- Posted by Stephen Whiteley
- On 25/05/2011
- Let's say it's research
…the pick of what we’ve been posting on the QuickSilver Facebook page this month…
Two topical articles about languages in Europe, one on how 90% of European internet users prefer to surf in their own language, and the other from the BBC on the fact that that poor language skills mean British people are missing out on EU jobs. And here is the website of the The European Observatory for Plurilingualism (which is mainly in French…).
Common European thought is the fruit of the immense toil of translators. Without translators, Europe would not exist; translators are more important than members of the European Parliament. (Milan Kundera)
‘La hora de un traductor vale como la de la limpieza’, a provocative article from El País. On which note, here is ‘To sign or not to sign’ an interview with Chris Durban on the question of whether translators should ‘sign their work’.
This fantastic article from the Guardian compiles jokes from around the world. It’s worth checking out the comments section, where people have posted jokes from their own countries.
A monday morning pickmeup, Tom Tom Club’s 1981 multilingual disco classic Wordy Rappinghood.
Here is a panopoly of podcasts of poetry in translation from the Poetry Translation Centre, and here John Ashberry reading his scintillating new versions of Rimbaud’s Illuminations. And I will leave you with the winner of the poetry section of this year’s Three Percent Best Translated Book awards, Brian Henry’s versions of Slovenian Aleš Šteger:
Who are you, where do you come from, with whom do you walk to visit?
In her eyes your time is running in place.
That is why she forgives footsteps gone astray.
Forgives the lame, the rash, the drunk.
He who crosses over her cheek is not a trespasser.
She wipes your feet in her hair.
Wipes your name in hers. Until it is untranslatable.
She is not here to disclose directions. She is not there to reveal the way.
She accepts you as part of the scenery from which you come.
As part of the scenery into which you disappear.
The hairpieces sometimes wakes you with a tickle.
Then pure dirt flakes from words.
A voice clears its throat from traveling silently.
But she overtakes him: Enter in peace. Enter in peace.
She loves the invisible passages between questions.
What hurts, falls through her. The answer is always love.
— Aleš Šteger