True art selects and paraphrases, but seldom gives a verbatim translation.
quote by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afraid To Love
So seldom does she think of love
and seldom does she want to.
It isn't that she's cold or bad,
it's that she cannot hold you.
If she were to allow herself
to hunger for your kiss,
her heart would be like jelly
and many beats would miss.
So seldom she allows herself
this pleasure and this pain
for she would surely die for love
and cannot take the strain.
If you would promise faithfully
to be her true, true friend.
To comfort her and cherish her
and be there at her end.
But life is such a fickle beast
and even though she cares.
She cannot, no she dare not
offer love and be ensnared.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Woman has taken over
Mane, hair, crest are all the male adornments
To claim the acceptance of the best female.
In the human kingdom, it is women who are adorned
With long hair, costumes and cosmetics.
.
Cow selects bull. Man selects woman
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Panicked If a Pill Popping Is Missed
There will always be those,
Who say they believe in God.
And quote verbatim...
Memorized Biblical scriptures.
And proud of themselves,
That they can do this.
As they frown upon those sinners picked.
The ones they find to pass their judgements.
And first they are to question 'Why'?
God selects them to be tested!
Pill poppers...
Yes.
These people seeking peaceful sleep.
But their minds at night,
Are left unrested.
No peace of mind comes for them to keep.
Although they protest the lives lived by others...
Aren't lived according to God's wishes and beliefs.
And yet,
Those who manage to live their lives,
Thankful to express...
God keeps them blessed!
Have no problems getting to sleep.
Sometimes to rise before dawn.
And feeling quite rested.
But also they find they are too busy...
To have time to moralize!
Or find they need to refill prescriptions.
To become panicked,
If a pill popping is missed.
As a qualified doctor prescribes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Eyes Of Truth
(curly m.c.)
.
The eyes of truth
Are always watching you.
Mongolian chant translation
Alsyn gazryn zeregleenn
Aduu shig mal shig torolzonoo khuoo
(translation:
In the distance the mirage stands out like
Horses and cattle.
Very glad to see my beloved son.
--- sandras whispers ---
Je me regarde
Je me sens
Je vois des enfants
Je suis enfant !
(translation:
I look at myself
I feel myself
I see the children
I am a child! )
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A translation is no translation, he said, unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.
quote by John Millington Synge
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The best thing on translation was said by Cervantes: translation is the other side of a tapestry.
quote by Leonardo Sciascia
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Translation of Ancient Epigrams
From Latin, Greek, to English presses,
‘tis rare that e’er the pith impresses.
Th’original oft effervesces
with sparkle, spite, delight, mistresses,
Spartan prowess, Roman fortresses,
maids like Mycilla, bought braids, tresses.
Who, living, the true jest possesses,
is past: - and all the rest is guesses.
Most amateur attempts are messes,
betray the sense, so each depresses.
Stray copies seldom seem successes,
translation tritely turned distresses,
and everybody who professes
ability thereat the less is!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Japanese version comes with a translation, but that's different from the lyrics, so people could look things up and find a translation of their own if they're interested.
quote by Utada Hikaru
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Post
Somehow,
I found myself lost in a familiar landscape
that suddenly appeared alien and heavenly—
white
in the absence
of however death felt—
and I was hunting for time in hypertext.
Unaware was I
of the scope of my distraction,
following the skimmed passages
of half-fact with half a half-life,
decaying in the brief tapping
of each second's slovenly click.
I was tapered
to the staccato immersion,
collecting the rifled, jutted,
haphazardly dispensed pornography
of Information—
flooding
forth,
disjointed, overlapping bursts
bustling over each other,
skittering
the shrapnel of thought.
All separated.
All eroded—
the paradigms
which once felt stead,
linear—
as if narrative
could calm and concentrate
the chaos of the world,
controlling what is out of control—
that which can control.
I find my eyes tipping,
rebounding up,
my pupils dilating, utter
FOCUS
perturbing the plastic warps
and elastic renegotiations
of what was once
THE
MIND.
I find my eyes skipping
over paraphrases of
of paraphrases, scanning for
pertinence, connecting the
the ever-scrambled dots, ,
repeating them to myself
until they make
sense…
Somehow,
consciousness composed itself
by stripping itself of itself.
Somehow.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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The true blessing of spring
when the lark, the nightingale and thrush sing
is like the most sincere friends that seldom meet
or maybe each other seldom in goodbye greet
as it’s a seasonal thing which is reoccurring.
quote by by Gert Strydom
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Dead Love
Oh never weep for love that’s dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Then harbour no smile on your bonny face
To win the deepest sigh.
The fairest words on truest lips
Pass on and surely die,
And you will stand alone, my dear,
When wintry winds draw nigh.
Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,
For this God has not given.
If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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For the version of this CD released in Japan, a translation of the English lyrics is included, but there are lots of places where meanings are lost in the process of translation.
quote by Utada Hikaru
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen in Emma
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Simple, Seldom and Sad
Simple, seldom and sad
We are;
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar,
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful
So we're told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea -
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry,
sensitive, seldom and sad -
sensitive, seldom and sad.
poem by Mervyn Peake
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The true gourmet, like the true artist, is one of the unhappiest creatures existent. His trouble comes from so seldom finding what he constantly seeks: perfection.
quote by Ludwig Bemelmans
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Kometenmelodie
[Lyrics are an excerpt of "The Heaven Prolog" from Faust - Wolfgang von Goethe. In this masterpiece, these lines are said by Raphael archangel]
Die sonne toent nach alter weise
In brudersphaeren wettgesang
Und ihre vorgeschriebene reise
vollendet sie mit donnergang
[Translation 1:]
The sun sounds out in an old manner
In a fraternal vocal competition
And its prescribed course
Reaches a conclusion with a thunder
[Translation 2:]
The sun intones its ancient song
Mid rival chant of brother spheres
Its predestined course it speeds along
In thund?rous march throughout the years
[Translation 3:]
The sun intones, in ancient tourney
With brother-spheres, a rival song
Fulfilling its predestined journey
With march of thunder moves along
[Translation 4:]
The sun is chanting his ancient song
In contest with the brother spheres
Rolling with thunder steps along
Down the predestined course of years
song performed by by Kraftwerk
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The Language of Translation
What could be a better language than the language of translation
A white curtain on which
All our handiwork stands apart like dirt
All crimes are perpetrated in mother tongues
Which always contain a discourse on innocence
There are times
When translation is the only place that has a remnant of sorts
The sound of tyranny in the native tongue
Is killing sympathy!
(Translated from Hindi by Bharatbhooshan Tiwari)
poem by Asad Zaidi
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I was helped by having a verbatim memory of what happened years ago, even if I can't remember what happened a couple of days ago.
quote by James Herriot
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Poets Lost In Translation
several differing translations
of some masterpiece poems
written by immortal poets
timeless especially esteemed
written in foreign languages
stresses how much poetry
suffers lost in translation
it is the hardest literary
medium to translate due
to the multiple meanings
of some words choice chosen
in the original mother language
the wonderful poetic effects
linking such words achieves
resonates in receptive souls
Is a good translation only
achieved when the translator
is a poet with a mother tongue
knowledge of both languages
in use vibrating admiration?
Is an intimate knowledge
a unique empathic sensitivity
for chosen poet in translation
a prime necessity in translating
feelings emotions ideals writ?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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