AnnotationThe last novel Ernest Hem

Annotation
The last novel Ernest Hemingway saw published, The Old Man and the Sea has proved itself to be
one of the enduring works of American fiction. It is the story of an old Cuban fisherman and his supreme
ordeal: a relentless, agonizing battle with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream. Using the simple,
powerful language of a fable, Hemingway takes the timeless themes of courage in the face of defeat and
personal triumph won from loss and transforms them into a magnificent twentieth-century classic.
Ernest Hemingway
Ernest Hemingway
The Old Man and the Sea
To Charlie Shribner
And
To Max Perkins
He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days
now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a
fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the
worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish
the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always
went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled
around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent
defeat.
The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of
the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The
blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling
heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless
desert.
Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were
cheerful and undefeated.
“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I
could go with you again. We’ve made some money.”
The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.
“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”
“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day
for three weeks.”
“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”
“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”
“I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.”
“He hasn’t much faith.”
“No,” the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we?”
“Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.”
“Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.”
They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry.
Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke
politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of
what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin
out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank,
to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had
caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on
a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut
into strips for salting.
When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today
there was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off
and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.
“Santiago,” the boy said.
“Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.
“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”
“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”
“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you. I would like to serve in some way.”
“You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.”
“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”
“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to
pieces. Can you remember?”
“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I
can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat
shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over
me.”
“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”
“I remember everything from when we first went together.”
The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.
“If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble,” he said. “But you are your father’s and your
mother’s and you are in a lucky boat.”
“May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too.”
“I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box.”
“Let me get four fresh ones.”
“One,” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were freshening
as when the breeze rises.
“Two,” the boy said.
“Two,” the old man agreed. “You didn’t steal them?”
“I would,” the boy said. “But I bought these.”
“Thank you,” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he
knew he had attained it and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.
“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,” he said.
“Where are you going?” the boy asked.
“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light.”
“I’ll try to get him to work far out,” the boy said. “Then if you hook something truly big we can come
to your aid.”
“He does not like to work too far out.”
“No,” the boy said. “But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him
to come out after dolphin.”
“Are his eyes that bad?”
“He is almost blind.”
“It is strange,” the old man said. “He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”
“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good.”
“I am a strange old man”
“But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?”
“I think so. And there are many tricks.”
“Let us take the stuff home,” the boy said. “So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”
They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy
carried the wooden boat with the coiled, hard-braided brown lines, the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft.
The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the big
fish when they were brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the
sail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was quite sure no local people
would steal from him, the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in
a boat.
They walked up the road together to the old man’s shack and went in through its open door. The old
man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear
beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough
budshields of the royal palm which are called guano and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a
place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of
the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the
Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the
wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner
under his clean shirt.
“What do you have to eat?” the boy asked.
“A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?”
“No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?”
“No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold.”
“May I take the cast net?”
“Of course.”
There was no cast net and the boy remembered when they had sold it. But they went through this
fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.
“Eighty-five is a lucky number,” the old man said. “How would you like to see me bring one in that
dressed out over a thousand pounds?”
“I’ll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway?”
“Yes. I have yesterday’s paper and I will read the baseball.”
The boy did not know whether yesterday’s paper was a fiction too. But the old man brought it out
from under the bed.
“Perico gave it to me at the bodega,” he explained. “I’ll be back when I have the sardines. I’ll keep
yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me
about the baseball.”
“The Yankees cannot lose.”
“But I fear the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.”
“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.”
“Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sax of Chicago.”
“You study it and tell me when I come back.”
“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the eightyfifth
day.”
“We can do that,” the boy said. “But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?”
“It could not happen twice. Do you think you can find an eighty-five?”
“I can order one.
“One sheet. That’s two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?”
“That’s easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half.”
“I think

النتائج (الإنجليزية) 2:

Annotation
The Ernest Hemingway novel are published saw, The Old Man and the Sea Itself has proved to be
one of the enduring works of American fiction. It is the story of an old Cuban fisherman and his supreme
ordeal: a relentless, Agonizing battle with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream. Using the simple,
powerful language of a Fable, Hemingway takes the timeless themes of courage in the face of defeat and
triumph will not from personal loss and transforms them into a magnificent twentieth-century classic.
Ernest Hemingway
Ernest Hemingway
The Old Man and the Sea
To Charlie Shribner
And
To Max Perkins
He was an old man who Fished alone in a Skiff in the Gulf Stream and Had he gone eighty-four days
now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a
fish the boy's parents Had Told him That the old man was now definitely and finally Salao, Which is the
worst form of unlucky, and the boy Had gone at Hwy orders in another boat Which caught three good fish
the first week. It made ​​the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his Skiff empty and he always
went down to help him carry Either the coiled lines or the Gaff and harpoon and the sail That was furled
around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent
defeat.
The old man was thin and Gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of
the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea provenance on his cheeks. The
blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands Had the deep-Creased scars from handling
heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They provenance as old as Erosions in a fishless
desert.
Everything about him was old except his eyes and they provenance the same color as the sea and provenance
cheerful and undefeated.
"Santiago," the boy said to him as they Climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. "I
Could go with you again. We've made ​​some money. "
The old man Had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.
"No," the old man said. "You're with a lucky boat. Stay with them. "
"But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day
for three weeks. "
"I remember," the old man said. "I know you did not leave me Because you Doubted."
"It was papa made ​​me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him. "
"I know," the old man said. "It is quite normal."
"He has not much faith."
"No," the old man said. "But we have. Have not we? "
"Yes," the boy said. "Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the stuff home."
"Why not?" the old man said. "Between fishermen."
They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made ​​fun of the old man and he was not angry.
Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and provenance sad. But they did not show it and they spoke
Politely about the current and the depths they drifted Had Hwy lines at and the steady good weather and of
what they Had seen. The Successful fishermen of provenance That day in and already Had Butchered Hwy marlin
Carried out and laid them full length Across two Planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank,
to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who Had
caught sharks Had Taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they provenance Hoisted on
a block and tackle, Hwy livers removed, fins cut off Hwy and Hwy hides skinned out and Hwy flesh cut
into strips for salting .
When the wind was in the east a smell Came Across the harbor from the shark factory; but today
there was only the faint edge of the odor Because Had the wind backed into the north and then dropped off
and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.
"Santiago," the boy said.
"Yes," the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.
"Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?"
"No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net. "
"I would like to go. If I can not fish with you. I would like to serve in some way. "
"You bought me a beer," the old man said. "You are already a man."
"How old was I When you first Took me in a boat?"
"Five and you killed Nearly provenance When I Brought the fish in too green and he Nearly tore the boat to
pieces. Can you remember? "
"I can remember the tail Slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I
can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines provenance and feeling the whole boat
shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet smell blood all over
me. "
"Can you really remember or That did I just tell it to you? "
"I remember everything from when we first went together."
The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.
"If you provenance my boy I'd take you out and gamble, "he said. "But you are your father's and your
mother's and you are in a lucky boat. "
"May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four Baits too. "
"I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box. "
"Let me get four fresh ones."
"One," the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they provenance Freshening
as When the breeze rises.
"Two," the boy said.
"Two," the old man Agreed. "You did not steal them?"
"I would," the boy said. "But I bought these."
"Thank you," the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he
knew Had he attained it and he knew it was not Disgraceful and Carried it no loss of true pride.
"Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current," he said.
"Where are you going?" the boy Asked .
"Far out to come in When the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light. "
"I'll try to get him to work far out," the boy said. "Then if you hook something truly big we can come
to your aid. "
"He does not like to work too far out."
"No," the boy said. "But I will see something That he can not see color: such as a bird working and get him
to come out after dolphin. "
"Are his eyes that bad?"
"He is almost blind."
"It is strange," the old man said . "He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes. "
"But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good."
"I am a strange old man"
"But are you strong road now for a truly big fish?"
"I think so. And there are many tricks. "
"Let us take the stuff home," the boy said. "So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines."
They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man Carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy
Carried the wooden boat with the coiled, hard-braided brown lines, the Gaff and the harpoon with its shaft.
The box with the Baits was under the stern of the Skiff along with the That club was used to Subdue the big
fish When they provenance Brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the
sail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was quite sure no local people
would steal from him, the old man thought That a Gaff and a harpoon provenance needless Temptations to leave in
a boat.
They walked up the road together to the old man's shack and went in thru its open door. The old
man Leaned the mast with its wrapped sail Against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear
beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made ​​of the tough
Budshields of the royal palm Which are Called guano and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a
place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of
the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the
Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Had Been there once a tinted photograph of his Wife on the
wall but he Had Taken it down Because it made ​​him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner
under his clean shirt.
"What do you have to eat? "Asked the boy.
"A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some? "
"No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire? "
"No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold. "
"May I take the cast net?"
"Of course."
There was no cast net and the boy remembered Had When they sold it. But they went thru this
fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.
"Eighty-five is a lucky number," the old man said. "How would you like to see me bring one in That
dressed out over a thousand pounds? "
"I'll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway? "
"Yes. I have yesterday's paper and I will read the baseball. "
The boy did not know Whether yesterday's paper was a fiction too. But the old man Brought it out
from under the bed.
"Perico Gave it to me at the bodega," he Explained. "I'll be back when I have the sardines. I'll keep
yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me
about the baseball. "
"The Yankees can not lose."
"But I fear the Indians of Cleveland."
"Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio. "
"I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland."
"Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sax of Chicago."
"You study it and tell me when I come back. "
"Do you think we shouldnt buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the Eightyfifth
day. "
"We can do that," the boy said. "But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?"
"It could not happen twice. Do you think you can find an eighty-five? "
"I can order one.
"One sheet. That's two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow from That? "
"That's easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half. "
"I think

النتائج (الإنجليزية) 3:

Annotation

The last novel Ernest Hemingway saw published, The Old Man and the Sea has proved itself to be
one of the enduring works of American fiction. It is the story of an old Cuban fisherman and his supreme
ordeal: a relentless, agonizing battle with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream. Using the simple,
powerful language of a fableHemingway takes the timeless themes of courage in the face of defeat and
personal triumph won from loss and transforms them into a magnificent twentieth-century classic. Ernest Hemingway


Ernest Hemingway The Old Man and the Sea To Charlie Shribner And



To Max Perkins He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days
now without taking a fish.