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The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening Swedish A1-B2

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening Swedish A1-B2

Discover the advantages of this innovative translation method, designed to cater to your learning needs. You can select your preferred difficulty level, ensuring a well-balanced challenge that isn't too overwhelming. This technique sharpens your comprehension skills by encouraging you to derive meaning from context, minimizing the need for direct translations. While some words are purposefully obscured to promote contextual guessing, looking up unclear terms is always an option. With this method, language learning becomes both accessible and enjoyable, blending challenge with support. Explore translated classics and experience the excitement of learning through literature.

THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorof
vackra
beautifulthings.
Torevealart
och
andconcealtheartistisart’s
mål
aim.
Thecriticishewho
kan
cantranslateintoanothermanner
eller
oranewmaterialhis
intryck
impressionofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestas
den
thelowestformofcriticismis
ett
amodeofautobiography.
Thosewho
hittar
finduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
korrupta
corruptwithoutbeingcharming.
Thisis
ett
afault.
Thosewhofind
vackra
beautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
de
thecultivated.
Forthesethereis
hopp
hope.
Theyaretheelecttowhom
vackra
beautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.
Thereis
ingen
nosuchthingasa
moralisk
moraloranimmoralbook.
Booksarewellwritten,
eller
orbadlywritten.
Thatis
allt
all.
Thenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismisthe
raseri
rageofCalibanseeinghis
eget
ownfaceinaglass.
Thenineteenth
talet
centurydislikeofromanticismisthe
raseri
rageofCalibannotseeinghis
eget
ownfaceinaglass.
Den
Themorallifeofmanformspartof
den
thesubject-matteroftheartist,
men
butthemoralityofartconsistsin
den
theperfectuseofanimperfect
medium
medium.
Noartistdesiresto
bevisa
proveanything.
Eventhingsthatare
sanna
truecanbeproved.
No
konstnär
artisthasethicalsympathies.
An
etisk
ethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismof
stil
style.
Noartistisever
sjuklig
morbid.
Theartistcanexpress
allt
everything.
Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsof
ett
anart.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsforan
konst
art.
Fromthepointofviewofform,the
typen
typeofalltheartsisthe
konst
artofthemusician.
Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’s
hantverk
craftisthetype.
All
konst
artisatoncesurface
och
andsymbol.
Thosewhogobeneaththe
ytan
surfacedosoattheirperil.
Thosewho
läser
readthesymboldosoattheirperil.
Itis
det
thespectator,andnotlife,
som
thatartreallymirrors.
Diversityofopinionabout
ett
aworkofartshows
att
thattheworkisnew,complex,
och
andvital.
Whencriticsdisagree,theartistisinaccord
med
withhimself.
Wecanforgive
en
amanformakinga
användbar
usefulthingaslongashe
göra
doesnotadmireit.
The
enda
onlyexcuseformakinga
värdelös
uselessthingisthatone
beundrar
admiresitintensely.
Allartis
helt
quiteuseless.
CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththe
rika
richodourofroses,and
när
whenthelightsummerwind
rörde
stirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,there
kom
camethroughtheopendoorthe
tunga
heavyscentofthelilac,
eller
orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-flowering
taggen
thorn.
Fromthecornerof
de
thedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewas
låg
lying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,
Lord
LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatch
de
thegleamofthehoney-sweet
och
andhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,
vars
whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyableto
bära
beartheburdenofa
skönhet
beautysoflamelikeastheirs;
och
andnowandthenthe
fantastiska
fantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflitted
över
acrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthehuge
fönstret
window,producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,
och
andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,
genom
throughthemediumofan
konst
artthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seekto
förmedla
conveythesenseofswiftness
och
andmotion.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirway
genom
throughthelongunmowngrass,
eller
orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthe
dammiga
dustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,
tycktes
seemedtomakethestillness
mer
moreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteof
en
adistantorgan.
Inthe
mitten
centreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,
stod
stoodthefull-lengthportraitof
en
ayoungmanofextraordinary
personlig
personalbeauty,andinfrontofit,
några
somelittledistanceaway,was
satt
sittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,
vars
whosesuddendisappearancesomeyears
sedan
agocaused,atthetime,
sådan
suchpublicexcitementandgave
upphov
risetosomanystrangeconjectures.
As
den
thepainterlookedatthegracious
och
andcomelyformhehadsoskilfully
speglat
mirroredinhisart,a
leende
smileofpleasurepassedacrosshis
ansikte
face,andseemedaboutto
dröja
lingerthere.
Buthesuddenly
började
startedup,andclosinghiseyes,
placerade
placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhis
hjärna
brainsomecuriousdreamfromwhichhe
fruktade
fearedhemightawake.
“Itisyour
bästa
bestwork,Basil,thebestthingyou
har
haveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“You
måste
mustcertainlysenditnext
år
yeartotheGrosvenor.
The
Akademin
Academyistoolargeand
för
toovulgar.
WheneverIhavegonethere,there
har
havebeeneithersomany
människor
peoplethatIhavenotbeenableto
se
seethepictures,whichwasdreadful,
eller
orsomanypicturesthatI
har
havenotbeenableto
se
seethepeople,whichwas
värre
worse.
TheGrosvenorisreally
det
theonlyplace.”
“Idon’t
tror
thinkIshallsenditanywhere,”he
svarade
answered,tossinghisheadbackinthatodd
sättet
waythatusedtomakehisfriends
skratta
laughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’t
skickar
senditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
och
andlookedathiminamazement
genom
throughthethinbluewreathsof
rök
smokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhis
tunga
heavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsendit
någonstans
anywhere?
Mydearfellow,why?
Har
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupainters
är
are!
Youdoanythingintheworldto
få
gainareputation.
Assoonasyou
har
haveone,youseemtowantto
kasta
throwitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereis
bara
onlyonethinginthe
världen
worldworsethanbeingtalkedabout,
och
andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.
Ett
Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyoufar
över
abovealltheyoungmeninEngland,
och
andmaketheoldmen
ganska
quitejealous,ifoldmenareevercapableof
någon
anyemotion.”
“Iknowyou
kommer
willlaughatme,”he
svarade
replied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.
I
har
haveputtoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
Lord
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivan
och
andlaughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
men
butitisquitetrue,all
det
thesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfin
den
it!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’t
visste
knowyouweresovain;
och
andIreallycan’tsee
någon
anyresemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedstrong
ansikte
faceandyourcoal-blackhair,
och
andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmade
ut
outofivoryandrose-leaves.
Varför
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
och
andyou—well,ofcourseyou
har
haveanintellectualexpressionand
allt
allthat.
Butbeauty,real
skönhet
beauty,endswhereanintellectual
uttryck
expressionbegins.
Intellectisinitself
ett
amodeofexaggeration,and
förstör
destroystheharmonyofanyface.
Det
Themomentonesitsdownto
tänka
think,onebecomesallnose,
eller
orallforehead,orsomethinghorrid.
Titta
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyof
de
thelearnedprofessions.
Howperfectlyhideousthey
är
are!
Except,ofcourse,inthe
Kyrkan
Church.
Buttheninthe
Kyrkan
Churchtheydon’tthink.
A
biskop
bishopkeepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewas
säga
toldtosaywhenhewas
en
aboyofeighteen,andas
en
anaturalconsequencehealways
ser
looksabsolutelydelightful.
Yourmysterious
unga
youngfriend,whosenameyou
har
havenevertoldme,but
vars
whosepicturereallyfascinatesme,
aldrig
neverthinks.
Ifeelquite
säker
sureofthat.
Heis
några
somebrainlessbeautifulcreaturewho
borde
shouldbealwaysherein
vintern
winterwhenwehavenoflowersto
titta
lookat,andalwaysherein
sommaren
summerwhenwewantsomethingto
kyler
chillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotin
det
theleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’t
förstår
understandme,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnotlikehim.
I
vet
knowthatperfectlywell.
Indeed,Ishouldbe
synd
sorrytolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iam
säger
tellingyouthetruth.
Thereis
en
afatalityaboutallphysical
och
andintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatality
som
thatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itis
bättre
betternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
The
fula
uglyandthestupidhavethe
bästa
bestofitinthis
världen
world.
Theycansitattheirease
och
andgapeattheplay.
Ifthey
vet
knownothingofvictory,theyareat
åtminstone
leastsparedtheknowledgeof
nederlag
defeat.
Theyliveasweall
borde
shouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,andwithoutdisquiet.
They
varken
neitherbringruinuponothers,
eller
noreverreceiveitfrom
främmande
alienhands.
Yourrankand
rikedom
wealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—my
konst
art,whateveritmaybe
värt
worth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshallall
lida
sufferforwhatthegods
har
havegivenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
frågade
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudio
mot
towardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishis
namn
name.
Ididn’tintendto
berätta
tellittoyou.”
“But
varför
whynot?”
“Oh,Ican’t
förklara
explain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,I
aldrig
nevertelltheirnamesto
någon
anyone.
Itislikesurrendering
en
apartofthem.
I
har
havegrowntolovesecrecy.
It
verkar
seemstobetheonething
som
thatcanmakemodernlifemysterious
eller
ormarvelloustous.
Thecommonestthingisdelightfulif
man
oneonlyhidesit.
WhenI
lämnar
leavetownnowInever
berättar
tellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.
IfI
gjorde
did,Iwouldloseallmy
njutning
pleasure.
Itisasilly
vana
habit,Idaresay,but
något
somehowitseemstobring
en
agreatdealofromanceintoone’s
liv
life.
Isupposeyouthinkme
hemskt
awfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”
svarade
answeredLordHenry,“notatall,my
käre
dearBasil.
Youseemto
glömma
forgetthatIammarried,
och
andtheonecharmofmarriageisthatit
gör
makesalifeofdeception
absolut
absolutelynecessaryforbothparties.
I
aldrig
neverknowwheremywife
är
is,andmywifenever
vet
knowswhatIamdoing.
När
Whenwemeet—wedomeet
ibland
occasionally,whenwedineout
tillsammans
together,orgodownto
de
theDuke’s—wetelleachother
de
themostabsurdstorieswith
de
themostseriousfaces.
My
fru
wifeisverygoodatit—much
bättre
better,infact,thanIam.
She
aldrig
nevergetsconfusedoverherdates,
och
andIalwaysdo.
But
när
whenshedoesfindmeout,she
gör
makesnorowatall.
I
ibland
sometimeswishshewould;
butshe
bara
merelylaughsatme.”
“I
hatar
hatethewayyoutalkaboutyourmarried
liv
life,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strolling
mot
towardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.
“I
tror
believethatyouarereally
en
averygoodhusband,but
att
thatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyour
egna
ownvirtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
You
aldrig
neversayamoralthing,
och
andyouneverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismis
helt enkelt
simplyapose.”
“Beingnaturalis
helt enkelt
simplyapose,andthe
mest
mostirritatingposeIknow,”cried
Lord
LordHenry,laughing;
andthe
två
twoyoungmenwentoutinto
de
thegardentogetherandensconcedthemselveson
en
alongbambooseatthat
stod
stoodintheshadeof
en
atalllaurelbush.
Thesunlight
glider
slippedoverthepolishedleaves.
Inthe
gräset
grass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
After
en
apause,LordHenrypulledouthis
klocka
watch.
“IamafraidI
måste
mustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“and
innan
beforeIgo,Iinsistonyour
svarar
answeringaquestionIputtoyousome
tid
timeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
sa
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.
“You
vet
knowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwill
berätta
tellyouwhatitis.
I
vill
wantyoutoexplaintome
varför
whyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’s
bild
picture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“I
berättade
toldyoutherealreason.”
“No,you
gjorde
didnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewas
för
toomuchofyourselfin
den
it.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”
sa
saidBasilHallward,lookinghim
rakt
straightintheface,“every
porträtt
portraitthatispaintedwithfeelingis
ett
aportraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
Thesitteris
bara
merelytheaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothewhoisrevealedby
det
thepainter;
itisratherthepainterwho,onthe
färgade
colouredcanvas,revealshimself.
ThereasonI
kommer
willnotexhibitthispictureis
att
thatIamafraidthatI
har
haveshowninitthesecretofmy
egen
ownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
he
frågade
asked.
“Iwilltellyou,”
sa
saidHallward;
butanexpressionofperplexity
kom
cameoverhisface.
“Iamall
förväntan
expectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingat
honom
him.
“Oh,thereisreally
väldigt
verylittletotell,Harry,”
svarade
answeredthepainter;
“andIam
rädd
afraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Kanske
Perhapsyouwillhardlybelieveit.”
Lord
LordHenrysmiled,andleaning
ner
down,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfrom
det
thegrassandexaminedit.
“Iam
helt
quitesureIshallunderstandit,”he
svarade
replied,gazingintentlyatthe
lilla
littlegolden,white-feathereddisk,“andasfor
tro
believingthings,Icanbelieve
allt
anything,providedthatitis
helt
quiteincredible.”
Thewindshook
några
someblossomsfromthetrees,
och
andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,
flyttade
movedtoandfrointhelanguid
luft
air.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythe
väggen
wall,andlikeablue
tråd
threadalongthindragon-fly
flöt
floatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
Lord
LordHenryfeltasifhecould
höra
hearBasilHallward’sheartbeating,
och
andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryis
helt enkelt
simplythis,”saidthepainteraftersome
tid
time.
“TwomonthsagoI
gick
wenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
You
vet
knowwepoorartistshaveto
visa
showourselvesinsocietyfrom
tid
timetotime,justto
påminna
remindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Med
Withaneveningcoatanda
vit
whitetie,asyoutoldme
en gång
once,anybody,evenastock-broker,
kan
cangainareputationforbeing
civiliserad
civilized.
Well,afterIhadbeeninthe
rummet
roomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagers
och
andtediousacademicians,Isuddenly
blev
becameconsciousthatsomeonewas
tittade
lookingatme.
Iturned
halvvägs
half-wayroundandsawDorianGrayforthe
första
firsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,I
kände
feltthatIwasgrowing
blek
pale.
Acurioussensationof
skräck
terrorcameoverme.
I
visste
knewthatIhadcome
ansikte
facetofacewithsomeone
vars
whosemerepersonalitywasso
fascinerande
fascinatingthat,ifIalloweditto
göra
doso,itwouldabsorbmywhole
natur
nature,mywholesoul,myvery
konst
artitself.
Ididnotwant
något
anyexternalinfluenceinmy
liv
life.
Youknowyourself,Harry,
hur
howindependentIambynature.
I
har
havealwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hade
hadatleastalwaysbeenso,tillI
träffade
metDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’t
vet
knowhowtoexplainittoyou.
Något
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasonthevergeof
en
aterriblecrisisinmy
liv
life.
Ihadastrangefeeling
att
thatfatehadinstoreforme
utsökta
exquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows.
Igrew
rädd
afraidandturnedtoquitthe
rummet
room.
Itwasnotconsciencethat
göra
mademedoso:
itwas
en
asortofcowardice.
I
tar
takenocredittomyselffor
försökte
tryingtoescape.”
“Conscienceand
feghet
cowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’t
tror
believethat,Harry,andIdon’t
tror
believeyoudoeither.
However,
vad
whateverwasmymotive—andit
kan
mayhavebeenpride,forI
brukade
usedtobeveryproud—Icertainly
kämpade
struggledtothedoor.
There,ofcourse,I
snubblade
stumbledagainstLadyBrandon.
‘Youarenotgoingto
springa
runawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’she
skrek
screamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheis
en
apeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”
sa
saidLordHenry,pullingthe
daisy
daisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.
“I
kunde
couldnotgetridof
henne
her.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
och
andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,
och
andelderlyladieswithgigantictiaras
och
andparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearest
vän
friend.
Ihadonlymether
en gång
oncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionizeme.
I
tror
believesomepictureofminehadmadea
stor
greatsuccessatthetime,at
åtminstone
leasthadbeenchatteredaboutin
den
thepennynewspapers,whichis
den
thenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
Plötsligt
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffaceto
ansikte
facewiththeyoungman
vars
whosepersonalityhadsostrangely
rört
stirredme.