The perils of bad translation
(I really ought to have a classics-related icon for posts like this. Any suggestions from the audience?)
There's a scene in Diana Wynne Jones' novel A Tale of Time City wherein Vivian, who is an ordinary girl from WWII England, is assigned to translate a text written in the "universal symbols" of Time City. She does an entertainingly bad job of it, and gets mocked by her tutor.
I probably wasn't supposed to take that as inspiration, was I?
See, years ago, when
kurayami_hime
and I were taking Latin in high school, we were given Catullus 3 to translate, along with a vocabulary list to look up before we began. The first word on that list was passer, which, according to my dictionary, meant "sparrow" (the poem being a mock-eulogy for his girlfriend's dead bird) . . . and also "flounder."
Inspired by this, and also by the number of our classmates who had mis-translated a line of Ovid's about "small things capture the minds of young girls" as "girls like to capture small animals" (they mistook anima for animal),
kurayami_hime
and I produced the following travesty, which our Latin teacher promptly stole, posted on the board, and only gave us photocopies of several years later; the original remains in her possession.
Ahem.
And but so anyway, I read that to some people last night, and was told I should post it here for the entertainment of others. Thus I give it to you. My apologies to all the Latinists who are now bleeding from the eyeballs.
There's a scene in Diana Wynne Jones' novel A Tale of Time City wherein Vivian, who is an ordinary girl from WWII England, is assigned to translate a text written in the "universal symbols" of Time City. She does an entertainingly bad job of it, and gets mocked by her tutor.
I probably wasn't supposed to take that as inspiration, was I?
See, years ago, when

Inspired by this, and also by the number of our classmates who had mis-translated a line of Ovid's about "small things capture the minds of young girls" as "girls like to capture small animals" (they mistook anima for animal),

Wear mourning clothes, oh highest toss of the dice and greedy ones,
and how many there are of men who are endowed like Venus: my girl has killed her fish,
that fish, the crime of my girl, which loved her more than her flower buds --
for there was honey for her and the mother knew herself so well that she was a girl,
neither that one moving himself from the center, but running around how this how that,
to the sun of the house and chirping: which now plows again through Tenebricus,
where waves decline as they return there, and you are a bad apple, evil pigs of low birth,
where everyone loves war, so war to me seems like a fish.
O apple fact! O evil fish! Now you sing an opera so that my girl is crying
and swollen because there is rhubarb in her eyes.
Ahem.
And but so anyway, I read that to some people last night, and was told I should post it here for the entertainment of others. Thus I give it to you. My apologies to all the Latinists who are now bleeding from the eyeballs.
Published on November 01, 2012 16:04
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