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Saturday, February 18th, 2012
sà sÃ, tu aviso estóy escuchando pero hallo que no me importa esto rodeo del confesionario dar, del medio narrativo, del reflejo retro. Asà afirmando, estóy la suerte cerrando: no me debo preocupar de que puedo me apartar del camino recto y angosto
y vago garabatear la escrita mustia de disculpa.
En cambio, me gloriaré -- en todo caso, fanfarronearse es una forma de confesionario, ¿verdad? Cantaré autodescriptivamente qui quiri quÃ,
fingiré que mi ceguera perpleja fuera alguna ventana.
posted evening of February 18th, 2012: Respond
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Thursday, February 16th, 2012
Thanks to Damir Galaz-Mandakovic Fernández of Tocopilla y su historia for running this report on Domingo Zárate Vega's visit to Tocopilla in 1932. The photo is from a local newspaper.
In 1932, in a time of chaos, misery and crisis in the country and likewise at the local level, there appeared in Tocopilla a figure both picturesque and controversial, of national fame, named Domingo Zárate, alias ‘The Christ of Elqui.’ He was a preacher who had taken up travelling throughout Chile and the neighboring countries, Bolivia and Peru, after he learned of his mother's death in 1922. Ever since then, as a form of penitence, he had devoted his life to evangelical sermons, had given up his clothing for a simple sackcloth and sandals, had let his hair and his beard grow unchecked. Hundreds of people came to hear his preachings; children were scared by his strange appearance, which provoked jeers and catcalls from the unfaithful -- he would reply in his own defense, ‘...better to be serious than to jest, especially when we are dealing with the Gospel. They will laugh at me, perfect, it is not the first time, not for Our Lord Jesus Christ; the public will have its say...’ (Revista Sucesos 1932 p. 7: Universidad de Tarapacá archive)
posted evening of February 16th, 2012: Respond
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Sunday, February 12th, 2012
 Matthew's posting of an article about fonts at Google+ reminds me that I have not posted yet about the recent typeface change at READIN -- partly or mostly out of the conviction that it is not the sort of thing that would make any difference to anybody who is not me... But what are blogs for if not stuff that would make no difference to anybody but the author?
Lately I have been writing everything (everything I write on the computer that is not code) in Palatino Linotype, and finding that it is much easier on the eyes than any other typeface I have tried. (I do not love the numerals; but most of what I write in non-programming contexts is alpha characters.) So I modified the site's stylesheet to specify that typeface name as the primary choice; if you have the face installed (and it seems to be pretty standard-issue), that's how the site should render. Giovambattista Palatino was an Italian calligrapher of the 16th C., who in 1556 wrote a manual of lettering styles. Hermann Zapf is a German typeface designer of the 20th C., who in 1948 named a set of faces after Sig. Palatino.
posted morning of February 12th, 2012: Respond
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Saturday, February 11th, 2012
(Continuing in this year's theme of re-readings:) A correspondent has gotten me back interested in Domingo Zárate Vega and The Art of Resurrection. This is the frontspiece to the book,  a pastoral letter written on the 25th of February, 1931, by the bishop of La Serena, José MarÃa Caro; in my own rough/not-fully-coherent translation (original at Casa del Libro):
Dear children of Our Lord:
What has been transpiring among you has filled with grief your bishop's heart.
A poor demented man presents himself among you -- one like those who fill our madhouses; and the faithful (I include in this adjective all those who go to church and who comply with their religion, fulfill their sacred duties) have received him as God's messenger, as the Messiah himself, no less, and have made themselves his apostles, his flock.
And meanwhile the faithful -- the judicious, the educated faithful -- have been tolerating this scandal, this blasphemy, tolerating mockery from these faithless maniacs; whose meanness of consciousness seizes any occasion to display its own lack of taste, lack of discretion, of appreciation for the things and people most worthy of universal respect and veneration... How can such a thing have happened -- how can such a hallucination be contagious? Our Lord has permitted it as a punishment for some one and as a humiliation for many.
We are all sensible enough to tell when someone else is in his right mind and when he has lost it. If among you, some poor campesino stood up and claimed in all seriousness, to be the King of England, if he surrounded himself with ministers (like such a king), and wore a special gown to show his office... Is there anyone among you, even a single one, who would not see the madness such a poor man was suffering from? Wouldn't it be the same if he claimed to be Our Holy Father?
And yet there are those among you who do not recognize his madness, because he claims to be not a person of this world, but nothing less than King of Kings and Lord of Lords himself. I repeat myself, our madhouses are full of just such things... Will any one among you let himself be led by the hallucinations of such a madman?
I pray that you, you who have suffered before this spectacle, will assist with your charity, with your prayers and with your counsels in ridding us of this contagious madness.
I ask, for the love of God and of one's brother, the love that we all must bear, I ask that you do everything, with your parish in mind, devote every force to keeping from this danger those who might fall into it, and to bringing back those who have been lost to this madness.
I hope, besides this, that when the authorities come to understand this evil, as I have demonstrated it to you, they will bring some remedy, will separate this danger from us all.
I wish you peace and felicity in Our Lord.
José MarÃa Caro
Caro RodrÃguez would later be named (by Pius â…«) Archbishop of Santiago and a Cardinal of the Catholic church, the first Chilean Cardinal. I could swear I saw a better translation of this letter somewhere, when I was first reading The Art of Resurrection. But am forgetting where now, or by whom.
posted evening of February 11th, 2012: 1 response
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Friday, February 10th, 2012
Glad to see you! Have a look around...
posted afternoon of February 10th, 2012: Respond
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Thursday, February second, 2012
Parecido a las otras utilizaciones de los labios y las manos, como sonreÃr, acariciar, enfurruñarse y pegar puñetazos, el ruido vocal hace enlaces entre la gente que desean o necesitan ser conectado -- para el apoyo reciproco o para establecer la jerarquÃa o para declarar la hostilidad, por ejemplo. Asà vemos que la canguro que hace monerÃas al niño realiza un acción lingüistica similar en general al escolar ambicioso que me saluda con un tono ascendente en la última sÃlaba del «Good morning, sir.» Y si esas acciónes sean comunicaciones, entonces necesitamos redefinir la comunicación: no como la transmisión entre A y B de estados mentales, menos aún como la transmisión de «informaciones», sino como la establecimiento, el refuerzo, la modificación de relaciones interpersonales del momento. Y serÃa mejor decir, no es comunicación, sino lenguaje. El lenguaje es una manera humana de relacionar a otros seres humanos.
...
El cuento de Babel se equivoca: el uso primordial del discurso humano fue más probable ser diferente, no el mismo.
-- D. Bellos
¿Es un pez en tu oreja?
posted evening of February second, 2012: Respond
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Wednesday, February first, 2012
 There aren't any words in the Bible anyways, let alone jokes,
I wouldn't worry so much about translating it,
about being swept into its blank void,
slipping frictionless and lucid across its empty page.
Those who have preceded you have left no spoor, no trace,
that you can make out anyways, and yet you know
full well their journey and retrace it.
Rilke asked who'd hear him,
among the choirs of heaven or
among the rankèd Angels or among their hierarchy, or something,
if he cried out -- and your throat is still,
your sigh is dead a-borning. Candle's flicker casts its shadows
among the ranked symbols and their blanknesses,
their blacknesses:
this yellowing forest of text.
posted evening of February first, 2012: 1 response
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Ninguna palabra contiene el Biblio en todo caso, ninguna broma,
no tenga tanto miedo de traducirlo,
de dejarte arrastrado por su blanco vacÃo
deslizarte sin fricción y lúcido a través de la página.
Ellos quienes te precedÃan ninguno rastro han dejado,
ninguno que se puede observar, pero conoces
Ãntimamente este huela que retrazas.
There aren't any words in the Bible anyways, let alone jokes,
I wouldn't worry so much about translating it,
about being swept into its blank void,
slipping frictionless and lucid across its empty page.
Those who have preceded you have left no spoor, no trace,
that you can make out anyways, and yet you know
full well their journey and retrace it.
posted evening of February first, 2012: Respond
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Monday, January 30th, 2012
Los traductores traducen por traición (y por hoy casi como mandato) de un idioma extranjero a lo que se llama su lengua materna. En la jerga de los estudios de traducción, éso se llama traducción L1, a diferencia de la traducción L2, que se dice traducción hacia un idioma entendido, un otro idioma. Pero, ¿qué significa una lengua materna?
-- D. Bellos
¿Es un pez en tu oreja?
Me divertaba en los últimos dÃas, traduciendo de lo que se llama mi lengua materna a un idioma extranjero. ¿Por qué? Es divertido, delantero, y me hice pensar en el sentido de las palabras. Aún no he logrado cuantificar qué es, que me tan atractivo parece en relación con el bilingüismo... Todo que ha podido pensar degrada últimamente a tautologia.Examinando más tarde la declaración del San Jerónimo -- Ego enim non solum fateor, sed libera voce profiteor me in interpretatione Graecorum absque scripturis sanctis ubi et verborum ordo mysterium est non verbum e verbo sed sensum exprimere de sensu -- escribe Bellos que el San Jerónimo quizás trataba sobre un verdadero problema para los traductores: ¿cómo tratar los expresiones que no entiendes? En la lectura y la plática cotidiana nos acostumbramos a pasar por encima de tales expresiones, el sentido interpretando del contexto.
Donde el contexto no basta por interpretar, pasamos por encima. ¡Pasamos por alto todo el tiempo! Nadie entiende todas las palabras de Les Misérables, pero éso no mantiene nadie de disfrutar la novela de Hugo. Pero los traductores no se les permite pasar por alto.
posted evening of January 30th, 2012: Respond
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Saturday, January 28th, 2012
de "Cosas que se dicen sobre la traducción"
por David Bellos
¿Es un pez en tu oreja?: La traducción y el sentido de todo
CapÃtulo 4
(porque me está gustando traducir de un lenguaje que conozco solamente corto en inglés: intentamos el proceso al revés...)
La noción de que una traducción no se buen sustituye a la obra original debemos también someter a otra crÃtica. Se ese refrán esté válido, ¿qué reciban los lectores de una obra traducida? Por supuesto no la cosa auténtica. Pero más lejos, ni siquiera una sustituto: ni siquiera una Nescafé literaria. Afirmar la naturaleza irreemplazable del texto original los condena a ellos quienes no puedan leer el lenguaje en cuestión, a beber no Nescafé sino lavazas. Existiese ninguna opinión sobre el texto en que se vale creer, a menos que uno puede leer la obra original.Y aún es verdad, los ejemplos de Cervantes, Walpole, MacPherson, Gary, Guilleragues, Makine, Clifford y otras también se demuestren que nunca podemos estar seguros de que leemos una obra original.
Ismail Kadare recuenta otra historia sobre la dificultad de distinguir entre textos originales y traducidos en su novela memorial, Chronicle in Stone. Teniendo luego diez años, se fue encantado de un libro que lo regaló un tÃo de él. Su historia de fantasmas, de castillos, asesinos, traiciones le gustaba inmensamente, precisamente porque parecÃa explicar en parte las circunstancias que a él alrededor tenÃan lugar, en la ciudad fortificada de Gjirokastër durante esos años de guerras y disputas. Eso libro fue Macbeth, por William Shakespeare. El joven Ismail podÃa ver a la Dama Macbeth en su propia calle, se las manos retorciendo en el balcón, las cosas terribles lavándose que le sucedÃan en la casa. TenÃa ninguna idea de que este libro ha sido traducido de inglés. Fascinado infantilmente con un muchas veces releÃdo texto, copiaba sus palabras; preguntado hoy por los periodistas el tÃtulo de su primero libro escrito, responde siempre Macbeth, y hasta no más que la mitad de bromo. De cualquier modo que fue la traducción buena o mala, que a él tan le inspiró, seguramente no fue lavazas. Mucho mejor un elixir.
posted evening of January 28th, 2012: 1 response
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