From Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak -rus-eng parallel text-mp3 podcast - Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги

 

Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги
Russian-English Audiobooks-VK Playlist
Get the pdf transcripts for rus-eng podcasts
 at Interculturalruen.mave.digital
Rus-eng audio podcast
https://vk.com/interculturalruen?w=wall-8630238_2662
https://disk.yandex.ru/d/PSy8sU8sv7Mx9
https://interculturalruen.mave.digital/ep-151

Doctor Zhivago ( Russian: До́ктор Жива́го is a novel by Boris Pasternak, first published in 1957 in Italy. The novel is named after its protagonist, Yuri Zhivago, a physician and poet, and takes place between the Russian Revolution of 1905 and World War II.

Imperial Russia, 1902.[5] The novel opens during a Russian Orthodox funeral liturgy, or panikhida, for Yuri's mother, Marya Nikolaevna Zhivago. Having long ago been abandoned by his father, Yuri is taken in by his maternal uncle, Nikolai Nikolaevich Vedenyapin, a philosopher and former Orthodox priest who now works for the publisher of a progressive newspaper in a provincial capital on the Volga River. Yuri's father, Andrei Zhivago, was once a wealthy member of Moscow's merchant gentry, but has squandered the family's fortune in Siberia through debauchery and carousing.

The next summer, Yuri (who is 11 years old) and Nikolai Nikolaevich travel to Duplyanka, the estate of Lavrenty Mikhailovich Kologrivov, a wealthy silk merchant. They are there not to visit Kologrivov, who is abroad with his wife, but to visit a mutual friend, Ivan Ivanovich Voskoboinikov, an intellectual who lives in the steward's cottage.[6] Kologrivov's daughters, Nadya (who is 15 years old) and Lipa (who is younger), are also living at the estate with a governess and servants. Innokenty (Nika) Dudorov, a 13-year-old boy who is the son of a convicted terrorist has been placed with Ivan Ivanovich by his mother and lives with him in the cottage. As Nikolai Nikolaevich and Ivan Ivanovich are strolling in the garden and discussing philosophy, they notice that a train passing in the distance has come to a stop in an unexpected place, indicating that something is wrong. On the train, an 11-year-old boy named Misha Grigorievich Gordon is traveling with his father. They have been on the train for three days. During that time, a kind man had given Misha small gifts and had talked for hours with his father, Grigory Osipovich Gordon. However, encouraged by his attorney, who was traveling with him, the man had become drunk. Eventually, the man had rushed to the vestibule of the moving train car, pushed aside the boy's father, opened the door and thrown himself out, killing himself. Misha's father had then pulled the emergency brake, bringing the train to a halt. The passengers disembark and view the corpse while the police are called. The deceased's lawyer stands near the body and blames the suicide on alcoholism.

From War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy - Pierre after the execution - rus-eng parallel text- mp3- podcast - Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги

Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги
Russian-English Audiobooks-VK Playlist
Get the pdf transcripts for rus-eng podcasts
 at Interculturalruen.mave.digital
Купить все мои русско-английские подкасты- скачать mp3+pdf-txt-doc-источники
Rus-eng audio podcast
https://vk.com/interculturalruen?w=wall-8630238_2646
https://interculturalruen.mave.digital/ep-150

War and Peace (Russian: Война и мир, romanized: Voyna i mir; pre-reform Russian: Война и миръ; [vɐjˈna i ˈmʲir]) is a literary work mixed with chapters on history and philosophy by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy. It was first published serially, then published in its entirety in 1869. It is regarded as one of Tolstoy's finest literary achievements and remains an internationally praised classic of world literature

Pierre  is taken prisoner by the French army. He believes he will be executed, but in the end is spared. He witnesses, with horror, the execution of other prisoners.
Pierre becomes friends with a fellow prisoner, Platon Karataev, a Russian peasant with a saintly demeanor. In Karataev, Pierre finally finds what he has been seeking: an honest person of integrity, who is utterly without pretense. Pierre discovers meaning in life simply by interacting with him.
***
From the moment when Pierre saw this horrible murder performed by people who did not want to do it, it was as if the spring that upheld everything and made it seem alive had been pulled from his soul, and it had all collapsed into a heap of meaningless trash. Though he did not account for it to himself, his faith in the world’s good order, in humanity’s and his own soul, and in God, was destroyed. Pierre had experienced this state before, but never with such force as now. Before, when doubts of this sort had come over Pierre, those doubts had had their source in his own guilt. And deep in his soul, Pierre had felt then that salvation from that despair and those doubts lay in himself. But now he felt that it was not his guilt that caused the world to collapse in front of his eyes and leave only meaningless ruins. He felt that to return to faith in life was not in his power.
***
С той минуты, как Пьер увидал это страшное убийство, совершенное людьми, не хотевшими этого делать, в душе его как будто вдруг выдернута была та пружина, на которой все держалось и представлялось живым, и все завалилось в кучу бессмысленного сора. В нем, хотя он и не отдавал себе отчета, уничтожилась вера и в благоустройство мира, и в человеческую, и в свою душу, и в бога. Это состояние было испытываемо Пьером прежде, но никогда с такою силой, как теперь. Прежде, когда на Пьера находили такого рода сомнения, — сомнения эти имели источником собственную вину. И в самой глубине души Пьер тогда чувствовал, что от того отчаяния и тех сомнений было спасение в самом себе. Но теперь он чувствовал, что не его вина была причиной того, что мир завалился в его глазах и остались одни бессмысленные развалины. Он чувствовал, что возвратиться к вере в жизнь — не в его власти.
***

From Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky - epilogue- rus-eng parallel text-mp3-podcast - Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги

Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги
Russian-English Audiobooks-VK Playlist
Get the pdf transcripts for rus-eng podcasts
 at Interculturalruen.mave.digital
Rus-eng audio podcast
https://vk.com/interculturalruen?w=wall-8630238_2636
https://interculturalruen.mave.digital/ep-149

Crime and Punishment (pre-reform Russian: Преступленіе и наказаніе; post-reform Russian: Преступление и наказание, tr. Prestupléniye i nakazániye is a novel by the Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky. 
Epilogue-Sonya follows Raskolnikov to Siberia, but he is initially hostile towards her as he is still struggling to acknowledge moral culpability for his crime, feeling himself to be guilty only of weakness. It is only after some time in prison that his redemption and moral regeneration begin under Sonya's loving influence.

He lay in the hospital all through the end of Lent and Holy Week. As he began to recover, he remembered his dreams from when he was still lying in feverish delirium. In his illness he had dreamed that the whole world was doomed to fall victim to some terrible, as yet unknown and unseen pestilence spreading to Europe from the depths of Asia. Everyone was to perish, except for certain, very few, chosen ones. Some new trichinae had appeared, microscopic creatures that lodged themselves in men's bodies. But these creatures were spirits, endowed with reason and will. Those who received them into themselves immediately became possessed and mad. But never, never had people considered themselves so intelligent and unshakeable in the truth as did these infected ones. Never had they thought their judgments, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions and beliefs more unshakeable. Entire settlements, entire cities and nations would be infected and go mad. Everyone became anxious, and no one understood anyone else; each thought the truth was contained in himself alone, and suffered looking at others, beat his breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know whom or how to judge, could not agree on what to regard as evil, what as good. They did not know whom to accuse, whom to vindicate. People killed each other in some sort of meaningless spite. They gathered into whole armies against each other, but, already on the march, the armies would suddenly begin destroying themselves, the ranks would break up, the soldiers would fall upon one another, stabbing and cutting, biting and eating one another. In the cities the bells rang all day long: everyone was being summoned, but no one knew who was summoning them or why, and everyone felt anxious. The most ordinary trades ceased, because everyone offered his own ideas, his own corrections, and no one could agree. Agriculture ceased. Here and there people would band together, agree among themselves to do something, swear never to part—but immediately begin something completely different from what they themselves had just suggested, begin accusing one another, fighting, stabbing. Fires broke out; famine broke out. Everyone and everything was perishing. The pestilence grew and spread further and further. Only a few people in the whole world could be saved; they were pure and chosen, destined to begin a new generation of people and a new life, to renew and purify the earth; but no one had seen these people anywhere, no one had heard their words or voices.

Он пролежал в больнице весь конец поста и Святую. Уже выздоравливая, он припомнил свои сны, когда еще лежал в жару и бреду. Ему грезилось в болезни, будто весь мир осужден в жертву какой-то страшной, неслыханной и невиданной моровой язве, идущей из глубины Азии на Европу. Все должны были погибнуть, кроме некоторых, весьма немногих, избранных. Появились какие-то новые трихины, существа микроскопические, вселявшиеся в тела людей. Но эти существа были духи, одаренные умом и волей. Люди, принявшие их в себя, становились тотчас же бесноватыми и сумасшедшими. Но никогда, никогда люди не считали себя так умными и непоколебимыми в истине, как считали зараженные. Никогда не считали непоколебимее своих приговоров, своих научных выводов, своих нравственных убеждений и верований. Целые селения, целые города и народы заражались и сумасшествовали. Все были в тревоге и не понимали друг друга, всякий думал, что в нем в одном и заключается истина, и мучился, глядя на других, бил себя в грудь, плакал и ломал себе руки. Не знали, кого и как судить, не могли согласиться, что считать злом, что добром. Не знали, кого обвинять, кого оправдывать. Люди убивали друг друга в какой-то бессмысленной злобе. Собирались друг на друга целыми армиями, но армии, уже в походе, вдруг начинали сами терзать себя, ряды расстраивались, воины бросались друг на друга, кололись и резались, кусали и ели друг друга. В городах целый день били в набат: созывали всех, но кто и для чего зовет, никто не знал того, а все были в тревоге. Оставили самые обыкновенные ремесла, потому что всякий предлагал свои мысли, свои поправки, и не могли согласиться; остановилось земледелие. Кое-где люди сбегались в кучи, соглашались вместе на что-нибудь, клялись не расставаться, — но тотчас же начинали что-нибудь совершенно другое, чем сейчас же сами предполагали, начинали обвинять друг друга, дрались и резались. Начались пожары, начался голод. Все и всё погибало. Язва росла и подвигалась дальше и дальше. Спастись во всем мире могли только несколько человек, это были чистые и избранные, предназначенные начать новый род людей и новую жизнь, обновить и очистить землю, но никто и нигде не видал этих людей, никто не слыхал их слова и голоса.

From Notes from Underground by Dostoevsky-rus-eng-mp3-podcast - Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги

 

Русско-английские mp3 разговорники и аудиокниги
Russian-English Audiobooks-VK Playlist
Get the pdf transcripts for rus-eng podcasts
 at Interculturalruen.mave.digital
Rus-eng audio podcast
https://vk.com/interculturalruen?w=wall-8630238_2633

Notes from Underground (pre-reform Russian: Записки изъ подполья; post-reform Russian: Записки из подполья, Zapíski iz podpólʹya; also translated as Notes from the Underground or Letters from the Underworld) is a novella written in 1864 by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and is considered by many to be one of the first existentialist novels.The novella presents itself as an excerpt from the rambling memoirs of a bitter, isolated, unnamed narrator (generally referred to by critics as the Underground Man), who is a retired civil servant living in St. Petersburg. The first part of the story is told in monologue form through the Underground Man's diary

Несчастная мышь кроме одной первоначальной гадости успела уже нагородить кругом себя, в виде вопросов и сомнений, столько других гадостей; к одному вопросу подвела столько неразрешенных вопросов, что поневоле кругом нее набирается какая-то роковая бурда, какая-то вонючая грязь, состоящая из ее сомнений, волнений и, наконец, из плевков, сыплющихся на нее от непосредственных деятелей, предстоящих торжественно кругом в виде судей и диктаторов и хохочущих над нею во всю здоровую глотку. Разумеется, ей остается махнуть на все своей лапкой и с улыбкой напускного презренья, которому и сама она не верит, постыдно проскользнуть в свою щелочку. Там, в своем мерзком, вонючем подполье, наша обиженная, прибитая и осмеянная мышь немедленно погружается в холодную, ядовитую и, главное, вековечную злость. Сорок лет сряду будет припоминать до последних, самых постыдных подробностей свою обиду и при этом каждый раз прибавлять от себя подробности еще постыднейшие, злобно поддразнивая и раздражая себя собственной фантазией. Сама будет стыдиться своей фантазии, но все-таки все припомнит, все переберет, навыдумает на себя небывальщины, под предлогом, что она тоже могла случиться, и ничего не простит. Пожалуй, и мстить начнет, но как-нибудь урывками, мелочами, из-за печки, инкогнито, не веря ни своему праву мстить, ни успеху своего мщения и зная наперед, что от всех своих попыток отомстить сама выстрадает во сто раз больше того, кому мстит, а тот, пожалуй, и не почешется. На смертном одре опять-таки все припомнит, с накопившимися за все время процентами и… Но именно вот в этом холодном, омерзительном полуотчаянии, полувере, в этом сознательном погребении самого себя заживо с горя, в подполье на сорок лет, в этой усиленно созданной и все-таки отчасти сомнительной безвыходности своего положения, во всем этом яде неудовлетворенных желаний, вошедших внутрь, во всей этой лихорадке колебаний, принятых навеки решений и через минуту опять наступающих раскаяний — и заключается сок того странного наслаждения, о котором я говорил.
 The wretched mouse, in addition to the one original nastiness, has already managed to fence itself about with so many other nastinesses in the form of questions and doubts; it has padded out the one question with so many unresolved questions that, willy-nilly, some fatal slops have accumulated around it, some stinking filth consisting of its dubieties, anxieties, and, finally, of the spit raining on it from the ingenuous figures who stand solemnly around it like judges and dictators, guffawing at it from all their healthy gullets. Of course, nothing remains for it but to wave the whole thing aside with its little paw and, with a smile of feigned contempt, in which it does not believe itself, slip back shamefacedly into its crack. There, in its loathsome, stinking underground, our offended, beaten-down, and derided mouse at once immerses itself in cold, venomous, and, above all, everlasting spite. For forty years on end it will recall its offense to the last, most shameful details, each time adding even more shameful details of its own, spitefully taunting and chafing itself with its fantasies. It will be ashamed of its fantasies, but all the same it will recall everything, go over everything, heap all sorts of figments on itself, under the pretext that they, too, could have happened, and forgive nothing. It may even begin to take revenge, but somehow in snatches, with piddling things, from behind the stove, incognito, believing neither in its right to revenge itself nor in the success of its vengeance, and knowing beforehand that it will suffer a hundred times more from all its attempts at revenge than will the object of its vengeance, who will perhaps not even scratch at the bite. On its deathbed it will again recall everything, adding the interest accumulated over all that time, and… But it is precisely in this cold, loathsome half-despair, half-belief, in this conscious burying oneself alive from grief for forty years in the underground, in this assiduously produced and yet somewhat dubious hopelessness of one's position, in all this poison of unsatisfied desires penetrating inward, in all this fever of hesitations, of decisions taken forever, and repentances coming again a moment later, that the very sap of that strange pleasure I was talking about consists.