"It had never occurred to him until now that a fifty-year-old woman's body, grown to enormous proportions by childbirth, then hardened and roughened by work until it was as rough as an overripe carrot, could be beautiful. It was, and anyway, why couldn't it be? - thought. The muscular, block-of-granite body without definite contours and the raspy, red skin were related to a girl's body like a rosehip to a rosehip. Why should the fruit be considered inferior to the flower?
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Author
George OrwellAll Translations
All Translations
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It had never occurred to him until now that a fifty-year-old woman's body, grown to enormous proportions by childbirth, then hardened and roughened by work until it was as rough as an overripe carrot, could be beautiful. It was, and anyway, why couldn't it be? - thought. The muscular, block-of-granite body without definite contours and the raspy, red skin were related to a girl's body like a rosehip to a rosehip. Why should the fruit be considered inferior to the flower?
""Eddig még sohasem jutott eszébe, hogy egy ötvenéves női test, amelyet a gyermekszülés óriási méretekre növesztett, aztán a munka megkeményített és eldurvított, amíg olyan érdes nem lett, mint egy túlérett répa, szép is lehet. Pedig az volt, s különben is, miért ne lehetne az? - gondolta. Az izmos, gránittömbhöz hasonló, határozott körvonalak nélküli test s a reszelős, vörös bőr úgy viszonyult egy lánytesthez, mint a csipkebogyó a csipkerózsához. Miért kellene alsóbbrendűnek tekinteni a gyümölcsöt a virágnál?"