False Friends (2)

Tornem a parlar dels false friends.
Sovint aprofitem les similituds entre llengües per a aprendre i comunicar-nos més ràpidament. Per exemple, futbol/football té el mateix significat en català que en anglès. Però hi ha unes altres paraules que no ens ajuden, més aviat al contrari, ens despisten; no són amics de l’estudiant, sinó amics falsos – false friends. Avui en posem quatre exemples.

La paraula PETROL no vol dir “petroli”, sinó gasolina. Per parlar de petroli, hem de dir OIL, o CRUDE OIL.

NOTICE – és un cartell i no pas una “notícia” (NEWS, o AN ITEM OF NEWS) .

LARGE – vol dir gran. Per a dir “llarg” hauríem de dir LONG.

EXCITING – en català s’hauria de dir “emocionant”. Per parlar d’alguna cosa “excitant”, en el sentit provocatiu, en anglès diríem SEXY.

Paraules del traductor i poeta, D. Sam Abrams (3)

Tercer fragment de l’entrevista amb D. Sam Abrams publicada al Barcelona INK.

Third extract from the fascinating interview with D Sam Abrams, professor at the Open University of Catalonia, literary critic, poet and translator. The full interview was published in issue no.2 of Barcelona INK.

Question: You have translated many Catalan poets – do you have a favourite?

Abrams: I have favourites. Of current poets, Màrius Sampere and Bartomeu Fiol and Joan Margarit.
As for the classics, for me, one is Ausias March. I think he was the greatest Catalan poet of the period, the greatest Spanish poet of the period, the greatest European poet of the period – ergo, the greatest poet of the world at that time (16th/17th century) for both his command of the language and his command of the form. He was a man with a foot in both the middle ages and the beginning of the Renaissance and this gave him a dramatic tragic view of life. There’s a point when he names himself in a poem and that for a poet was unheard of in those days.

Question: But he’s relatively unheard of ...

Abrams: Because nobody has ever translated him.

Question: And he remains untranslated?

Abrams: He’s been translated but only in the small press. I proposed to the Catalan government that they set up a team of experts: two university professors and two poets and that the draft a literal crib of his work so that somebody, a big name in English poetry (the man I had in mind was Seamus Heaney before he won the Nobel prize), could translate the crib into actual English poetry and all of a sudden March would make a big splash.
I was listened to. But I think that they felt that it was out of their reach – but it has been done before. There was an unknown Polish Renaissance poet. They made a crib and Heaney translated it and now he’s famous all over the world (Jan Kochanowski) and I can guarantee that March is ten times better than him!

Hi havia un home que llegia diccionaris ...

Hi havia un home que llegia diccionaris … bé, Aamon Shea va llegir els vint volums del Oxford Dictionary of the English Language. Li va costar un any llegir les 21.730 pàgines. Aquí teniu la notícia a la pàgina web de la BBC.

Paraules del traductor i poeta, D. Sam Abrams (2)

L’americà D. Sam Abrams és professor de literatura a la UOC, poeta, crític literari, i traductor. Ha traduït 20 llibres de poesia catalana moderna a l’anglès. Adjuntem un segon fragment de l’entrevista publicada al Barcelona INK.

A second extract from the fascinating interview with D Sam Abrams, professor at the Open University of Catalonia, literary critic, poet and translator. The full interview was published in issue no.2 of Barcelona INK.

Question: So, just how Catalan are you?

Abrams: I’m as integrated as you get but I don’t believe in total integration. I believe sooner or later you always come up against a wall. Two examples of this: One, politically speaking, an American is born in a democratic tradition and it’s very difficult for an American involved in Catalan politics to understand the “if you don’t like it why don’t you stand up and walk away” attitude. This “yes, maybe ... we want to be independent but we are afraid to use the word ...” As an American I find that very hard to understand. As my grandmother used to say, “either shit or get off the pot.”

The other is this. I was the Secretary of the PEN Club here for two years and one of the problems I kept coming up against was imagination and creativity. An American is born to think about ways of doing things. It’s hard for Catalans to conceive new ideas. For example, when it was the 100th anniversary of the poet Joan Oliver Pere IV, I had the idea of printing posters with his poems and to go up and down the Rambla and stick them up, and have the members putting up posters as well as the poet’s only daughter putting up the first one. The immediate reaction was a very lethal Catalan question, “Vols dir?” That means, “we’ve never done this, do you really think it’s going to work?”

Question: You are in favour of independence.

Abrams: Oh, absolutely, and I think the last two years in local politics has proved this right.

Question: Has your learning the language had an effect on your political opinions?

Abrams: Before I even came here I was under the impression that Spain was one great nation. I was told before I came here that Catalan was a dialect and the language is Spanish. But it became clear when I arrived that all of this was completely erroneous and that was before I even spoke the language.

Passives (2)

As we said in the previous post, passive structures are very common and very useful in English. We can give the object more importance than the subject, or simply leave the subject out of the sentence as in the following example:
That letter should have been sent last week (by ...).

Today we would like to go over some more advanced/complicated examples.
1. In English we can move either the direct object or the indirect object to the front of a passive sentence. So the active statement, “They offered him the promotion” can be written in two ways:
The promotion was offered to him.
He was offered a promotion.

2. We can also have a passive construction “hidden” inside a sentence. Think of this statement: he likes it when people ask him for autographs.
The second part of the sentence has a subject (people) and object (him) and, so, we can make a passive here, after “he likes ...”, remembering that the most suitable form after the verb “like” is the gerund. We can imagine the following statement as an intermediate, but incorrect, step – he likes it when he being asked for autographs.
However, “being asked” functions now as the object of the verb “like", thus leaving us with the correct final version:
He likes being asked for autographs.

3. In Catalan people express general beliefs or opinions with sentences like “es creu que ell és el lladre”, or “se suposa que Lee Harvey Oswald va matar JFK”. In English to avoid explaining who believes this (people, obviously) we have to use passive sentences. We bring the “he” or “Lee Harvey Oswald” to the front of the sentence while the “people” who believe this move behind the verb, but can be, and are, left out of the final sentence. Let’s see. Originally we could say:
People think that he is the thief.
People suppose that Oswald killed JFK.

These become:
He is thought (by the people) to be the thief.
Oswald is supposed to have killed JFK.

Another alternative is to say:
It is thought that he is the thief.
It is supposed that Oswald killed JFK.

Passives (1)

Els estudiants d’anglès sovint es deuen preguntar per què es dona tanta importància a la veu passiva en l’aprenentatge de la llengua. Intentarem explicar-ne els motius, i donar-vos un petit esquema de com es construeixen les frases.

La norma bàsica per fer una passiva en anglès és la d’ajuntar el verb To Be, en el temps apropiat, amb el participi de passat del verb principal. Per exemple,

The book was written in 1982. (literalment, el llibre va ser escrit a l’any 1982)
My car has been repaired by the mechanic. (el meu cotxe ha estat reparat pel mecànic).
The letters will be delivered tomorrow by the postman. (les cartes seran repartides demà pel carter)

En utilitzar la passiva en comptes de l’activa en el segon exemple hem de posar el cotxe encapçalant la frase i així donem més importància al cotxe que no pas al mecànic. Fins i tot es pot eliminar el mecànic de la frase (cosa òbvia ja que sabem que són els mecànics qui reparen cotxes i no cal esmentar-los).

Hi ha tres situacions habituals en què no cal nombrar la persona que fa l’acció, i per tant, tendim a usar la passiva:

1. Si no sabem qui fa l’acció (algú m’ha ratllat el cotxe). 2. Sabem qui la fa però no li donem gaire importància (si pensem més en la novel·la que l’autor, per exemple). 3. Sabem qui la fa però és tan evident que no cal dir-ho (els lladres roben coses).

1. Somebody scratched my car.

Passiva: My car was scratched (by somebody).

2. Shakespeare wrote Hamlet 400 years ago.

Passiva: Hamlet was written 400 years ago (by ...).

3. A thief has stolen my camera.

Passiva: My camera has been stolen.

En català, és possible expressar aquestes idees sense arribar a usar la passiva ja que es poden usar formes impersonals del verb com ara: “m’han arreglat el cotxe”, “es repartiran les cartes”, o “el llibre es va escriure ...”.

Un altre dia, explicarem coses no tan bàsiques sobre el tema de les passives.

J D Salinger has died

News article from the BBC web page.

American novelist JD Salinger, author of classic 20th Century book The Catcher in the Rye, has died aged 91.
The reclusive writer died of natural causes at his home in the state of New Hampshire, his son said.
The Catcher In The Rye, first published in 1951, is a tale of teenage angst. It has become one of the most influential American novels of the modern era. Soon after its publication, Salinger shunned the fame it brought and became a recluse for the rest of his life.

The son of a Jewish businessman and Scots-Irish mother, Jerome David Salinger was born in New York and grew up in Manhattan. He enjoyed early success in the 1940s with the publication of numerous short stories in magazines, among them the New Yorker. But he is best known for The Catcher in the Rye, which quickly became a bible of teenage dissent in America and a staple of high school and freshman college English courses.

Almost immediately after Catcher was published, Salinger became disillusioned with the publishing industry. In 1953, he bought a house at Cornish, New Hampshire, and retreated into seclusion, giving a rare and final interview in 1980 ...

For the full article click here.

Linguamón - Casa de les Llengües

El 30 de gener Linguamón inaugurarà el Centre de Visitants de la seva nova seu a l'antiga fàbrica de Can Ricart a Barcelona.
Per explicar qui són i què fan, qui millor que ells mateixos ...

Del web http://www.linguamon.cat/

Linguamón – Casa de les Llengües és un organisme governamental creat el 2005 i integrat per la Generalitat de Catalunya i l’ Ajuntament de Barcelona. La nostra missió és acostar el món de les llengües als ciutadans; fer viure la riquesa lingüística de manera positiva a la societat; crear consciència per la sostenibilitat de la diversitat lingüística, i difondre les grans possibilitats que les llengües i les seves comunitats ofereixen.

D’altra banda, per mitjà dels serveis especialitzats, duem a terme iniciatives al voltant de les llengües per contribuir a la millora del desenvolupament social i econòmic de la societat, de forma que els models de gestió del multilingüisme proposats incideixin positivament en la cohesió social, la competitivitat i l’economia d’un país, així com en el desenvolupament social i laboral de la ciutadania.

Linguamón - Casa de les Llengües vol contribuir a fer de Catalunya un referent internacional en la gestió del multilingüisme de les societats i les noves tecnologies.

Paraules del traductor i poeta, D. Sam Abrams (1)

L’americà D. Sam Abrams és professor de literatura a la UOC, poeta, crític literari, i traductor. Ha traduït 20 llibres de poesia catalana moderna a l’anglès. Adjuntem un petit fragment d’una entrevista publicada al Barcelona INK, revista publicada aquí a Catalunya amb històries curtes, poesies, i pensaments, tots relacionat amb Barcelona.

We include an extract from a fascinating interview with D. Sam Abrams, professor at the Open University of Catalonia, literary critic, poet and translator. The full interview was published in issue no.2 of Barcelona INK, a relatively new magazine featuring English writing on, about, or from Barcelona.

Question: Just how difficult is it to translate poetry?

Abrams: Translating poetry is a wonderful experience. There’s no experience that compares to it in terms of using your reading skills. It’s when you translate that you realize just how little attention we actually pay to those little black marks on the page. All of a sudden you are in the driving seat and you have to say whatever it is the person you are translating is trying to say. You are responsible for that. You have to understand every inch of what he says. So first of all, it’s a very intense reading experience.

Second, it’s a very intense cultural and linguistic experience. Because you have to understand what that person is saying and you have to know the language very very well. I really don’t believe this distance between people saying “well, I really didn’t know that much English when I translated Walt Whitman into Hebrew ... .” If your personality as a translator is that important, then, yes, but if you are actually trying to translate, transfer a poet from one language to another, you need to be standing behind the poet to grasp the poet.

In that place it’s intense working within your own language. You learn a lot about your craft as a poet.

2010

Happy New Year! The big question is, though, how should we read 2010 in English? From the eleventh to the twentieth centuries we read years in twos – that is, 1982 is read as “nineteen eighty-two” rather than like the number “one thousand nine hundred and eighty-two”. It was generally assumed, though, that after the year 2000, the years would be read as numbers and, hence, 2010 would be “two thousand and ten”. However, many people read it as “twenty ten”. So which is right?

The truth is both are correct at present as no one actually makes these decisions in English. Popular and official usage will tend to use one more than the other until that becomes the accepted norm. “Two thousand and ten” sounds more correct and traditional, but “twenty ten” sounds more direct and modern, and seems to be winning the day judging by its use on the BBC and other media.

Una dècada que s’acaba - The Noughties.

A cada dècada, tant en català com en anglès, normalment li hem posat un nom genèric. Per exemple, del 1920 fins al 1929 és conegut com a “the twenties” en anglès, i “els anys vint” en català. Del 1930 fins al 1939, l’anomenen “the thirties” o “els anys trenta” respectivament. Bé, aquest sistema funcionava fins que vam arribar a la dècada actual, des del 2000 al 2009. En català s’ha de referir a la “dècada dels 2000”, però en anglès tenim una paraula més “original”!

En anglès, al tombant de segle, no hi havia una paraula consensuada per definir la dècada que acabàvem d’inaugurar. No hi ha acadèmia de la llengua anglesa, així que les paraules s’accepten o no en base de l’ús i el prestigi que tenen. Cap allà a l’any 2000 hi havia propostes com ara “the aughts”, expressió usada per descriure la dècada 1900-1909, o “the double ohs”, però no van tenir sort, i cap a la meitat de la dècada la gent va començar a utilitzar cada cop més el terme “the Noughties” fins que institucions com la BBC o la Oxford University Publications també van començar a acceptar-la i usar-la. Al final s’ha acceptat aquesta paraula “the Noughties” – l’origen de la qual ve de la paraula “nought”, que significa zero.

Do They Know It's Christmas - song lyrics

The lyrics to a classic Christmas pop song, Do They Know It's Christmas - written by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure and recorded by various pop artists in 1984 under the name of Band Aid as a charity single to raise money for famine-stricken Ethiopia.

It's Christmas time
There's no need to be afraid
At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time

But say a prayer, pray for the other ones
At Christmas time, it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom
Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life
Where nothing ever grows, no rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?

(Here's to you) raise a glass for everyone
(Here's to them) underneath that burning sun
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
Feed the world
Feed the world, Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again.

Silver River - traducció del conte Paper de Plata, de Jesús Tibau

Coses de la gent obsessionada amb les paraules. Fa un temps vam traduir a l’anglès, pel nostre gust personal i per regalar-li a l’autor i amic Jesús Tibau, el divertit conte Paper de Plata, inclòs en la seva col·lecció de relats curts El Vertigen del Trapezista. Per l’època de l’any en que estem, pot ser interessant …

SILVER RIVER

They’re not biting today. It doesn’t matter; fishermen can be as patient as it takes. Despite the bluff and bluster of some, most of them afford less importance to the size and amount of fish caught than to the pleasant time they spend sitting peacefully here, in the company of their thoughts and getting to know themselves a little better than they did yesterday. People say that you have to know something or somebody really well before you can love them; if these fishermen invested just half the time in thinking about themselves as they do day-dreaming, they would truly come to love themselves. In this I have no doubt, being a firm believer in mankind’s common sense, usually.

But today they are not biting. It’s a shame as the water is crystal-clear, inviting you to jump in. “Better not: it’s December and, although it’s fine today, you’d only end up with a cold you won’t shake off all winter. When you can’t stop sneezing, you’ll remember the fool you were that day.” A girl is crossing the bridge, a pretty girl, with her sleeves rolled up, carrying a basket of washing on her head. She distracts him from his fishing. For a fleeting moment he thinks, maybe, she just might turn and offer him a smile, but it’s not to be: perhaps she’s looking the other way on purpose, causing more excitement as she passes by.

No, no luck today, they are just not biting at all. This morning, when fate allotted him this place, he’d actually thought, “Mmm, looks like a good spot.” He can’t complain really, though; a tree offers him shade and, if he wasn’t so busy staring at the river, he’d be able to see mountains in the distance, lightly-dusted with snow, like a covering of flour. But they’re not biting today; and that’s the most important feature for a fisherman to classify a landscape as beautiful.

They’re not biting. Many would have given up hours ago, not seeing this eternal calm as an opportunity for rest, but rather observing it with a certain nervousness. That is true - this peace and quiet could be a source of anxiety for sad souls but this particular fisherman isn’t the least bit worried as he stares at the line hanging down from his rod, so fine and invisible that, for a moment, it seems like it is no longer there. The wind isn’t blowing either and the sails of an old windmill, unruffled beside the path, do not move at all.

The fish are not biting. But the fisherman is not flustered; he knows you can get all kinds of days, moody and whimsy ones, and that you should not get cross because, after this day, there will be another one, and then another and ... just like that flock of sheep over there, following the shepherd. That is, of course, if you can call that a flock – four sheep and a dog with no bark. The shepherd is carrying a lamb around his neck with its legs roped up. He doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush either. Shepherds, like fishermen, understand how to appreciate the constant passing of time. Beyond him, four or five more, sitting around a fire. They must be preparing lunch ... or supper, as we have lost all notion of time by now.

They are not biting, and they won’t bite. At the end of the path, just by the bridge, an auspicious group. Three camels, serious, concentrating on the task at hand, carrying three kings from the Orient. We know they are from the Orient by the robes they wear, the path they take, and because it’s what we would expect to see at this time of year. The first one, with a white beard, his outstretched arm points at the sky. Now the fisherman looks that way too, and sees a star crossing the sky, its long tail painted with glitter. It’s dark, a strange darkness, and the hours that have passed by have done so leaving nothing behind as they go. The girl with the basket still has not reached the other side of the bridge, nor have the shepherd and his sheep, nor the windmill sails. Nothing moves, nothing at all, only from time to time when a child’s hand picks up the three kings, one by one, and moves them slowly towards a cave with an angel above it; the child is impatiently looking forward to the kings arriving for once and for all.

The fish don’t bite because the river is no more than a thin slightly-wrinkled layer of aluminium foil. “Better than nothing”, thinks the fisherman to himself, because the nativity scene is a pretend one and, like Christmas itself, once the holidays are over, the figures will be wrapped in tissue paper and put away once more.

Translated by Brian Cutts / Silvia Panisello, 2008.

Va de prínceps

Sempre trobo interessant pensar en les diferències entre l’anglès i el català. A la cultura anglosaxona tots tenim al cap la figura del Prince Charming (el príncep encantador), gràcies a Walt Disney. En català però, parlem del Príncep Blau. Tots dos han aconseguit “sortir” dels contes per a representar la idealització de l’home perfecte en la vida real.

Sembla ser que el nom encantador del Prince Charming té els seus orígens en uns contes francesos del segle XIX de Madame D’Auloy que parlaven del Roi Charmant. A l’any 1889 Andrew Lang va traduir els contes a l’anglès i va sorgir així el King Charming. Tot seguit, a l’any 1890, tenim la primera referència al Prince Charming, al llibre The Picture of Dorian Gray d’Oscar Wilde.

D’altra banda, el nom de Princep Blau en català (i Príncipe Azul en castellà) es va començar a utilitzar al segle XIX també, a partir d’una llegenda romanesa, El Princep Blau de la Llàgrima. És possible que el color blau vingui de la famosa història de que les famílies reials sempre tenen la sang blava.