabno
usefulthingaslongashedoesnotadmireit.
The
edini
onlyexcuseformakingauselessthingis
da
thatoneadmiresitintensely.
Allartis
povsem
quiteuseless.
CHAPTERI.
The
studio
studiowasfilledwiththerichodourofroses,
in
andwhenthelightsummer
veter
windstirredamidstthetreesof
je
thegarden,therecamethrough
je
theopendoortheheavyscentof
je
thelilac,orthemoredelicate
parfum
perfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewaslying,smoking,aswashis
običaj
custom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncould
pravkar
justcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweet
in
andhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,
katerih
whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobearthe
breme
burdenofabeautysoflamelikeastheirs;
in
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthehugewindow,producingakindofmomentaryJapanese
učinek
effect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthemediumofan
umetnosti
artthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythe
občutek
senseofswiftnessandmotion.
Je
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythrough
je
thelongunmowngrass,orcircling
z
withmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsof
je
thestragglingwoodbine,seemedtomake
je
thestillnessmoreoppressive.
Thedim
rjovenje
roarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteofadistantorgan.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofayoungmanofextraordinary
osebne
personalbeauty,andinfrontofit,
nekaj
somelittledistanceaway,wassittingthe
umetnik
artisthimself,BasilHallward,whose
nenadno
suddendisappearancesomeyearsagocaused,atthe
času
time,suchpublicexcitementandgaverisetosomany
čudnih
strangeconjectures.
Asthepainterlookedatthegracious
in
andcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhis
umetnosti
art,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,
in
andseemedabouttolinger
tam
there.
Buthesuddenlystartedup,andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrain
nekaj
somecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyourbest
delo
work,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“Youmustcertainlysenditnext
leto
yeartotheGrosvenor.
The
Akademija
Academyistoolargeand
preveč
toovulgar.
WheneverIhavegone
tam
there,therehavebeeneitherso
veliko
manypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletosee
je
thepictures,whichwasdreadful,
ali
orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletosee
je
thepeople,whichwasworse.
TheGrosvenoris
res
reallytheonlyplace.”
“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,tossinghis
glavo
headbackinthatodd
način
waythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
in
andlookedathiminamazement
skozi
throughthethinbluewreathsof
dima
smokethatcurledupin
takšne
suchfancifulwhorlsfromhis
težke
heavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsendit
nikamor
anywhere?
Mydearfellow,why?
Haveyouany
razlog
reason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
Youdoanythinginthe
svetu
worldtogainareputation.
Assoonasyouhaveone,youseemtowanttothrowit
stran
away.
Itissillyofyou,forthereis
samo
onlyonethinginthe
svetu
worldworsethanbeingtalked
o
about,andthatisnotbeingtalked
o
about.
Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyou
daleč
farabovealltheyoungmeninEngland,
in
andmaketheoldmen
zelo
quitejealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butI
res
reallycan’texhibitit.
Ihaveput
preveč
toomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfouton
je
thedivanandlaughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
ampak
butitisquitetrue,allthesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmy
besedo
word,Basil,Ididn’tknowyouweresovain;
in
andIreallycan’tseeanyresemblance
med
betweenyou,withyourruggedstrongface
in
andyourcoal-blackhair,and
tem
thisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutofivory
in
androse-leaves.
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
in
andyou—well,ofcourseyouhaveanintellectual
izraz
expressionandallthat.
Butbeauty,realbeauty,ends
kjer
whereanintellectualexpressionbegins.
Intelekt
Intellectisinitselfa
način
modeofexaggeration,anddestroystheharmonyofanyface.
Themomentonesitsdowntothink,onebecomes
vse
allnose,orallforehead,
ali
orsomethinghorrid.
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyofthelearnedprofessions.
Kako
Howperfectlyhideoustheyare!
Razen
Except,ofcourse,intheChurch.
Toda
ButthenintheChurchtheydon’tthink.
A
škof
bishopkeepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewastoldtosay
ko
whenhewasaboyofeighteen,
in
andasanaturalconsequencehe
vedno
alwayslooksabsolutelydelightful.
Yourmysterious
mladi
youngfriend,whosenameyouhave
nikoli
nevertoldme,butwhosepicture
resnično
reallyfascinatesme,neverthinks.
Ifeelquitesureof
to
that.
Heissomebrainlessbeautiful
bitje
creaturewhoshouldbealways
tukaj
hereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstolookat,
in
andalwayshereinsummer
ko
whenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleast
kot
likehim.”
“Youdon’tunderstandme,Harry,”answered
je
theartist.
“OfcourseIamnot
kot
likehim.
Iknowthatperfectlywell.
Res
Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iamtellingyouthetruth.
Thereisafatalityabout
vseh
allphysicalandintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatalitythatseemstodog
skozi
throughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itis
bolje
betternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
The
grdi
uglyandthestupidhavethebestofitin
tem
thisworld.
Theycansitattheirease
in
andgapeattheplay.
Če
Iftheyknownothingof
zmagi
victory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeof
porazu
defeat.
Theyliveaswe
vsi
allshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,and
brez
withoutdisquiet.
Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,norever
prejmejo
receiveitfromalienhands.
Your
čin
rankandwealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,
karkoli
whateveritmaybeworth;
DorianGray’s
dober
goodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhat
je
thegodshavegivenus,
trpeli
sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Is
to
thathisname?”
askedLordHenry,walkingacross
je
thestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishis
ime
name.
Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou.”
“Butwhynot?”
“Oh,Ican’t
razložiti
explain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,Inever
povem
telltheirnamestoanyone.
Itis
kot
likesurrenderingapartof
njih
them.
Ihavegrowntolovesecrecy.
Itseemstobe
je
theonethingthatcanmakemodern
življenje
lifemysteriousormarvellousto
nam
us.
Thecommonestthingisdelightful
če
ifoneonlyhidesit.
Ko
WhenIleavetownnowI
nikoli
nevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.
Če
IfIdid,Iwouldloseallmy
užitek
pleasure.
Itisasillyhabit,Idare
reči
say,butsomehowitseemstobringa
veliko
greatdealofromanceintoone’s
življenje
life.
Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”answeredLordHenry,“notatall,my
dragi
dearBasil.
YouseemtoforgetthatIam
poročen
married,andtheonecharmofmarriageisthatitmakesa
življenje
lifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryfor
obe
bothparties.
Ineverknow
kje
wheremywifeis,andmy
žena
wifeneverknowswhatIamdoing.
Ko
Whenwemeet—wedomeetoccasionally,
ko
whenwedineouttogether,orgodowntotheDuke’s—wetelleachotherthe
najbolj
mostabsurdstorieswiththe
najbolj
mostseriousfaces.
Mywifeis
zelo
verygoodatit—muchbetter,infact,
kot
thanIam.
Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,andI
vedno
alwaysdo.
Butwhenshedoesfindmeout,shemakes
ne
norowatall.
I
včasih
sometimeswishshewould;
butshemerelylaughsatme.”
“Ihate
je
thewayyoutalkaboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strolling
proti
towardsthedoorthatledinto
je
thegarden.
“Ibelievethatyouare
res
reallyaverygoodhusband,
vendar
butthatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
You
nikoli
neversayamoralthing,
in
andyouneverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismissimplyapose.”
“Beingnaturalis
preprosto
simplyapose,andthe
najbolj
mostirritatingposeIknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;
in
andthetwoyoungmenwentoutintothe
vrt
gardentogetherandensconcedthemselvesonalongbambooseat
ki
thatstoodintheshadeofatalllaurelbush.
Je
Thesunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.
Inthe
travi
grass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Po
Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch.
“IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeI
iti
go,Iinsistonyouransweringa
vprašanje
questionIputtoyou
nekaj
sometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
said
je
thepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedon
je
theground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwill
povedal
tellyouwhatitis.
Iwantyoutoexplaintomewhyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“Itoldyouthe
pravi
realreason.”
“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwas
ker
becausetherewastoomuchofyourselfin
to
it.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”saidBasilHallward,lookinghim
naravnost
straightintheface,“every
portret
portraitthatispaintedwithfeelingisa
portret
portraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
Thesitterismerelytheaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothe
ki
whoisrevealedbythe
slikar
painter;
itisratherthe
slikar
painterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.
The
razlog
reasonIwillnotexhibit
te
thispictureisthatIamafraid
da
thatIhaveshowninitthe
skrivnost
secretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“Iwill
povedal
tellyou,”saidHallward;
but
je
anexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iamallexpectation,Basil,”continuedhis
spremljevalec
companion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereis
res
reallyverylittletotell,Harry,”answeredthe
slikar
painter;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Morda
Perhapsyouwillhardlybelieveit.”
LordHenrysmiled,
in
andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfromthe
trave
grassandexaminedit.
“Iam
povsem
quitesureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatthelittle
zlati
golden,white-feathereddisk,“andasforbelievingthings,I
lahko
canbelieveanything,providedthatitis
povsem
quiteincredible.”
Thewindshook
nekaj
someblossomsfromthetrees,
in
andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedto
in
andfrointhelanguid
zraku
air.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythe
steni
wall,andlikeablue
nit
threadalongthindragon-flyfloated
mimo
pastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenryfeltasifhecouldhearBasilHallward’s
srca
heartbeating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryis
preprosto
simplythis,”saidthepainter
po
aftersometime.
“TwomonthsagoIwenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
Youknowwe
ubogi
poorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,
samo
justtoremindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Z
Withaneveningcoatanda
belo
whitetie,asyoutoldme
nekoč
once,anybody,evenastock-broker,
lahko
cangainareputationforbeingcivilized.
No
Well,afterIhadbeeninthe
sobi
roomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagers
in
andtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconsciousthatsomeonewaslookingatme.
Iturnedhalf-wayround
in
andsawDorianGrayforthe
prvič
firsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,Ifelt
da
thatIwasgrowingpale.
Je
Acurioussensationofterrorcameoverme.
IknewthatIhadcomefacetoface
z
withsomeonewhosemere
osebnost
personalitywassofascinatingthat,
če
ifIallowedittodoso,itwouldabsorbmywholenature,mywhole
dušo
soul,myveryartitself.
Ididnotwantanyexternalinfluenceinmylife.
Youknowyourself,Harry,
kako
howindependentIambynature.
Ihave
vedno
alwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hadat
vsaj
leastalwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’t
vem
knowhowtoexplainittoyou.
Nekaj
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasonthe
robu
vergeofaterriblecrisisinmylife.
Ihada
čuden
strangefeelingthatfatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoys
in
andexquisitesorrows.
Igrewafraid
in
andturnedtoquitthe
sobo
room.
Itwasnotconsciencethatmademedoso:
itwas
je
asortofcowardice.
Itake
ne
nocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscience
in
andcowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
To
Thatisall.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,
in
andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—andit
morda
mayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobe
zelo
veryproud—Icertainlystruggledto
je
thedoor.
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLady
Brandon
Brandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawayso
kmalu
soon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheisa
pav
peacockineverythingbutbeauty,”saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobits
z
withhislongnervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
in
andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,
in
andelderlyladieswithgigantictiaras
in
andparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihad
samo
onlymetheroncebefore,butshetookitintoher
glavo
headtolionizeme.
Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmadeagreatsuccessatthe
času
time,atleasthadbeenchattered
o
aboutinthepennynewspapers,
kar
whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
Nenadoma
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffaceto
obraz
facewiththeyoungmanwhose
osebnost
personalityhadsostrangelystirredme.