translation

International Translation Day: a project I’m working on

/ Sue Burke / Leave a comment
Depiction of the siege of Numantia by Alejo Vera y Estaca, 1881.

Today, September 30, is International Translation Day. I’ve been working for a while on a translation project: a play by Miguel de Cervantes called Numancia (Numantia in English). It has never been performed in English, so you may not have heard about it, although it’s considered a masterpiece in Spain.

Along with some theater-wise partners, I’m trying to get the play staged here in Chicago.

Cervantes’ play is based on a real historical event. A city in north-central Spain called Numantia was conquered by the Roman general Scipio Aemilianus Africanus in 133 BCE. The Celtiberian city had long been a rebel stronghold, resisting successive attempts over decades. Scipio conquered it only after a long siege that reduced its inhabitants to starvation. However, the people of Numantia committed mass suicide rather than surrender and be taken as slaves, depriving him of his triumph.

This excerpt from my translation comes from the first scene of the play, in which the Numantines seek peace.

***

NUMANTINE AMBASSADOR: As a citizen of Numantia, I have been sent to you, great general, the most mighty captain of Rome ever hidden by night’s darkness or beheld in daylight, to extend a hand in friendship, sir, as a sign to end this cruel and stubborn war that has lasted for so many years and caused much harm to ourselves and to you.

Numantia pledges to obey all laws and codes of the Roman Senate as long as it will not suffer further outrages and affronts from any of Rome’s consuls and governors. Their harsh rule and excessive greed in the past placed such a great yoke on our necks that we were forced to rebel against them and their law.

Throughout this long dispute between both our sides, we have never found any general with whom we could forge an accord. However, now fate has brought our ship to this fine port, and we will lower our sails and prepare to seek whatever agreement we may reach.

Do not think we come out of fear to insist on peace, for long experience has tested the worthy power of Numantia. Your virtue and valor have caused us to declare that peace would be a greater gain than war, and that we would wish to have you, sir, as friend and lord.

This is why we have come. We await whatever you may be pleased to reply.

SCIPIO: You are late to show repentance! Your friendship would give me little satisfaction. Show your strength at arms again, because I wish to see what my weapons can do. Perhaps fate will bring us glory and you a tomb. All your insolence, for so many years, cannot be repaid by asking for peace. War will continue, its danger renewed. Troops will again be on the move.

NUMANTINE AMBASSADOR: False confidence brings upon itself all kinds of mistakes. Be careful what you do, sir, for your arrogance will be repaid by our strength at arms. By refusing peace, which we sought with good intentions, you give us just cause, and the heavens shall be the final judge over who is right. Before you set foot in Numantia, you will taste the angry might of those who wished to be your vassal and faithful friend but must be your enemy.

SCIPIO: Have you anything more to say?

NUMANTINE AMBASSADOR: No, but we have more to do, since you, sir, wish it so. You do not accept the friendship we offer, which reflects poorly on who you are. But you will see what we can do when you show us what you can do. It is one thing to negotiate for peace, and another to break through the lines of armed soldiers.

SCIPIO: You speak the truth, and I can speak of both peace and war, but I do not wish you as friends. This will never happen here. And with that, you may go.

When ‘squirrel’ means ‘strikebreaker’

/ Sue Burke / Leave a comment

The Spanish word esquirol looks like the English word “squirrel,” but that’s not what it means. The name for the animal in Spain is ardilla, which comes from an old Iberian language word. In Spanish, esquirol means “strikebreaker.”

Here’s what happened: In Catalonia, in eastern Spain, the word in the Catalan language for the animal is esquirol, which comes from the Latin sciurus, which comes from the Greek skiouros. The English word shares the same root.

Toward the end of the 19th century, in a town near Barcelona named Santa Maria de Corcó, an inn had a pet squirrel in a cage at its entrance. Eventually the town began to be called “L’Esquirol” after the Inn of the Squirrel.

In 1902, 1908, and 1917, textile workers in the nearby towns went on strike, and workers from L’Esquirol offered to work in place of the strikers. So “strikebreaker” became esquirol — a term of disrespect, like scab in English.

That’s how the Latin-based word for “squirrel” finally entered the Spanish language. But the term has no connection with the cute little animal except for that minor historical accident.

When words travel from one language to another, they don’t always arrive safely.

Squirrels themselves are concerned about their own safety. Urban squirrels seem to believe that they’re safer close to noisy streets, even though they might become roadkill, because cars scare away their predators.

Here in Chicago and many parts of the United States, the animal that symbolizes a strikebreaker is a rat, specifically a rat named Scabby. The giant inflatable rat, often used by labor unions in street protests, is protected by free speech laws.

Chicago’s actual rats are preyed on by our urban coyote population, which traveled from the countryside to our streets, and we’re glad to have them.

‘Arena Líquida / Liquid Sand’ by Jorge Valdés Díaz-Vélez, translated by Sue Burke and Christian Law-Palacín

/ Sue Burke / Leave a comment

I translated the poems in Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida with my Spanish friend Christian. One of us would draft the translation of a poem, then we would pass it back and forth, debating words, lines, and meaning — the goal of a translation is always to maintain the meaning. We didn’t quibble much. Translation is easiest when the original work is well-written.

In the opening poem, “Nadie / No One,” Ulysses returns to Ithaca to become a specter among his own memories. While there’s no way to summarize a collection of 42 poems, the theme of time occurs often. Time moves, and we move, but in different directions for different reasons, as the poem “Negro Sol / Black Sun” says:

The afternoon weighs heavily
toward its settlement. Ours
is due to a harder sun
and we have had to learn
to walk beneath its burden.

Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida is the first major bilingual collection of poems by Jorge Valdés Díaz-Vélez, one of Mexico’s most respected contemporary poets. Published this month by Shearsman Books and available from most bookstores, it gathers works by Valdés Díaz-Vélez selected from six previous collections that span more than two decades of writing.

Madrid Review Magazine says:

“In these pages, Valdés Díaz-Vélez explores time, memory, and the fragile equilibrium between movement and stillness. His poems evoke the physical and emotional geographies of the Americas while questioning belonging, transformation, and endurance. The English versions retain the clarity and meditative strength of the originals, inviting readers to cross the line between two languages and two sensibilities. To read Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida is to encounter poetry that is precise, reflective, and alert to the unseen rhythms of contemporary life. It is a landmark publication for readers of bilingual and Latin American literature.”

Why I don’t use AI

/ Sue Burke / 6 Comments
Clanker

I don’t use AI because I’m lazy.

My job as a writer and translator is to produce excellence. Let me use translation as an example of how AI creates extra work because it’s easy to explain, and I really am lazy.

You may know that an AI can produce a translation that might be passably correct, although it will sound “off” in certain ways. I could use that as a first draft and fix it, right?

Sure. But it’s faster and easier to do it right the first time. If I fix an AI first draft, I have to go over every single word just as if I were translating it on my own, sometimes reviewing it several times, to drag it into excellence. Fixing AI slop is like flying from Chicago to New York and changing planes in Miami. I prefer a direct flight. I also prefer airplane pilots who have not ingested hallucinogens.

I’ve been writing professionally for more than a half century, and I’ve learned how to do a lot of things because I’ve done them uncounted times, but I still learn something new every single time I write anything. Using an AI would be like sending someone to the gym for me. I wouldn’t get stronger. Although I am lazy, I will work hard at writing because that’s how I pay the rent — and because I enjoy writing so much that I want to excel.

Striving for excellence is satisfying. Look at the faces of sweaty athletes on the field during a game. They’re having the time of their lives.

***

Rant over. If you want further rants, here are some curated links:

AI Killed My Job: Translators – by Brian Merchant

The Value of Human Translation – American Translators Association

Best Translation Apps: A Translator Puts Four to the Test – American Translators Association

Humans are being hired to make AI slop look less sloppy – NBC News

As AI Gets Smarter, It Acts More Evil – by Ted Gioia

Time to Play … !! SPOT THE BOT !! – Writer Unboxed

AI Spam – The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction

Criticism in the Age of AI – by Lincoln Michel

Artificial Intelligence and Ethics – Delancyplace

Word of the week: Clanker – by Nancy Friedman – Fritinancy

The Internet Is Turning You Into Someone You’d Hate IRL – WebMD

Could AI Data Centers Drain Lake Michigan? – The Block Club Chicago Podcast

“En Paz” — two translations

/ Sue Burke / 2 Comments

Because “En Paz” is my husband’s favorite poem, I read it at a recent open mic here in Chicago, along with my two translations. The poem is by Amado Nervo, a Mexican poet, and it’s one of his most beloved poems, published in 1916.

My first translation aimed at keeping the meter and rhyme of the original poem. Then I thought it might be a bit sing-song, and I had to force a few meanings to make it rhyme, so I made a second translation that hewed close to the original. At the reading, people had mixed opinions about which one they preferred. How about you?

En paz

Muy cerca de mi ocaso, yo te bendigo, vida,
porque nunca me diste ni esperanza fallida,
ni trabajos injustos, ni pena inmerecida;
 
porque veo al final de mi rudo camino
que yo fui el arquitecto de mi propio destino;
 
que si extraje la miel o la hiel de las cosas,
fue porque en ellas puse hiel o mieles sabrosas:
cuando planté rosales, coseché siempre rosas.
 
…Cierto, a mis lozanías va a seguir el invierno:
¡mas tú no me dijiste que mayo fuese eterno!
 
Hallé sin duda largas las noches de mis penas;
mas no me prometiste tú sólo noches buenas;
y en cambio tuve algunas santamente serenas...
 
Amé, fui amado, el sol acarició mi faz.
¡Vida, nada me debes! ¡Vida, estamos en paz!


At Peace

So close now to my sunset, life, I bless you,
you never gave me hopes that were untrue,
nor unjust labor, nor suffering undue;
 
at the end of my rough road I see
I was architect of my destiny;
 
Wherever I put ice in things, they froze,
when I wanted honey, its sweets I chose:
my rosebushes always grew me a rose.
 
…True, winter will follow my endeavor:
but you never said springtime was forever!
 
Indeed, I spent some long nights lost in woe;
but you never pledged just comfort to bestow;
and yet some nights I thrilled beneath moonglow…
 
I loved, was loved, in sunshine found release.
Life, you owe me nothing. Life, we are at peace!


At Peace

Very close to my sunset, I bless you, life,
because you never gave me false hope,
nor unjust troubles, nor undeserved blame;

because I see at the end of my hard path
that I was architect of my own destiny;

that if I took honey or ice from things,
it was because I put ice or delicious honey in them:
when I planted rose bushes, I always harvested roses.

…True, my youth will be followed by winter:
but you never told me May would last eternal!

I encountered of course some long nights of sorrows;
but you never promised me only good nights;
and on the other hand, I had some sacredly serene…

I loved, was loved, and the sun caressed my face.
Life, you owe me nothing! Life, we are at peace!