Traducció del conte, El Cargol Vanitós

Happy times! December 2014 saw the publication of another of our translations. We translated the childrens' story The Smug Snail, by Maite Forteza, from Catalan into English.

Traductors

Interessant article El Punt 17-07-2011

Traductors del Miquel Berga

En la llarga tradició que considera el traductor com un traïdor potencial i que en italià permet el famós joc de paraules traduttore tradittore, s'ha conegut un episodi ben curiós. El cas afecta les típiques funcions de l'intèrpret en les converses entre dos mandataris. Una de les proves sobre l'ancestral saviesa dels xinesos ha estat considerada nul·la perquè, finalment, un traductor ha parlat. La cosa va passar a principis dels setanta quan encara era viu un dels mites de la revolució xinesa, l'influent Zhou Enlai. En la seva visita a Pequín, el president Richard Nixon li va preguntar quin creia que havia estat l'impacte de la Revolució Francesa. El dirigent xinès va callar uns moments i va donar una resposta que va passar a la història: “És massa aviat per valorar-ho”.

La resposta sempre s'havia posat com a exemple de la sagacitat dels xinesos i de la seva capacitat de mirar-se el món amb llarga perspectiva històrica. Ara, però, passats tants anys, el traductor de Nixon, Chas Freeman, ha decidit explicar la veritat. En Zhou Enlai creia que el president americà li estava demanant l'opinió sobre les recents revoltes socials del maig del 68 a París. El malentès implicava dos segles de diferència entre una revolució i l'altra. La resposta del xinès, doncs, no tenia res d'especial que no fos mostrar un cert sentit comú. El traductor recorda vivament la situació, però ha confessat que l'anècdota era “massa sucosa per ajustar-la a la insulsa realitat”. És evident que qui tenia autèntica sagacitat xinesa era l'anònim traductor i no pas el llegendari dirigent.

Ai, si els traductors parlessin... En cada traducció s'hi perd alguna cosa, sovint el més essencial. De fet, aquest fenomen va servir de base al poeta americà Robert Frost per donar una de les respostes més cèlebres a la pregunta “què és poesia?”. Frost va contestar: “Poesia és allò que es perd en la traducció”. Com en tantes coses de la vida, la intensitat va lligada a alguna forma d'absència.

Frog or Toad?

In 2009 Disney made an animated film called The Princess and the Frog, based on a novel (The Frog Princess by E.D. Baker). This film was dubbed into Spanish and given the name, Tiana y el Sapo. Tiana is the name of the "princess" in question, but "sapo" actually means toad, and not frog. Apparently this change in "leading animal" was made so as to tie in with a popular Spanish fairy tale about a princess kissing a toad, which then becomes a prince.

As you can see from the picture, the animal in question is clearly a frog - so was the right decision taken to change the name in the title? Would "Tiana y la Rana" have made sense? Another tricky decision for translators and, in this case, film studio bosses!

Xiuxiuejava, She whispered

Thanks to the Col·lectiu Emma we have found this delightful article published in Granta by the poet and translator, Rowan Ricardo Philips.

Translation, at the best of times, should be a form of welcome. But for me, translating from Catalan into English sometimes feels more like a form of farewell. As I work I feel both languages equally alive, equally limber; equally conversant, competitive and playful. At these moments I am free from the immense gravitational pull of English and free from the centric tug of Spanish. If only, I think to myself in the middle of a translation, I could keep both the banality of ‘she whispered’ and the absurd beauty of the original word xiuxiuejava, how by a strange twist of fate the two words strongly hint at a rhyme, how simply cool the rangy assonance of a phrase as plain as ‘Ah! Ho haveu vist?’ (‘Ah! Have you seen it?’) is for the mouth and the mind.

Has a more beautiful language ever flowered from Vulgar Latin than Catalan? This naked joy gained from the simultaneity betwixt and between two languages is the translator’s great pleasure and also, eventually, the translator’s great and inevitable loss. With Catalan I feel that loss rather sharply as the English version further comes into focus, options discarded, everything soon ossifying into the final draft and subsequent published translation. This is in part due to Catalan’s diaphanous literary status and our sad tendency to settle for the illusion of a single-tongued Spain: a mirage of a house with Castilian spackling its holes like sores. The result has been a very visitable but not entirely visible Spain. And now with economic crises everywhere you turn and fewer people visiting, Spain is clearly not well. It has sold itself until prosperous and now has spent itself to quick ruin. Let’s hope this is temporary. In the meantime, we readers should take this opportunity to get a better view inside of this imagined house. We should strip the walls and look at Spain as Spain really is, not as it’s practical for us to pretend it to be. Translation from the Catalan – as well as from Basque, Galician and the other languages of the peninsula – is one of the most useful and poignant vehicles through which to do so.

Yet translation by itself solves little. The work of translation is to act out everything and explain nothing. As your skin is not an explanation of who you are, a translation is hardly an explanation of another culture. I translate from Catalan to English not so that the latter stands in for the former but to encourage the English-language reader that much closer to Catalan culture. The rest is up to the will of the reader. May she or he strive to be a citizen of the world. This is precisely why translation is a form of farewell: it demands a letting go.

Tyrants have tried, legislators have tried – but nothing can glean a language from the face of the earth like translation. And thus although translation is essential to knowing who we are, how we live and what we have achieved, it should never become under any circumstances what will suffice.

Presentació de Plantes del Port, en anglès

Divendres dia 17 a les 19.30 al Centre del Parc Natural dels Ports, Roquetes, tindrà lloc la presentació de la traducció a l’anglès dels llibres Plantes del Port, del Grup de Recerca Científica de les Terres de l’Ebre.

Plantes del Port is a reference book in three volumes covering the amazing flora to be found in the local mountains, near Tortosa, known as El Port. A translation into English has now been published and will be presented in public on Friday the 17th at 19.30 at the El Port Natural Park’s centre in Roquetes.

Jesús Moncada - The Towpath

Ens apuntem a aquesta nova proposta de col·laboració blocaire: fer un homenatge a Jesús Moncada, avui, 13 de juny, en commemoració del 5è aniversari de la seva mort.
Fa un parell de mesos vam fer un apunt amb les primeres paraules del Camí de Sirga traduides a l'anglès (per Judith Willis, any 1994). Avuí continuem ...

To commemorate the fifth anniversary of Catalan author Jesus Moncada's premature passing away, many bloggers are today publishing something related to his work. Two months ago we posted the first few lines of his novel The Towpath in their English translation. Here's how the story continues ...

The first in chronological order - though not the most poignant - related how the clock on the belfry had stopped the previous evening against a louring backdrop of purple and sickly yellow storm-clouds streaked with black. For the chronicler this was a clear omen of what was to pass on the morrow, a sign that the past was gone for good. Another lurid account which described the night that followed this uncertain dusk was full of suspense: it mirrored indoors as the townspeople prayed that dawn should not break. The most vivid of all these recollections, however, was of the sinister bang on Horseshoe Hill at eleven o'clock the next morning; according to the chronicle, the townsfolk were profoundly shaken by the onset of the disaster.
These accounts were certainly all very impressive. But this wasn't the only factor they had in common; there was something else, something of maybe no significance, and yet it helps explain what happened that ill-starred day. They were also all, without exception, completely false.
...
I en català ...
El primer des del punt de vista cronològic, tot i que no resultava el més patètic, recollia l'aturada del rellotge del campanar esdevinguda la vigília enmig d'un capvespre tempestuós que pintava el cel de la vila amb carmins violacis, ors mortoïns i bromalles negres; segons el cronista, l'avaria era una premonició clara del que havia de passar l'endemà, un anunci del final inexorable del vell temps. L'angoixa es feia esborronadora en la descripció, deguda a un altre testimoni, de la nit a què havia donat pas la incertesa del crepuscle: la crònica parlava del silenci espès en els carrers deserts, silenci que volia reflectir el de la gent tancada a casa, pregant perquè no trenqués el dia. Tanmateix, entre les evocacions, la més colpidora era la del retruny sinistre de les onze del matí següent a la Baixada de la Ferradura: segons la crònica, els vilatans van sentir-se sotragats fins al moll de l'os pel començament del desastre.

Certament els testimonis resultaven impressionants. Ara bé, aquesta no era l'única característica que tenien en comú; en compartien una altra, potser insignificant però prou esclaridora del que va passar aquell dia nefast: tots, sense excepció, eren també absolutament falsos.

L'Hora del Lector

Avui al canal 33, el programa L’Hora del Lector parlarà de traduccions. Aquí teniu l’informació del programa:
Els traductors al català Anna Casassas, Dolors Udina i Xavier Pèmies seran els convidats de "L'hora del lector", on debatran sobre el moment actual de la traducció, amb el presentador i director del programa, Emili Manzano. Anna Casassas ha traduït, entre d'altres, obres de Jan Potocki, Claudi Magris, Giani Stuparich, Philippe Claudel, Victor Hugo, Honoré de Balzac.

Per més informació podeu mirar el web, o el bloc.

La Plaça del Diamant / The Time of the Doves

La Plaça del Diamant / The Time of the Doves, was written by Mercè Rodoreda in 1962. An English translation by David Rosenthal was published in 1981 by Graywolf Press. This “powerfully written story of a naive shop-tender during the Spanish Civil War and beyond is a rare and moving portrait of a simple soul confronting and surviving a convulsive period of history”.

La novel·la La Plaça del Diamant de Mercè Rodoreda va ser publicada en anglès a l’any 1981 amb traducció de David Rosenthal. Així comença ...

Here are the opening lines in both languages ...

La Julieta va venir expressament a la pastisseria a dir-me que, abans de rifar la toia, rifarien cafeteres; que ella ja les havia vistes: precioses, blanques, amb una taronja pintada, partida en dues meitats, que ensenyava els pinyols. Jo no tenia ganes d’anar a ballar ni tenia ganes de sortir, perquè m’havia passat el dia despatxant dolços i les puntes dels dits em feien mal de tant estrènyer cordills daurats i de tant fer nusos i agafadors. I perquè coneixia la Julieta, que a la nit no li venia de tres hores i tant li feia dormir com no dormir. Però em va fer seguir vulgues no vulgues, perquè jo era així, que patia si algú em demanava una cosa i havia de dir que no. Anava blanca de dalt a baix: el vestit i els enagos emmidonats, les sabates com un glop de llet, les arracades de pasta blanca, tres braçalets rotllana que feien joc amb les arracades i un portamonedes blanc, que la Julieta em va dir que era d’hule, amb la tanca com una petxina d’or.

Julieta came by the pastry shop just to tell me that, before they raffled off the basket of fruit and candy, they’d raffle some coffeepots. She’s already seen them: lovely white ones with oranges painted on them. The oranges were cut in half so you could see the seeds. I didn’t feel like dancing or even going out because I’d spent the day selling pastries and my fingertips hurt from tying so many gold ribbons and making so many bows and handles. And because I knew Julieta. She felt fine after three hours’ sleep and didn’t care if she slept at all. But she made me come even though I didn’t want to, because that’s how I was. It was hard for me to say no if someone asked me to do something. I was dressed all in white, my dress and petticoats starched, my shoes like two drops of milk, my earrings white enamel, three hoop bracelets that matched the earrings, and a white purse Julieta said was made of vinyl with a snap shaped like a gold shellfish.

Camí de sirga / The Towpath

Having an interest in Catalan literature as well as the world of translating, from time to time we will enclose extracts from Catalan novels alongside their published English translations.
Camí de sirga /The Towpath, was written by Jesús Moncada in 1988. An English translation by Judith Willis was published in 1994 by Harvill Harper Collins. The flooding of a small Catalan town to create a reservoir on the river Ebro is the starting point of this novel which leads us through Catalonia’s recent tragic history.

La novel·la Camí de Sirga del Jesús Moncada va ser publicada en anglès a l’any 1994 amb traducció de Judith Williams. Així comença ...

Here are the opening lines in both languages...

Pilans i parets mestres van esberlar-se bruscament; una fragor eixordadora en la qual es barrejaven el cruixir de jàsseres i bigues, l’ensulsiada d’escales, trespols, envans i revoltons, l’esmicolament de vidres i la trencadissa de maons, teules i rajoles, va retrunyir per la Baixada de la Ferradura mentre la casa s’esfondrava sense remei. De seguida, un núvol de pols, el primer dels que havien d’acompanyar la llarga agonia que començava aleshores, va elevar-se per sobre de la vila i es va esfilagarsar a poc a poc en l’aire lluminós del matí de primavera.
Anys després, quan la malesa encetada aquell dia del 1970 era memòria llunyana, temps amortallat amb teranyines de boira, una crònica anònima va aplegar un feix de testimonis colpidors sobre l’esdeveniment ...

Columns and supporting walls suddenly gave way; as the house came toppling down, Horseshoe Hill reverberated with the thunderous roar of rafters and beams creaking, stairways, ceilings, coves and partitions collapsing, glass shattering and bricks and tiles smashing. And then a cloud of dust, the first of many which were to accompany the long agony that lay ahead, rose up above the town and slowly dispersed in the bright spring morning air.
Years later, when the tragedy that began that day in 1970 had become a dim memory, time shrouded in cobwebs of mist, an anonymous chronicle collated a number of moving personal accounts of the event ...

Espejismos vistos desde el Circo Raluy

En diciembre del año pasado (2009) se publicó El Secreto de los Espejismos, un pequeño libro científico en el cual su autor expone una nueva teoría sobre los orígenes o las causas de los espejismos. Está publicado en catalán, castellano e inglés – con traducción hecha por nosotros. Ver nuestros nombres en un libro siempre es una pequeña alegría.

Aparte de nuestra implicación en el libro, y la teoría, también encontramos interesante el hecho de que esta obra sea de un autor local con una profesión poco habitual –¡nos referimos al payaso Lluis Raluy, del circo Raluy! Tener la oportunidad de conocer a Lluis y charlar un rato con él en su caravana fue una experiencia única.

El libro está editado por la editorial Cinctorres, donde podréis encontrar más información.
A continuación os adjuntamos el texto de la contraportada en castellano:

Lluís Raluy Tomás baja todos los días a la pista del Circo Raluy, con su atuendo de payaso, para generar felicidad en los niños y en los mayores. Es un hombre de una sensibilidad profunda manifestada en campos diversos, como la pintura y la música. Y, a la vez, debajo de su aspecto callejero descuidado cuando no está en la pista, se esconde una mente privilegiada para la especulación matemática y una capacidad didáctica nada frecuente entre los que se dedican a estas materias. El presente libro es una prueba fehaciente de lo que decimos. La editorial Cinctorres Club ya ha publicado la edición en inglés de una obra fundamental de nuestro autor: Ingeniosa teoría del Espacio y del Tiempo. Y se está trabajando en la segunda edición de la obra: Ámbito de los números primos, su estructura y distribución - conjetura de Goldbach, que también ha sido traducida al inglés.

Foto cedida por Jorge Lizana.

Una poema - Yeats en català

A l’any 2005, la traductora irlandesa-catalana Patrícia Manresa Ní Ríordáin i el poeta ebrenc Albert Roig van traduir l’obra de poesia L’espasa i la torre d’en W.B.Yeats de l’anglès al català. El llibre va ser publicat per Edicions 62. Clik aquí.
Aquí tenim un dels poemes.

DEATH
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone –
Man has created death.

MORT
Ni la por ni cap esperança
No vetllen l’animal que mor;
L’home espera la seua fi
Esglaiant-se, esperant-ho tot;
I moltes vegades ha mort,
I moltes ha tornat a alçar-se.
Davant dels assassins
L’orgull de l’home ferm
Respon a l’últim
Alè amb l’escarni; la mort
La coneix per dins – l’ha creat
L’home la mort.

Miratges vistos des del Circ Raluy

Al desembre de l’any passat (2009) es va publicar El Secret dels Miratges, un petit llibre científic en el qual l’autor exposa una nova teoria sobre els orígens o les causes dels miratges. Està editat en català, castellà, i anglès – amb traducció feta per nosaltres! Veure els nostres noms en un llibre sempre és una petita alegria.

A banda de la nostra implicació en el llibre, i la teoria en si, també trobem interessant el fet de que aquesta obra sigui d’un autor local amb una professió poc habitual – ens referim al pallasso Lluis Raluy, del Circ Raluy! A més a més de la feina en si, poder conèixer a Lluis i xerrar amb ell dins de la seva caravana va ser una experiència única.

El llibre està editat per l’editorial Cinctorres, on es pot trobar més informació. A continuació us adjuntem el text de la contraportada en català:

El Pallasso Matemàtic. Lluís Raluy Tomás surt tots els dies a la pista del Circ Raluy, vestit de pallasso, per fer feliços a nens i grans. És un home de sensibilitat profunda, manifestada en diversos camps, com ara la música o la pintura. I, al mateix temps, més enllà del seu aspecte despreocupat quan no es troba a la pista, el nostre pallasso té una ment privilegiada per a l’especulació matemàtica, i una capacitat didàctica que no és freqüent en els que es dediquen a aquestes tasques.
Aquest llibre és una prova fefaent del que estem dient. L’editorial Cinctorres Club ja va publicar la traducció anglesa d’una obra fonamental del nostre autor: Ingeniosa teoría del Espacio y del Tiempo. Actualment estem treballant en la segona edició de l’obra, Ámbito de los números primos, su estructura y distribución, conjetura de Goldbach, que també ha estat traduïda a l’anglès.

Foto de Lluís cedida per Jorge Lizana – click aquí per altres fotos seves.

Translating, mathematics, and clowns.

The Secret of Mirages, published in December 2009, explains and questions the traditional scientific theories of the creation of mirages and proposes a plausible new theory.
This book means a lot to us for different reasons. We were fortunate enough to be asked to do the English translation and, through our work, got to know the author, Lluís Raluy quite well. Although Lluís has published several books relating to physics and mathematics, his “day job” is not the first one to come to mind. He is in fact a clown (and part-owner) of the traditional Catalan circus, Circ Raluy. The Raluy family has been involved in circuses for over 70 years, running their own one – with its home-base a mere 10km from us here in the south of Catalonia - since the 1970s. Translating the book, working with Lluís, ringside circus tickets and meeting him in his 1930s circus caravan was an unforgettable experience.

The Secret of Mirages has been published in English, Catalan, and Spanish, and is available from the Cinctorres Club publishing house.

The text from the book’s back cover:
Day in day out, Lluís Raluy Tomas, the clown, steps out into the circus ring bringing joy to young and old alike. Lluís’s deep sensitivity can be seen in his painting and music. At the same time, behind the seemingly careless appearance he offers us off-stage, we can find a privileged mind with an ability for mathematical thinking and didactic explanations rarely found among others in this field.
This book is proof of this. Cinctorres has already published an earlier fundamental work of the author in English: An ingenious theory of Space and Time. At present a second edition of another book, also translated into English, is being prepared: The scope of prime numbers - Their structure and distribution - The Goldbach conjecture.

English o Català?

Hi ha paraules que sovint emprem en la nostra llengua però que a tots ens sonen a paraules angleses. Resulta que no sempre ho són, o almenys no tenen el mateix significat en anglès que el que se’ls dóna en català.
Per exemple, en català tothom ha sentit parlar d’un càmping, un lloc on podem acampar. En anglès la forma “a camping” no existeix ja que no és cap substantiu sinó una acció (camping = acampant/acampar). Per referir-nos a un lloc hem de dir “ a camp-site” i en català podríem dir “zona d’acampada”.

Fer footing s’empra com a sinònim d’anar a córrer. En anglès córrer es pot dir "running" (amb un caire més professional), o "jogging" (com a exercici sa), però mai footing. L’únic sentit que té la paraula "footing" en anglès és la de les relacions o fonaments d’alguna relació. "To be on a good footing” amb algú, vol dir tenir bones relacions amb aquella persona.

D’on vénen aquestes paraules aparentment angleses, doncs? Jo diria que és una petita moda per agafar sons anglesos però sense entrar en l’ús correcte de la llengua. Dos exemples més de “màrketing” (això sí que és anglès) que utilitzen paraules que sonen angleses (però que no ho són), són el sistema de llogar bicicletes que han instal·lat a Barcelona, i que han anomenat “bicing”, o l’empresa de vols de baix cost que es diu Vueling.

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!

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.

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.

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.

De Spielberg a Larsson

Una cosa que sempre sorprèn a tothom és veure que els títols de les pel·lícules o dels llibres canvien bastant en passar d’una llengua a una altra. Sovint es canvien per a afegir més informació ja que potser per motius de cultura o història, no s’entendria tan bé el títol original en un altre idioma. També es canvien per qüestió d’estil o d’estètica.

Em venen al cap 3 o 4 exemples ... qui voldria veure una pel·lícula anomenada Mandíbules? Aquest era el títol original (Jaws) de Tauró (o Tiburón com segur que es més coneguda).

Amb un canvi subtil, Finding Nemo (Trobant a Nemo) es va convertir en català a Buscant en Nemo.

La pel·lícula His Girl Friday (la seva noia, divendres) es diu Lluna nova en català – en anglès el títol fa referència a l’amic de Robinson Crusoe, Divendres, i així implica tenir algú a qui obligues a fer feina.

La pel·lícula Miller’s Crossing dels germans Coen (la cruïlla de Miller) aquí es va dir Mort entre les flors.

L’amic blocaire, Emigdi Subirats, ens va explicar un altre cas fa uns dies. A la novel·la, La Plaça del Diamant de Mercè Rodoreda, en anglès li han posat el títol The Time Of The Doves (l’hora dels coloms).

I per a acabar parlem dels llibres de moda d’enguany, la trilogia de Stieg Larsson. El títol en català, Els homes que no estimaven les dones, és una traducció literal del títol original en suec. En anglès, però, li diuen The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (la noia amb el tatuatge de drac).
La segona novel·la en anglès és diu The Girl Who Played With Fire (la noia que jugava amb foc) mentre que en català és La noia que somiava un llumí i un bidó de gasolina. És la traducció directa del títol original que Larsson volia usar però que els editors van canviar. De fet es va publicar a Suècia com La Noia Que Jugava Amb Foc.

La tercera, en suec, es diu El Palau d’Aire Que Va Explotar (encara que Larsson volia La Reina al Palau d’Aire), tenint en compte que l’expressió palau d’aire en suec és l’equivalent a l’expressió catalana, un castell de cartes, una cosa molt precària. En anglès, és The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest (la noia que va donar una puntada de peu al niu de vespes) i aquí, en català, es diu La reina al palau dels corrents d’aire.

El traductor dels llibres, del suec a l’anglès, explica alguns d’aquests canvis al seu bloc. Personalment sense haver llegit els llibres no puc opinar sobre les meves preferències. Veig que en anglès la trilogia té com a constant La Noia ..., però en català els primers dos títols són més atractius per a mi.

Presentació

Avui estrenem bloc. Som un anglès i una catalana que entre els dos sumem més de 35 anys treballant en el món de les llengües, sense deixar d’estudiar en cap moment. Sessions de contes, classes, ajuts i consells, revisions, traduccions - treballant en parella tenim l’avantatge de poder traduir sempre de llengua materna a llengua materna. Comencem un bloc amb l’objectiu de donar-nos a conèixer i anar compartint notícies inusuals, anècdotes, comentaris, pistes, consells, fragments de literatura i altres petits tresors que anem trobant relacionats amb l’univers de les paraules.

Brian, from England, and Sílvia, from Catalonia. Between us we have over 35 years experience working in the field of languages. Story-telling, classes, preparation, advice, proof-reading, translations – working together we have the added advantage of being able to translate from one mother tongue to another mother tongue, between Catalan, Spanish and English. The aims of this blog are twofold; to let people know about our work, and to share anecdotes, opinions, unusual facts, help for learners, literature, news and other small treasures we come across in our work and studies.

Hoy estrenamos blog. Somos un inglés y una catalana que entre ambos sumamos más de 35 años trabajando en el mundo de las lenguas, sin dejar de estudiar en ningún momento. Conta-contes, clases, ayuda y consejos, revisiones, traducciones – al trabajar en pareja tenemos la ventaja de poder traducir siempre de lengua materna a lengua materna. Empezamos un blog con el objetivo de darnos a conocer e ir compartiendo noticias inusuales, anécdotas, comentarios, pistas, consejos, fragmentos de literatura y otros pequeños tesoros que vamos encontrando relacionados con el universo de las palabras.