Translations

This week I have been translating from Guernsey French some 17th Century writing that has recently been found on the Island.  I thought I would display some snippets of my translations for you.  The first snippet is from some 17th Century Pirate Tomes:

“”arr arr, not in those trousers!” Jim capered around on deck… as a rogue wave washed up… inside I tended to my bonsai garden and thought about les vegetables… “scurrrvy! scurrrvy!” came the cry, “arr!” came another, “arr!” and another… nobody had teeth… I tried to protect my bonsai from the inevitable crashing waves and piratical insanities… “la poubelle de la mer,” a calm and wooden shipmate noted, “dans la poubelle de la mer.”  I corrected his grammar… night fell like a scurvy monster at the west, I checked my compass… “sarnia cherie, gem of the sea!” they roared into the night…”

The next set I translated were writings about 17th Century Libraries:

“”arr arr, not in those trousers!” Jim capered around amongst the bookshelves… as an overexcited book fell to the floor… at a desk in the corner I tended to my bonsai garden and thought about the forbidden sounds… “tranquille! tranquille!” came the whisper, “arr!” came another, “arr!” and another… everybody had healthy shining wholesome-living teeth… I tried to protect my bonsai from the falling books and the insanities of enthusiastic information-gatherers… “la biblioteque de la poubelle,” a calm and elderly librarian noted, “dans la biblioteque de la poubelle.”  I corrected her grammar… night fell like the closing of a book, I checked my bookmark… “sarnia cherie, gem of the sea!” they declared over the bing-bong, before disappearing into the night (home for tea and cake)…”

And finally here is part of an intriguing account about black holes in 17th Century Guernsey:

“”000 000, 000 00 00000 00000000!” wind howled around capering Jim… as a wave of sucking-in nothingness pressure licked out into the fragile world… deep in the hole I clutched hold of my bonsai garden and tried not to be separated from it as i had been from everything I knew, as I was becoming from myself… “000 0000! 000 0000!” came the cry, “000!” came another, “000!” and another… nobody could speak or make sounds that were not empty… I tried to protect my bonsai from flying debris and black hole insanity… “la poubelle de la monde,” a calm and emaciated skeleton noted somehow, “dans la poubelle de la monde.”  I corrected his grammar… night fell but in this destructive whirlwind of eternal boredom and destruction it was always black as night, debris stars swirling around an apocalyptic sleepytime… “000000 000000, 000 00 000 000!” someone roared, somewhere off in the swirling sucky black, into the nothing…”

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