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Spanish to English: Second ProZ.com Translation Contest 2007 - Entry #620
Source text - Spanish TÚ sobrevivirás: volverás a rozar las sábanas y sabrás que has sobrevivido, a pesar del tiempo y el movimiento que a cada instante acortan tu fortuna: entre la parálisis y el desenfreno está la línea de la vida: la aventura: imaginarás la seguridad mayor, jamás moverte: te imaginarás inmóvil, el resguardo del peligro, del azar, de la incertidumbre: tu quietud no detendrá al tiempo que corre sin ti, aunque tú lo inventes y midas, al tiempo que niega tu inmovilidad y te somete a su propio peligro de extinción: aventurero, medirás tu velocidad con la del tiempo:
el tiempo que inventarás para sobrevivir, para fingir la ilusión de una permanencia mayor sobre la tierra: el tiempo que tu cerebro creará a fuerza de percibir esa alternación de luz y tinieblas en el cuadrante del sueño; a fuerza de retener esas imágenes de la placidez amenazada por los cúmulos concentrados y negros de las nubes, el anuncio del trueno, la posteridad del rayo, la descarga turbonada de la lluvia, la aparición segura del arco iris; a fuerza de escuchar las llamadas cíclicas de los animales en el monte; a fuerza de gritar los signos del tiempo: aullido del tiempo de la guerra, aullido del tiempo del luto, aullido del tiempo de la fiesta; a fuerza, en fin , de decir el tiempo, de hablar el tiempo, de pensar el tiempo inexistente de un universo que no lo conoce porque nunca empezó y jamás terminará: no tuvo principio, no tendrá fin y no sabe que tú inventarás una medida del infinito, una reserva de razón:
tú inventarás y medirás un tiempo que no existe, tú sabrás, tu discernirás, enjuiciarás, calcularás, imaginarás, prevendrás, acabarás por pensar lo que no tendrá otra realidad que la creada en tu cerebro, aprenderás a dominar tu violencia para dominar la de tus enemigos.
Translation - English You will survive. You will again feel the sheets brush your skin and will know you have survived, despite time and movement curtailing your destiny at every turn. Between paralysis and wild abandon lies life’s line. Adventure. You will imagine the greatest security, never moving. You will imagine yourself motionless. The guardian of danger, chance and uncertainty. Your stillness will not stop time passing without you, although you invent and measure it. It will not stop time denying your immobility and put you at your own risk of extinction. Adventurer, you will measure your speed against time’s own.
The time you invent to survive, to feign the illusion of a greater permanence on earth. The time your brain creates, endeavouring to perceive this alternation of light and shadow within part of a dream. Trying to hold onto these images of calm that are threatened by the gathering storm clouds. The promise of thunder. The delayed thunderbolt. The heavy downpour. The inevitable rainbow. By dint of listening to the seasonal cries of animals on the mountain; by calling out the signs of time itself; the howling of wartime, the howling of mourning, the howling of party-time. By trying to say time, to talk time, to think about the inexistent time of a universe that does not know you because it never began and will never end. It has no beginning and will have no end. It does not know that you will invent a measurement of infinity, a reserve of reason.
You will invent and measure a time that does not exist. You will know, you will distinguish, you will judge, calculate, imagine, prevent. You will end up thinking something that has no reality other than the one inside your own head. You will learn to control your violence in order to control that of your enemies.
Spanish to English: 6th ProZ.com Translation Contest - Entry #4442
Source text - Spanish ¿Dónde estás, Lamia, en qué playa, en qué cama, en qué lobby de hotel te alcanzará esta carta que entregaré a un empleado indiferente para que le ponga los sellos y me indique el precio del franqueo sin mirarme, sin más que repetir los gestos de la rutina? Todo es impreciso, posible e improbable: que la leas, que no te llegue, que te llegue y no la leas, entregada a juegos más ceñidos; o que la leas entre dos tragos de vino, entre dos respuestas a esas preguntas que siempre te harán las que viven la indecible fortuna de compartirte en una mesa o una reunión de amigos; sí, un azar de instantes o de humores, el sobre que asoma en tu bolso y que decides abrir porque te aburres, o que hundes entre un peine y una lima de uñas, entre monedas sueltas y pedazos de papel con direcciones o mensajes. Y si la lees, porque no puedo tolerar que no la leas aunque sólo sea para interrumpirla con un gesto de hastío, si la lees hasta aquí, hasta esta palabra aquí que se aferra a tus ojos, que busca guardar tu mirada en lo que sigue, si la lees, Lamia, qué puede importarte lo que quiero decirte, no ya que te amo porque eso lo sabes desde siempre y te da igual y no es noticia, realmente no es noticia para ti allá donde estés amando a otra o solamente mirando el río de mujeres que el viento de la calle acerca a tu mesa y se lleva en lentas bordadas, cediéndote por un instante sus singladuras y sus máscaras de proa, las regatas multicolores que alguna ganará sin saberlo cuando te levantes y la sigas, la vuelvas única en la muchedumbre del atardecer, la abordes en el instante preciso, en el portal exacto donde tu sonrisa, tu pregunta, tu manera de ofrecer la llave de la noche sean exactamente halcón, festín, hartazgo.
Translation - English Where are you, Lamia? On what beach, in which bed or hotel lobby will this letter reach you? – this self-same letter I will hand to an indifferent clerk to put a stamp on and tell me the postage costs without even glancing up at me, just going through the motions. Everything seems vague, possible, improbable. You might read the letter, it might not arrive, it might arrive and you might not read it, you might be engaged in other, more dangerous games. Or you might read it between sips of wine; between replies to those questions you’ll always be asked by those that have the inexplicable luck of sharing a table with you, or at a party. Yes, it’s all down to good timing and good humour. The envelope that appears in your bag that you decide to open because you’re bored or lies hidden between a comb or nail file, between loose change and bits of paper with addresses and messages. And if you do read it, and I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t, even if you just stopped short with a weary sigh, even if you read up to here, up to this word here, the one that catches your eye, and tries to hold your gaze onto what follows,
even if you do read it, Lamia, what importance can any of my words have for you? Not that I don’t love you - you’ve always known I do and you don’t care, that’s yesterday’s news. It’s just old news for you over there, probably loving someone else or idly inspecting the waves of women the wind from the street sweeps up to your table then, steering a slow, steady course, parades them in front of you like figureheads, letting you catch a glimpse in a rainbow-coloured boat race that someone will win without being aware when you get up and follow her, singling her out from the evening crowd, approaching her at the same moment, in the very doorway where your smile, your questions, your way of offering the key to the night are exactly the same – like a bird of prey, joyous and jaded.
Source text - Portuguese (EU) Não me interpretem mal. Eu até gosto de ir ao ski. Mas sou obrigada a reconhecer que não nasci para os desportos. Nem de Verão, nem de Inverno. Quando era miúda e me vi subitamente privada de fazer ginástica graças a uma febre reumática que me interditou todo os movimentos mais bruscos do que ler, desenhar, escrever e ouvir música, dei graças a Deus por não ser obrigada a fazer aqueles exercícios todos duas vezes por semana, alguns com aparelhos, tipo cavalo de Arção, nos quais eu era mais do que desajeitada.
Não é portanto de admirar a catástrofe em que redundou a minha primeira ida ao ski. Ainda não tinha vinte anos, o que para aprender a jogar Scrabble não é tarde, mas para começar a fazer ski já se revela problemático.
E como os amigos iam todos, lá fui eu, convencida que aquilo devia ser tão fácil como saltar à corda. O resultado foi desastroso: ao fim de três dias de choros, fitas, pânico de entrar nas cadeirinhas em movimento, infindáveis sucessões de quedas à entrada e saída dos teleskis, consegui muito a medo descer a minha primeira pista verde. Com a diferença que, enquanto toda a gente desceu em dois minutos, eu demorei cerca de quarenta. E só quando cheguei lá abaixo e me admirei com o frio que sentia nos pés, verifiquei que me tinha esquecido de apertar as botas. Não é fantástico?
A moral desta triste história, é que passei rapidamente a ser grande fanática do... après-ski. Aquelas botifarras confortáveis faziam-me sentir qual Neil Armstrong ao pisar, peregrino, o solo lunar. Com elas dei grandes passeatas, sempre com um livrinho e um caderninho para escrevinhar, enquanto bebia um chocolate quente na esplanada para matar o tempo.(...)
Quando voltei a casa, declarei publicamente que nunca mais ninguém me voltaria a ver com skis nos pés. Mas com o passar dos anos, as saudades da montanha e da neve começaram a moer-me a existência e acabei por voltar, outra, e outra vez, até me habituar.
Hoje, sou uma péssima esquiadora, mas pelo menos divirto-me. E depois, tudo o que é verdadeiramente difícil, dá outro sabor à vida.
Translation - English Don’t get me wrong. I actually do like skiing. But I have to accept that I’m not a natural at any kind of sport, summer or winter. When I was little, and found myself unexpectedly forbidden to do P.E. because of an attack of rheumatic fever that stopped me doing anything more active than reading, drawing, writing or listening to music, I thanked God I didn’t have to do all those twice-weekly physical jerks that I was less than graceful at, and sometimes on equipment like the vaulting horse.
It’s no wonder, therefore, that my first outing on the ski slopes turned out to be such a disaster. I wasn’t yet twenty, which isn't late to learn Scrabble, but to start skiing? - well, it was already a bit of a problem.
As all my friends were going, I went too, convinced that it would be as easy as falling off a log. The result was disastrous. After three days of wailing, histrionics and panic when getting on the moving ski-lifts, and endless falls getting on and off the ski-tows, I finally managed, with great trepidation, to go down my first nursery slope. The only difference was that while everyone else got down in two minutes, it took me nearly forty. It was only when I got to the bottom and wondered why my feet were so cold, that I realised I had forgotten to fasten my boots. Would you believe it!
The moral of this sad story is that I quickly became an ardent fan of… après-ski. Those comfortable old boots made me feel like Neil Armstrong setting foot on the moon for the first time. I went for long walks in them, book and notepad in hand for scribbling notes, whilst quaffing a hot chocolate in the café to while away the time…
When I came home, I publicly declared that no-one would ever see me wearing skis again. However, as the years went by, I began to long for the mountain and the snow. This longing began to niggle away at me and I ended up going back again and again, until I got the hang of it.
Today, I’m a terrible skier, but at least I have fun. After all, anything that truly challenges you, lends spice to life.
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Bio
I am an Honours Graduate in French and Spanish from a British Russell Group university. I also hold the Institute of Linguists' Diploma in Translation (IoLET PT>EN).
As part of my Degree Course, I studied French at the University of Caen Normandy and spent one year as a Language Assistant at Martínez Montañés High School in Seville, Spain.
A veteran translator with over 20 years' translation experience in the following specialisms:
Advertising, Business, Fashion, Gastronomy, Marketing and Tourism.
I also offer transcreation, copywriting and proofreading services in these and other fields.
I am an approved translator for non-profit organisation Translators without Borders and proud winner of the 2nd ProZ.com Translation Contest, Spanish into English!
I have wide-ranging experience in business that includes working at director-level for a software company and several years as in-house translator for the Scotch Whisky Company, James Buchanan & Co. Ltd., (now part of Diageo).
I am widely travelled in Europe, North America, Latin America, Australia, Thailand, Burma and India. I worked as a freelance translator during my time in New York and have given private tuition to both adults and children.
Member since Jan '07
Marian Vieyra 
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