Translation for "la figura entera" to english

La figura entera

• the whole figure

Translation examples

the whole figure

pero ahora las estrellas salían más tarde, y no podía mantener los ojos abiertos y ver cómo la figura entera se desprendía del horizonte.
but it rose later now, and he could not keep his eyes open till the whole figure stood free of the horizon.

Solo se veían las piernas inmensas del gigante bajo la negrura de la tempestad, y de cuando en cuando aparecía momentáneamente su figura entera envuelta en la niebla.
Only the giant's immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into the obscurity of the tempest; and, now and then, a momentary glimpse of his whole figure, mantled in a volume of mist.

Lo cierto es que les veía demasiado parecido: los ojos azules, la nariz, los labios nada carnosos, el mentón algo afilado, el pelo largo con ondulaciones, la estatura, los pechos no muy abundantes y más bien centrífugos, los pies, la figura entera, hasta la expresión presentaban semejanzas, o en todo caso no eran opuestos en modo alguno.
However, the two women looked very alike to me: the blue eyes, the nose, the rather thin lips, the somewhat sharp chin, the long wavy hair, the stature, the smallish widely-spaced breasts, the feet, the whole figure, there were even similarities in their facial expressions, or at least they were not entirely opposed.

—preguntó Anselm de forma perentoria, con furia y rabia a la vez, como si nunca hubiera visto, nunca hasta aquella noche, lo que podía dejarle sin aliento: la recogió del suelo mirando la superficie satinada como si no pudiera abarcar la figura entera en su percepción, captando detalles, la silla, el papel de la pared, finalmente las manchas que delineaban sobre el blanco sombreado, en un maniático silencio de búsqueda que le llevó a la cara y dejó la suya con una desvalida expresión de furia y consternación—.
Anselm demanded, half in a fury and half in a rage, as though he’d never seen, never before tonight, what was able to take his breath away: he picked it up from the floor staring at the glossy surface as though unable to contain the whole figure in his apprehension, seizing at details, the chair, the wallpaper, finally the delineating blemishes on the shadowed white, in a manic silence of search which led him to her face and left his own in a helpless show of fury and dismay.

La puso al final y las fue pasando una a una, los dedos temblando contra su superficie satinada, mirando rápidamente cada una, confirmando la cara, incapaz de abarcar la figura entera en su percepción, captando detalles, la silla de arce desconocida en la que estaba sentada, encogida, las persianas, el papel de la pared, el dibujo del tapizado de la silla, sus uñas, las arrugas de sus nudillos, la mella irregular de su ombligo y los dos bultos turgentes que despuntaban hacia él, manchas detalladas en la extensión de su carne, que la delineaban pero no podían traerla a la vida en ninguna variedad de postura y exposición, obstáculos en los que tropezaba su mirada, pasando sobre el blanco sombreado en una silenciosa manía de búsqueda que le llevaba desvalidamente basta su cara, y le abandonaba allí, prendido de la boca que estigmatizaba su ansia, prendido de los ojos que le conocían, y que no se movían.
He turned it up, and looked at each one, his fingers quivering against their glossy surfaces, at each one quickly, ascertaining the face, unable to contain the whole figure in his apprehension, seizing at details, the unfamiliar maple chair she sat on, curled in, the Venetian blinds, the wallpaper, the upholstery pattern on the chair, her fingernails, the lines of her knuckles, the irregular dent of her navel and the two full blots swelling toward him, detailed blemishes on the expanse of her flesh, which delineated it but could not bring it to life in any variety of pose and exposure, obstacles at which his gaze stumbled, passing over the shadowed white in a silent mania of search which led him helplessly to her face, and deserted him there, fixed by the mouth which stigmatized his hunger, fixed by the eyes which knew him, and did not move.

Aquella mujer no era precavida, sobre todo teniendo en cuenta que no debía de usar ropa interior: no era que las bragas hubieran quedado a la altura de unas ligas o apenas bajadas, sino que no las había, eso comprobé o descubrí al ofrecerse la figura entera a mi vista más elevada, los muslos tan desembarazados de prendas como los tobillos, la falda estrecha subida hasta arriba, hasta las ingles y las caderas y arrugada por tanto (tampoco habría demasiada tela, a buen seguro sería tirando a corta), una falda de tubo blanca, los zapatos de tacón fino pero potente eran del mismo color, veraniegos y como de los años cincuenta, la década de mejor gusto general femenino, muy bonitos aunque inesperados en Londres y fuera de la estación que más los toleraría como le pasaba a la falda, le vi el bulto o la mancha amarilla bajo la que sostén no había, una blusa de escote redondeado y mangas casi imaginarias —mangas como muñones, por la parte exterior le cubrían el arranque de los brazos tan sólo y poco más que las axilas por la interior, eso deduje—, lo turbador eran los muslos robustos, fuertes y tan al descubierto —tanto—, no gruesos sino compactos y densos, como si la carne llenara toda la superficie hasta el borde del estallido, sin nada de grasa superflua pero sin desaprovechar un milímetro de la piel ceñida como envoltorio tirante, se iban ensanchando debidamente en su crecimiento o camino hacia las caderas e ingles y hacia el pico oscuro que se me mostró (lo distinguí, creí verlo), me parecieron caderas vagamente centroamericanas o quizá es que también remitían a esos años cincuenta en que se apreció lo muy curvo, o bien fue que la melena rizada y los enormes pendientes —eran aros, de amplísima circunferencia— le conferían un aire tropical que no tenía por qué ser auténtico pese al color de su desnudez dorada —nunca británico, ni de la Commonwealth casi entera—, podía tratarse de una mera opción, del disfraz escogido para una noche de discoteca eterna, lo mismo que De la Garza creía haberse vestido de rapero negro y a la postre iba de torero ucrónico o de goyesco absurdo.
This woman was evidently not the prudent sort, given that she clearly didn’t even bother with underwear: her knickers had not remained at garter level or barely been pulled down at all, there simply were no knickers, as I confirmed or discovered when she revealed her whole figure to my now elevated eyes, her thighs were as unencumbered with clothes as were her ankles, her tight skirt pulled up to groin- and hip-level and, therefore, wrinkled (not that there was a great deal of fabric, it would doubtless be on the short side), a straight white tube skirt, her shoes, with their slender but sturdy heels, were the same colour, like the summer shoes women wore in the 1950s, which was, generally speaking, the best and prettiest decade for female fashion, but they, like the skirt, were unexpected in London and worn outside of the season to which they were best suited, I saw, too, a yellow shape or smudge beneath which there was no bra, a blouse with a rounded neck and almost imaginary sleeves—sleeves like stumps, the upper part would cover only the tops of her arms, and the lower part, or so I deduced, would barely cover her armpits—most troubling of all were her strong, sturdy and very—very—bare thighs, not heavy, but compact and dense, as if the whole surface were filled to bursting, with not an ounce of excess fat, but making the most of every millimetre of skin, which was as taut as a tight wrapping, thighs which quite properly grew wider as they advanced up to her hips and groin and towards the dark triangle that I could see (at least I think I could), they looked vaguely Central American, those hips or perhaps they, too, were reminiscent of the 1950s when curves were fashionable, or perhaps it was her mass of curly hair and the enormous earrings—huge hoop earrings—that lent her a tropical air which need not necessarily have been authentic, despite the golden colour of her bare skin—it could never have been British skin, nor from many places in the Commonwealth—it might just be a choice she had made, a disguise chosen for a long night at the disco, just as De la Garza imagined he had got himself up as a black rapper, but had succeeded only in looking like some kind of alternative bullfighter or some absurd Goya torero.