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Capitol 4
Rococin e Rococon
Chapter IV.
TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE.
Los sta su un arbor, cada ave un braso sirca la colo de la otra, e Alisia sabe cuasi direta ci es ci, car un de los ave “CIN” en brode sur sua colar, e la otra ave “CON”. “Me suposa ce cada de los ave ‘ROCO’ a la retro de sua colar,” el dise a se. They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other’s neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had “DUM” embroidered on his collar, and the other “DEE.” “I suppose they’ve each got "TWEEDLE" round at the back of the collar,” she said to herself.
Los sta tan nonmovente ce el oblida intera ce los es vivente, e el es a punto de regarda pos los per vide esce la parola “ROCO” es scriveda a la retro de cada colar, cuando el es surprendeda par un vose veninte de el con la scrive “CIN”. They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word “TWEEDLE” was written at the back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked “DUM”.
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“Si tu crede ce nos es scultas de sira,” el dise, “tu debe paia, tu sabe. On no crea scultas de sira afin on regarda los sin custa, a no grado!” “If you think we’re wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!”
“A contra,” el con la scrive “CON” ajunta, “si tu crede ce nos es vivente, tu debe parla.” “Contrariwise,” added the one marked “DEE”, “if you think we’re alive, you ought to speak.”
“Me demanda serta per vosa pardona,” es la sola cosa cual Alisia pote dise, car la parolas de un canta vea sona constante tra sua testa como la tictaca de un orolojo, e el pote apena asteni de vosi los: “I’m sure I’m very sorry,” was all Alice could say; for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she could hardly help saying them out loud:–
Rococin e Rococon
    Acorda per combate,
Car Rococon ia romp’ la son’
    De l’ clicador de l’ frate.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
    Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
    Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Un corv’ monstrin apare ja
    De negra asoluta;
La frates teme tan ce los
    Oblida la disputa.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
    As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
    They quite forgot their quarrel.
“Me sabe sur cual cosa tu pensa,” Rococin dise: “ma lo no es tal, a no grado.” “I know what you’re thinking about,” said Tweedledum: “but it isn’t so, nohow.”
“A contra,” Rococon continua, “si lo ta es tal, lo ta es cisa tal; e si lo ia ta es tal, lo ia ta es cisa tal; ma car lo no es tal, lo es no tal. Par lojica.” “Contrariwise,” continued Tweedledee, “if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.”
“Me ia es pensante,” Alisia dise multe cortes, “cual es la via la plu bon per sorti de esta bosce: lo deveni tan oscur. Vos ta dise a me, per favore?” “I was thinking,” Alice said very politely, “which is the best way out of this wood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?”
Ma la omes peti fa no plu ca regarda la un la otra e surie. But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.
Los aspeta tan esata simil a un duple grande de xicos de scola ce Alisia no pote asteni de punta sua dito a Rococin e dise “Xico Un!” They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldn’t help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying “First Boy!”
“A no grado!” Rococin esclama rapida, e clui denova sua boca con un pum. “Nohow!” Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with a snap.
“Xico Du!” Alisia dise, continuante a Rococon, an si el senti intera serta ce el va esclama sola “A contra!”, e tal el fa. “Next Boy!” said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certain he would only shout out “Contrariwise!” and so he did.
“Tu condui erante!” Rococin cria. “La taxe prima en un visita es dise ‘alo’ e fa la presa de manos.” E aora la du frates dona un abrasa lunlotra, e los estende alora la du manos cual es libre, per presa con los de Alisia. “You’ve been wrong!” cried Tweedledum. “The first thing in a visit is to say "How d’ye do?" and shake hands!” And here the two brothers gave each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to shake hands with her.
El prefere no presa prima la manos con o esta o acel de los, temente ofende la otra; donce, per solve la problem en la modo la plu bon posible, el prende ambos manos a la mesma tempo: a la momento seguente, los dansa jirante en sirculo. Esta pare multe natural (el recorda a pos), e el an no es surprendeda de oia musica juada: lo pare veni de la arbor su cual los dansa, e lo es fada (si el ta crede sua persepi de lo) par la ramos, cual frica la un contra la otra como violines e arcos. Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurting the other one’s feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they were dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.
“Ma serta lo ia es un bon diverti,” (Alisia dise a pos, cuando el nara a sua sore la raconta de tota de esta,) “cuando me ia trova me en canta Ta ce nos dansa su la morer’. Me no sabe cuando me ia comensa lo, ma en alga modo me ia senti como si me ia canta lo tra un tempo multe longa!” “But it certainly was funny,” (Alice said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of all this,) “to find myself singing ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush’. I don’t know when I began it, but somehow I felt as if I’d been singing it a long long time!”
La otra du dansores es obesa, e pronto sin aira. “Cuatro sirculis sufisi per un dansa,” Rococin dise tra respiras forte, e los sesa tan subita la dansa como los ia comensa: la musica sesa a la mesma momento. The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. “Four times round is enough for one dance,” Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment.
Aora los desteni la manos de Alisia, e sta regardante el tra un minuto: on fa un pausa alga embarasante, car Alisia no sabe como el ta comensa un conversa con persones con ci el veni de dansa. “Lo tota no ta conveni si me ta dise aora ‘alo’,” el dise a se: “lo pare ce nos ia progresa ultra acel, en alga modo!” Then they let go of Alice’s hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn’t know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. “It would never do to say ‘How d’ye do?’ now,” she said to herself: “we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!”
“Me espera ce vos no es multe fatigada?” el dise final. “I hope you’re not much tired?” she said at last.
“A no grado. E multe grasias per la demanda,” Rococin dise. “Nohow. And thank you very much for asking,” said Tweedledum.
“Tan obligada!” Rococon ajunta. “Tu gusta poesias?” “So much obliged!” added Tweedledee. “You like poetry?”
“Si–i, jeneral—alga poesias,” Alisia dise dutosa. “Esce vos ta dise a me cual curso sorti de la bosce?” “Ye-es, pretty well–some poetry,” Alice said doubtfully. “Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?”
“Cual me ta resita a el?” Rococon dise, turnante sua regarda a Rococin con oios grande e seria, e iniorante la demanda de Alisia. “What shall I repeat to her?” said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice’s question.
“‘La Morsa e la Carpentor’ es la plu longa,” Rococin responde, con un abrasa amante a sua frate. ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ is the longest,” Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.
Rococon comensa sin pausa: Tweedledee began instantly:
La sol fa brilias— The sun was shining–
Asi, Alisia osa interompe el. “Si lo es multe longa,” el dise, tan cortes como posible, “esce, per favore, tu ta dise prima a me cual curso—” Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. “If it’s very long,” she said, as politely as she could, “would you please tell me first which road–”
Rococon surie jentil, e comensa denova: Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:
La sol fa brilias sur la mar,
    Tan forte como el pote,
El vole tan ajunta lus
    E lisia a la flot’—e
Acel es strana, car lo es
    La media de la note.
The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright–
And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.
La luna brilia en mal umor,
    Car ver’ en sua opina
La sol ta debe rest’ asent’
    Ancora ast’ matina—
“El ata noncortes,” el dis’,
    “Con joia de ruina!”
The moon was shining sulkily,
    Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done–
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
    “To come and spoil the fun!”
Si tan moiada es la mar,
    Tan seca es l’ arena.
No nube es vidable, car
    No nub’ es en la sena:
No avias vola en siel’—
    Un avia apena.
The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head–
    There were no birds to fly.
La Morsa e la Carpentor
    Pase’ contente asta
Sua larmas a la vide ce
    L’ arena es tan vasta:
“On debe scopi lo,” los dis’,
    “On ave plu ca basta!”
The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
    They said, "it would be grand!"
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“Si sete bon scopores tra
    Un anio ta labora,
Tu pensa an,” la Morsa dis’,
    “Ce los ta pot’ restora?”
“Me duta lo,” la Carpentor
    Amargi con un plora.
“If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
    “That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.
“O! Ostras, acompania nos!”
    La Mors’ dis’ animada.
“Un bon esers’, un bon convers’,
    Sur plaia nos ta vada:
De l’ cuatro ci va veni prim’
    Nos don’ un man’ a cada.”
“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
    The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each.”
Un Ostra vea regarda el,
    Ma vosi no sujesta:
La Ostra vea ginia e
    Secute lent’ sua testa—
Per clari ce el va elej’
    En la ostreria resta.
The eldest Oyster looked at him.
    But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.
Ma cuatro plu jovenes fret’
    A la regal’, zelosa:
Con jacas bel’ e fases clar,
    Sapatos limp’ par brosa—
Tan strana, car los ave an
    No pedes, on suposa.
But four young oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn’t any feet.
E cuatro otras segue los,
    Ancora cuatro plu; e
Final los veni en manad’,
    Con un, con tre, con du—e
Los brinca tra la sal de mar,
    Sortinte de la flue.
Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.
La Morsa e la Carpentor
    Pasea plu ca poca;
Alora los reposa sur
    Un plata bas’ de roca:
E tota Ostras peti sta
    En linia en la loca.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.
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“La or’ es bon,” la Morsa dis’,
    “Per parla sur sapatos:
Sur barcos—e sur sir’ de sel’—
    Sur col—e res de statos—
Perce la mar es roja cald’—
    La vola de la gatos.”
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
    “To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
    Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
    And whether pigs have wings.”
“Pospone plu,” la Ostras cri’,
    “La parla; nos confesa
Ce l’ aira manca alg’ a nos,
    Ci core tro obesa!”
La Carpentor dis’: “Senta vos!”
    Los grasia: los nesesa.
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
    “Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.
“Un pan,” felis la Morsa dis’,
    “Es important’, me pensa:
Peper e la vinagra va
    Sabori tan intensa—
E si vos es ja preparad’,
    La come va comensa.”
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
    “Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed.”
“No come nos!” la Ostras cri’,
    Sentinte un asusta,
“Pos tota tal jentilia, lo
    Ta es un at’ nonjusta!”
“Un note clar,” la Morsa dis’.
    “La vista es per gusta.
“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue,
“After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said
    “Do you admire the view?
Nos joia tan ce vos ia ven’!
    E vos es tan plasente!”
La Carpentor demanda sol’
    “La pes’ de pan seguente:
Tu sordi—me demand’ a ja
    Du veses repetente!”
It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
    “Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
    I’ve had to ask you twice!”
“Lo pare trist’,” la Morsa dis’,
    “Ce, an su nosa gida,
Los va deveni enganad’,
    Pos trota tan rapida!”
La Carpentor murmura sol’
    “La bur es tro densida!”
“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
    “To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
    “The butter’s spread too thick!”
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“Me plor’ per tu,” la Morsa dis’:
    “Si, me compatia tota.”
El prende la plu grandes
    Con un larma e sanglota,
Teninte un teleta a
    Sua oios car los gota.
“I weep for you,” the Walrus said.
    “I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.
La Carpentor dis’: “Amis, vos
    Ia trota sur la costa!
Aora a la casa, si?”
    Ma no responde mostra
Se—e no strana, car la du
    Ia come cada ostra.
“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter.
    “You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
    But answer came there none–
And that was scarcely odd, because
    They’d eaten every one.
“Me prefere la Morsa,” Alisia dise: “car, vos vide, el ia compati alga la ostras povre.” “I like the Walrus best,” said Alice: “because you see he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.”
“El ia come plu ca la Carpentor, an tal,” Rococon dise. “Tu vide, el ia teni sua teleta ante se, afin la Carpentor no pote conta cuanto el prende: a contra.” “He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn’t count how many he took: contrariwise.”
“Acel ia es avar!” Alisia dise ofendeda. “Alora me prefere la Carpentor—si el no ia come tan multe como la Morsa.” “That was mean!” Alice said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter best–if he didn’t eat so many as the Walrus.”
“Ma el ia come tan multe como posible,” Rococin dise. “But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum.
Esta es un rompetesta. Pos un pausa, Alisia comensa, “Vide! ambos de los ia es carateres multe desplasente—” Aora el para, alga alarmada, car el oia alga cosa cual sona a el como la soflas de un locomotiva grande de vapor en la bosce, prosima a los, an si el teme ce lo es plu probable un bestia savaje. “Esce on ave leones o tigres en esta parte?” el demanda timida. This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, “Well! They were both very unpleasant characters–” Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. “Are there any lions or tigers about here?” she asked timidly.
“Lo es mera la ronca de la Re Roja,” Rococon dise. “It’s only the Red King snoring,” said Tweedledee.
“Veni per regarda el!” la frates esclama, e cada de los prende un mano de Alisia, e gida el asta do la Re dormi. “Come and look at him!” the brothers cried, and they each took one of Alice’s hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
“El es un vista bela, no?” Rococin dise. “Isn’t he a lovely sight?” said Tweedledum.
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Alisia no pote dise franca ce el es tal. El porta un xapo de note, roja e alta con un pompon, e el reclina cadeda en un spesie de monton desordinada, e ruidosa roncante—“sufisinte per fa ce sua testa parti!” como Rococin comenta. Alice couldn’t say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoring loud–“fit to snore his head off!” as Tweedledum remarked.
“Me teme ce el va developa la gripe par reclina sur la erba umida,” Alisia dise, car el es un peti xica multe pensosa. “I’m afraid he’ll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,” said Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.
“El sonia aora,” Rococon dise: “e sur cual el sonia, tu suposa?” “He’s dreaming now,” said Tweedledee: “and what do you think he’s dreaming about?”
Alisia dise, “Nun pote divina acel.” Alice said, “Nobody can guess that.”
“Ma sur tu!” Rococon esclama, vinsosa batente sua manos contra lunlotra. “E si el ta sesa sonia sur tu, do tu ta es alora, tu suposa?” “Why, about you!” Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. “And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you’d be?”
“Do me es aora, natural,” Alisia dise. “Where I am now, of course,” said Alice.
“No tu!” Rococon replica despetosa. “Tu ta es en no loca. Vera, tu es no plu ca un cosa de alga spesie en sua sonia!” “Not you!” Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. “You’d be nowhere. Why, you’re only a sort of thing in his dream!”
“Si acel esta Re ta velia,” Rococin ajunta, “tu ta es estinguida—pum!—esata como un candela.” “If that there King was to wake,” added Tweedledum, “you’d go out–bang!–just like a candle!”
“Ma no!” Alisia esclama ofendeda. “Plu, si me es no plu ca un cosa de alga spesie en sua sonia, cual es vos, me vole sabe?” “I shouldn’t!” Alice exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, if I'm only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?”
“Tal,” Rococin dise. “Ditto,” said Tweedledum.
“Tal, tal,” Rococon esclama. “Ditto, ditto,” cried Tweedledee.
El cria tan forte esta ce Alisia no pote asteni de dise, “Xux! Tu va velia el, me teme, si tu ruidi tan.” He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn’t help saying, “Hush! You’ll be waking him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.”
“Bon, tu no es beneficada par discute velia el,” Rococin dise, “cuando tu es no plu ca un de la cosas en sua sonia. Tu sabe multe bon ce tu no es real.” “Well, it no use your talking about waking him,” said Tweedledum, “when you’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you’re not real.”
“Me es real!” Alisia dise e comensa plora. “I am real!” said Alice and began to cry.
“Tu no va deveni plu real par plora,” Rococon comenta: “tu ave no cosa sur cual tu pote plora.” “You won’t make yourself a bit realler by crying,” Tweedledee remarked: “there’s nothing to cry about.”
“Si me no ta es real,” Alisia dise—partal riente tra sua larmas, car tota pare tan riable—“me no ta pote plora.” “If I wasn’t real,” Alice said–half-laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous–“I shouldn’t be able to cry.”
“Me espera ce tu no suposa ce acel larmas es real?” Rococin interompe en un tono de despeta grande. “I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?” Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
“Me sabe ce los parla asurda,” Alisia pensa a se: “e lo es fol ce me plora sur lo.” Donce el brosa sua larmas a via, e continua tan bonumorosa como posible. “An tal, me ta debe sorti de la bosce, car vera lo deveni multe oscur. Esce vos opina ce lo va pluve?” “I know they’re talking nonsense,” Alice thought to herself: “and it’s foolish to cry about it.” So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully as she could. “At any rate I’d better be getting out of the wood, for really it’s coming on very dark. Do you think it’s going to rain?”
Rococin estende un parapluve grande supra se e sua frate, e leva sua regarda a lo. “No, me opina ce no,” el dise: “a la min—no su esta. A no grado.” Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked up into it. “No, I don’t think it is,” he said: “at least–not under here. Nohow.”
“Ma lo pote cisa pluve estra lo?” “But it may rain outside?”
“Lo pote—si lo vole,” Rococon dise: “nos no oposa. A contra.” “It may–if it chooses,” said Tweedledee: “we’ve no objection. Contrariwise.”
“La egoistes!” Alisia pensa, e el es a punto de dise “Bon note” e parti de los, cuando Rococin salta de su la parapluve e saisi la polso de Alisia. “Selfish things!” thought Alice, and she was just going to say “Good-night” and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.
“Tu vide acel?” el dise, en un vose strangulada par pasion, e sua oios deveni subita grande e jala cuando el punta un dito tremante a un peti cosa blanca cual reposa su la arbor. “Do you see that?” he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.
“Lo es mera un clicador,” Alisia dise, pos esamina atendente la peti cosa blanca. “No un aligator, tu sabe,” Alisia ajunta rapida, credente ce la otra es asustada: “ma mera un jueta vea—multe vea e danada.” “It’s only a rattle,” Alice said, after a careful examination of the little white thing. “Not a rattlesnake, you know,” she added hastily, thinking that he was frightened: “only an old rattle–quite old and broken.”
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“Me ia sabe lo!” Rococin cria, comensante piafa savaje e tira sua capeles. “Sua sona es rompeda, natural!” Aora el regarda Rococon, ci senta se sin pausa sur la tera e atenta asconde se su la parapluve. “I knew it was!” cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and tear his hair. “It’s spoilt, of course!” Here he looked at Tweedledee, who immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under the umbrella.
Alisia pone sua mano sur sua braso, e dise en un tono calminte, “Tu no nesesa es tan coler sur un clicador vea.” Alice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, “You needn’t be so angry about an old rattle.”
“Ma lo no es vea!” Rococin cria, en un furia ancora plu grande. “Lo es nova, me dise—me ia compra lo ier—nova, bela—mea CLICADOR!” e sua vose forti, deveninte no min ca un xilia. “But it isn’t old!” Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. “It’s new, I tell you–I bought it yesterday–my nice new RATTLE!” and his voice rose to a perfect scream.
Tra tota esta tempo, Rococon fa la plu bon cual el pote per plia la parapluve, con se mesma a interna de lo: e esta es un ata tan estracomun ce lo distrae intera Alisia de atende la frate coler. Ma el no pote susede completa, e ultima el rola sur la tera, envolveda en la parapluve, con sola sua testa a estra: e el reclina ala, abrinte e cluinte sua boca e sua oios grande—“aspetante plu simil a un pex ca a cualce otra cosa,” Alisia pensa. All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella, with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it quite took off Alice’s attention from the angry brother. But he couldn’t quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and his large eyes–“looking more like a fish than anything else,” Alice thought.
“Natural, tu acorda per combate?” Rococin dise en un tono plu calma. “Of course you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledum said in a calmer tone.
“Me suposa,” la otra responde malumorosa, en cuando el rampe de la parapluve: “ma el debe aida nos a vesti nos, tu sabe.” “I suppose so,” the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the umbrella: “only she must help us to dress up, you know.”
Donce la du frates vade a via con mano en mano tra la bosce, e reveni pos un minuto con sua brasos plen de cosas–como cuxines, covreletos, tapetos, telones, covreplatos, e baldes de carbon. “Tu es bon capas de spini e lia cordetas, me espera?” Rococin comenta. “Cada de esta cosas nesesa es aponeda, en un modo o un otra.” So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in a minute with their arms full of things–such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. “I hope you’re a good hand at pinning and tying strings?” Tweedledum remarked. “Every one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.”
A pos, Alisia dise ce el ia vide nunca un tal stimula en un situa en sua vive intera—acel du condui tan enerjiosa—e los apone tan multe cosas—e los presenta a el tan multe problemes de lia cordetas e fisa botones—“Vera, los va es plu simil a faxos de vestes vea ca a cualce otra cosa, cuando los va es final preparada!” el dise a se, ordinante un cuxin sirca la colo de Rococon, “per preveni ce un talia sutrae sua testa,” como acel dise. Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in all her life–the way those two bustled about–and the quantity of things they put on–and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttons–“Really they’ll be more like bundles of old clothes than anything else, by the time they’re ready!” she said to herself, as she arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, “to keep his head from being cut off,” as he said.
“Tu sabe,” Rococon ajunta multe seria, “lo es un de la cosas la plu grave cual pote an aveni a un person en un combate—ce un talia sutrae sua testa.” “You know,” he added very gravely, “it’s one of the most serious things that can possibly happen to one in a battle–to get one’s head cut off.”
Alisia rie a vose: ma el susede cambia lo a un tose, temente ofende el. Alice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear of hurting his feelings.
TraLaMiror24
“Esce me aspeta multe pal?” Rococin dise, prosiminte afin Alisia lia sua elmo a el. (El nomi lo un elmo, an si lo aspeta multe plu como un caserol.) “Do I look very pale?” said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet tied on. (He called it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more like a saucepan.)
“Ma—si—pico pal,” Alisia responde jentil. “Well–yes–a little,” Alice replied gently.
“Jeneral, me es multe corajosa,” el continua en un vose basa: “ma oji lo aveni ce me ave un dole de testa.” “I’m very brave generally,” he went on in a low voice: “only to-day I happen to have a headache.”
“E me ave un dole de dente!” Rococon dise, ci ia oia acaso la comenta. “Me sufri multe plu ca tu!” “And I've got a toothache!” said Tweedledee, who had overheard the remark. “I’m far worse off than you!”
“Alora lo ta es plu bon ce vos no combate oji,” Alisia dise, opinante ce la momento es bon per pasi los. “Then you’d better not fight to-day,” said Alice, thinking it a good opportunity to make peace.
“Nos debe combate alga, ma me no desira vera continua longa,” Rococin dise. “Cual es la ora presente?” “We must have a bit of a fight, but I don’t care about going on long,” said Tweedledum. “What’s the time now?”
Rococon regarda sua orolojeta, e dise: “Un dui pos cuatro.” Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said: “Half-past four.”
“Ta ce nos combate asta la ora ses, e come a pos,” Rococin dise. “Let’s fight till six, and then have dinner,” said Tweedledum.
“Multe bon,” la otra dise, alga triste: “e el pote oserva nos—ma evita veni multe prosima,” el ajunta: “Jeneral, me colpa tota cual me vide—cuando me deveni vera stimulada.” “Very well,” the other said, rather sadly: “and she can watch us–only you’d better not come very close,” he added: “I generally hit everything I can see–when I get really excited.”
“E me colpa tota cual es atenable,” Rococin cria, “si me vide lo o no!” “And I hit everything within reach,” cried Tweedledum, “whether I can see it or not!”
Alisia rie. “Alora me ta crede ce tu colpa vera frecuente la arbores,” el dise. Alice laughed. “You must hit the trees pretty often, I should think,” she said.
Rococin regarda sirca se con un surie sasiada. “Me suposa an,” el dise, “ce no arbor va resta stante en esta ambiente vasta, pos cuando nos va fini!” Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. “I don’t suppose,” he said, “there’ll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the time we’ve finished!”
“E sola par causa de un clicador!” Alisia dise, ancora esperante fa ce los vergonia alga sur combate per un razona tan vacua. “And all about a rattle!” said Alice, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.
“Me no ta es tan turbada,” Rococin dise, “si lo no ta es un nova.” “I shouldn’t have minded it so much,” said Tweedledum, “if it hadn’t been a new one.”
“Me desira ce la corv’ monstrin ta veni!” Alisia pensa. “I wish the monstrous crow would come!” thought Alice.
“Nos ave un spada solitar, tu sabe,” Rococin dise a sua frate: “ma ta ce tu prende la parapluve—lo es egal agu. Ma nos debe comensa rapida. Lo deveni tan oscur como posible.” “There’s only one sword, you know,” Tweedledum said to his brother: “but you can have the umbrella–it’s quite as sharp. Only we must begin quick. It’s getting as dark as it can.”
“An plu oscur,” Rococon dise. “And darker,” said Tweedledee.
La oscuria ariva tan subita ce Alisia crede ce un tempesta de tona es prosiminte. “Acel es un nube tan densa e negra!” el dise. “E lo veni tan rapida! O! me crede ce lo ave an alas!” It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. “What a thick black cloud that is!” she said. “And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it’s got wings!”
“Lo es la corvo!” Rococin esclama en un vose alta de alarma: e la du frates fuji a via e es ja ultra vista pos un momento. “It’s the crow!” Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.
Alisia core alga a en la bosce, e para su un arbor grande. “Lo va pote nunca ateni me asi,” el pensa: “lo es multe tro grande per forsa se a entre la arbores. Ma me desira ce lo no ta bate tan sua alas—lo crea cuasi un siclon en la bosce—la xal de algun vola asi en la venta!” Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree. “It can never get at me here,” she thought: “it’s far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn’t flap its wings so–it makes quite a hurricane in the wood–here’s somebody’s shawl being blown away!”
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