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English to Indonesian: Charlotte's Web By E.B. White General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English CHAPTER 1
Before Breakfast
Charlotte's web“Where’s Papa going with that ax?” said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.
“Out to the hog house,” replied Mrs. Arable. “Some pigs were born last night.”
“I don’t see why he needs an ax,” continued Fern, who was only eight.
“Well,” said her mother, “one of the pigs is a runt. It’s very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything. So your father has decided to do away with it.”
“Do away with it?” shrieked Fern. “You mean kill it? Just because it’s smaller than the others?”
Mrs. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. “Don’t yell, Fern!”
she said. “Your father is right. The pig would probably die anyway.”
Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. Fern’s sneakers were sopping by the time she caught up with her father.
“Please don’t kill it!” she sobbed. “It’s unfair.”
Mr. Arable stopped walking.
“Fern,” he said gently, “you will have to learn to control yourself.”
“Control myself?” yelled Fern. “This is a matter of life and death, and you talk about “controlling myself.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she took hold of the ax and tried to pull it out of her father’s hand.
“Fern,” said Mr. Arable, “I know more about raising a litter of pigs than you do. A weakling makes trouble. Now run along!”
“But it’s unfair,” cried Fern. “The pig couldn’t help being born small, could it? If I had been very small at birth, would you have killed me?”
Mr. Arable smiled. “Certainly not,” he said, looking down at his daughter with love. “But this is different. A little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another.”
“I see no difference,” replied Fern, still hanging on to the ax. “This is the most terrible case of injustice I ever heard of.”
A queer look came over John Arable’s face. He seemed almost ready to cry himself.
“All right,” he said. “You go back to the house and I will bring the runt when I come in. I’ll let you start it on a bottle, like a baby. Then you’ll see what trouble a pig can be.”
When Mr. Arable returned to the house half an hour later, he carried a carton under his arm. Fern was upstairs changing her sneakers. The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.
“Put it on her chair!” said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arable set the carton down at Fern’s place. Then he walked to the sink and washed his hands and dried them on the roller towel.
Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were red from crying. As she approached her chair, the carton wobbled, and there was a scratching noise. Fern looked at her father. Then she lifted the lid of the carton. There, inside, looking up at her, was the newborn pig. It was a white one. The morning light shone through its ears, turning them pink.
“He’s yours,” said Mr. Arable. “Saved from an untimely death. And may the good Lord forgive me for this foolishness.”
Fern couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny pig. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, look at him! He’s absolutely perfect.”
She closed the carton carefully. First she kissed her father, then she kissed her mother. Then she opened the lid again, lifted the pig out, and held it against her cheek. At this moment her brother Avery came into the room. Avery was ten.
He was heavily armed – an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.
“What’s that?” he demanded. “What’s Fern got?”
“She’s got a guest for breakfast,” said Mrs. Arable. “Wash your hands and face, Avery!”
“Let’s see it!” said Avery, setting his gun down. “You call that miserable thing a pig? That’s a fine specimen of a pig, it’s no bigger than a white rat.”
“Wash up and eat your breakfast, Avery!” said his mother. “The school bus will be along in half an hour.”
“Can I have a pig, too, Pop?” asked Avery.
“No, I only distribute pigs to early risers,” said Mr. Arable. “Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly. Let’s eat!”
But Fern couldn’t eat until her pig had had a drink of milk.
Mrs. Arable found a baby’s nursing bottle and a rubber nipple. She poured warm milk into the bottle, fitted the nipple over the top, and handed it to Fern. “Give him his breakfast!” she said.
A minute later, Fern was seated on the floor in the corner of the kitchen with her infant between her knees, teaching it to suck from the bottle. The pig, although tiny, had a good appetite and caught on quickly.
The school bus honked from the road.
“Run!” commanded Mrs. Arable, taking the pig from Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand. Avery grabbed his gun and another doughnut.
The children ran out to the road and climbed into the bus. Fern took no notice of the others in the bus. She just sat and stared out of the window, thinking what a blissful world it was and how lucky she was to have entire charge of a pig. By the time the bus reached school, Fern had named her pet, selecting the most beautiful name she could think of.
“Its name is Wilbur,” she whispered to herself.
She was still thinking about the pig when the teacher said: “Fern, what is the capital of Pennsylvania?”
“Wilbur,” replied Fern, dreamily. The pupils giggled. Fern blushed.
Translation - Indonesian Bab 1
Sebelum Sarapan
“Papa mau ke mana bawa kapak?” tanya Fern kepada ibunya saat mereka menata meja untuk sarapan.
“Ke kandang babi,” jawab Bu Arable. “Ada babi lahir semalam.”
“Aku tak mengerti mengapa Papa perlu kapak,” lanjut Fern, yang baru berumur delapan tahun.
“Babinya katai, Nak. Sangat kecil dan lemah. Tidak akan pernah laku dijual. Jadi, ayahmu memutuskan untuk membereskannya,” kata ibunya
“Membereskannya?” pekik Fern. “Maksud Mama, Papa mau membunuhnya? Hanya karena ia lebih kecil dari yang lainnya?”
Bu Arable menaruh satu kendi krim di atas meja. “Jangan berteriak, Fern!” katanya. “Ayahmu benar. Babi itu toh mungkin akan mati juga.”
Fern mendorong kursi yang menghalanginya dan berlari ke luar. Rumputnya basah, tanahnya menguarkan bau musim semi. Sepatu Fern basah kuyup ketika ia menyejajari langkah ayahnya.
“Kumohon jangan membunuhnya!” kata gadis kecil itu sambil terisak-isak. “Kejam!”
Pak Arable berhenti berjalan menghentikan langkahnya.
“Fern,” katanya dengan lembut, “kau harus belajar mengendalikan dirimu sendiri.”
“Mengendalikan diri sendiri?” pekik Fern. “Ini perkara hidup dan mati, tapi Papa malah bicara mengendalikan diri sendiri.’ ” Air mata mengaliri pipi Fern. Segera ia memegang kapak itu, lalu mencoba menariknya dari tangan ayahnya.
“Fern,” kata Pak Arable. “Aku lebih tahu tentang cara membesarkan babi. Babi yang lemah hanya bikin masalah saja. Sekarang pergilah!”
“Tapi ini kejam, Papa!” jerit Fern. “Babi itu tidak mau terlahir kecil, kan? Kalau aku sangat kecil sewaktu lahir, apakah Papa akan menyuruh orang untuk membunuhku?”
Pak Arable tersenyum. “Tentu saja tidak,” katanya, sambil menunduk memandang putrinya dangan penuh kasih sayang. “Tapi ini beda. Kamu dan babi adalah dua hal yang berbeda.”
“Aku tak melihat perbedaannya,” jawab Fern, sambil masih sambil memegang kapak. “Ini kasus kekejaman paling mengerikan yang pernah kudengar.”
Air muka ganjil melintasi wajah John Arable. Ia sendiri tampak nyaris menangis.
“Baiklah,” katanya. “Kembalilah ke rumah dan aku akan bawa si katai itu kalau pulang nanti. Aku membolehkan kamu memberinya susu di botol, seperti bayi. Nanti kau akan tahu, babi itu pasti sangat menyusahkan.”
Setengah jam kemudian, Pak Arable pulang ke rumah sambil mengempit kardus. Fern sedang berada di atas, mengganti sepatunya. Meja dapur sudah ditata untuk sarapan. Aroma kopi, danging asin, plester lembap, dan asap kayu dari tungku memenuhi ruangan.
“Taruh di kursi!” kata Bu Arable. Pak Arable meletakkan kardusnya di kursi Fern. Kemudian, ia berjalan ke tempat cuci piring untuk membasuh tangan dan mengeringkannya dengan handuk tangan di gantungan.
Fern menuruni tangga perlahan-lahan. Matanya merah karena menangis. Saat mendekati kursinya, kardus itu bergerak. Terdengar suara garukan di dalamnya. Fern memandang ayahnya lalu mengangkat tutup kardus. Di sana, di dalamnya, mendongak menatapnya, ada babi yang baru lahir. Warnanya putih. Sinar matahari pagi menembus telinganya, membuat warnanya jadi merah jambu.
Babi itu milikmu,” kata Pak Arable. “Ia diselamatkan dari kematian sebelum waktunya. Dan semoga Tuhan memaafkan aku atas kebodohanku ini.”
Fern tak bisa mengalihkan pandangannya dari babi kecil itu. “Oh,” bisiknya. “Oh, lihatlah! Ia benar-benar sempurna.”.
Gadis kecil itu menutup kardus dengan hati-hati. Pertama-tama, ia mencium ayahnya, lalu ibunya. Setelah itu ia membuka tutup kardus lagi, mengeluarkan si babi, menggendongnya, menempelkan hewan lemah itu ke pipinya. Tepat pada saat itu kakaknya, Avery, masuk ke ruangan. Avery berumur sepuluh tahun.
Ia membawa senjata lengkap. Senapan angin di satu tangan, belati kayu di tangan satunya.
“Apa itu?” tanyanya. “Fern mendapat apa?”
“Ia mendapat tamu untuk menemaninya sarapan,” kata Bu Arable. “Cuci tangan dan wajahmu, Avery!”
“Coba lihat!” kata Avery, sambil meletakkan senapannya. “Kau sebut makhluk menyedihkan itu babi? Itu babi yang bagus sekali, tak lebih besar daripada tikus putih.”
“Bersihkan tanganmu dan segera makan sarapanmu, Avery!” kata ibunya. “Bus sekolah datang setengah jam lagi.”
“Papa, apa aku juga bisa punya babi?” tanya Avery.
“Tidak, aku hanya memberikan babi untuk orang yang bangun pagi,” kata Pak Arable. “Fern bangun pagi-pagi sekali,. Ia berusaha mencoba membersihkan dunia dari kekejaman. Hasilnya, sekarang ia punya babi. Kecil, sih, tapi kan babi? Kalau kamu bisa bangun tidur tepat waktu, kamu pun bisa mendapat babi seperti itu. Ayo makan!”
Tapi Fern tak bisa makan sampai babinya minum susu.
Bu Arable menemukan botol susu bayi dan dot karet. Ia menuangkan susu hangat ke dalam botol, memasang dotnya, lalu memberikannya kepada Fern. “Beri ia sarapan!” katanya.
Semenit kemudian, Fern duduk di lantai di sudut dapur dengan babinya di sela kaki, mengajarkannya mengajarinya mengisap dari botol. Walau mungil, selera makan babi itu besar dan ia cepat belajar.
Bus sekolah menyalakan tuternya dari jalan.
“Larilah!” perintah Bu Arable, sambil mengambil alih si babi dari Fern dan menyelipkan donat ke tangan gadis kecil itu. Avery menyambar senapannya dan donat lain.
Anak-anak itu berlari ke jalan dan naik bus. Fern tidak memperhatikan anak-anak lain di dalam bus. Ia hanya duduk dan memandang ke luar jendela, sambil membayangkan betapa indahnya dunia ini dan betapa beruntungnya ia karena bisa mengurus babi sendiri. Pada saat bis bus sampai di sekolah, Fern sudah memberi nama bagi babi kecilnya. Sebuah nama paling indah yang ia ketahui.
“Namanya Wilbur,” bisiknya kepada diri sendiri.
Ia masih memikirkan babi itu saat gurunya berkata: “Fern, apa ibu kota Pennsylvania?”
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Bio
I am an HPI-certified translator and has for more 10 years offered English-to-Indonesian translation, review/editing, and subtitling services to domestic and global clients. A native Sundanese, I also work on English-to-Sundanese translation.
I benefit greatly from my major in librarianship at Bogor Agricultural University and over 15-year professional at the British Council Jakarta where I gained a working knowledge of business, education, human resources, market research, management, travel, and tourism terminology. Translating more than 80 books and particularly novels for Indonesian publishers attests not only my passion for literature but also to my special interest and skills. Moreover, I am familiar with market-friendly computer-assisted translation and subtitling tools such as SDL Trados, Wordfast, MemoQ, and Aegisub. This, notwithstanding, does not quench my thirst for knowledge. I am now pursuing a degree in translation studies at the Indonesia Open University.
Keywords: Fiction, novel, human resources, scorecard, management, British Council, fast service, Information and Communication Technology
