Working languages: Spanish to English
Catalan to English
English (monolingual)
| Maureen Shaughnessy
Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires, Argentina Local time: 14:33 ART (GMT-3)
Native in: English  | |
| Freelancer | | Translation, Editing/proofreading, Project management | | Specializes in: | | Folklore | Poetry & Literature |
| Also works in: | | Nutrition | Medical: Health Care | | History | Music | | Tourism & Travel |
More Less | Sample translations submitted: 4 Spanish to English: My Friend the Arab
General field: Art/Literary
Detailed field: Poetry & Literature | Source text - Spanish
Mi amigo el árabe prefiere descomponerse de calor antes que sacarse el saco gris. En sus gestos, por más que se ocupe en disimularlo, aparece el esfuerzo que le reporta tener semejante cuerpo.
-En estas tierras, el sol es siempre atroz –comento.
-Hay lugares peores.
-¿Cuáles?
-Omán…Omán es el infierno. En ese lugar la vida se seca pero los hombres son más confiables –dice y levanta las cejas.
Cada palabra suya responde a un condicionamiento íntimo, a una autocensura que se disfraza de profesionalismo. Cree en él tanto que sus formas rozan la parodia. Lo miro cuando repasa la comisura de sus labios con la lengua; cuando aspira profundo por la nariz; cuando entrecierra los ojos, como si tuviera un sueño insoportable, para poder evaluar mejor la situación. Ahora, tose y observa con disimulo el reloj que resulta demasiado chico para su muñeca.
autor: Jorge Consiglio | Translation - English
My friend the Arab would rather suffer from heatstroke than remove his gray jacket. As much as he tries to hide it, I can see in his gestures how much effort it takes to live in a body like his.
“In these parts the sun is always atrocious,” I remark.
“Worse places exist.”
“Like where?”
“Oman…Oman is hell. It’s a place where life itself dries up, but the men are more trustworthy,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
Each word is guided by a sense of inner control, a sort of self-restraint disguised as professionalism. He is so self-assured that his manners border on parody. I watch as he wets the corner of his lips with his tongue; as he inhales deeply through his nose; as he squints his eyes—as if he were unbearably tired—to better gauge the situation. Now he coughs and sneaks a look at the watch that is too small for his wrist.
by Jorge Consiglio | Spanish to English: The Man Who Turned into a Tree for Being So Lazy
General field: Art/Literary
Detailed field: Folklore | Source text - Spanish
Dice que ha habido una vez un señor que ha sido un bien ocioso desde niño. Estaba casado con una mujer, que ha ido a trabajar, cultivando, sembrar papa --esto de los cultivos en el campo como vivimos y así comemos y así cada día ganamos la plata. Dice que al marido ha dicho anda a trabajar como el vecino también ha sido, que vaya con el que sabe ganar harta plata con el patrón que ha sido leeeejos, como de a Cañar a cuenca así caminando. se fue muy lejos. Ha dicho ese hombre que no sabia trabajar ha dicho ya ya voy a ir con pereza ya estaba por ejemplo de Cañar a azogas… o sino de Cañar al cerro culquinga. Después ese hombre ha dicho ya me canso. Vamos han dicho, vamos y con pereza ya llegando a azogas. Ya está cerquito. Dice que ese hombre se ha harrrrto se ha repentido de venir tanto caminando tanto me duelen los pies. El otro hombre que ha salido a trabajar, nada, tranquilamente caminando a la hacienda...
Cuento tradicional Cañari contado por Paiwa Acero Maynato | Translation - English
Once upon a time there was a man who was very lazy. He had been lazy his whole life. He was married to a woman who worked hard. Everyday she went out to cultivate potatoes in the fields, which was the only way they could eat and make money. One day she told the man to go work. “Go with the neighbor, he knows how to work and bring home money to his family.” The man complained and groaned but finally he sighed, “Ya, ya, alright already,” and he went with the neighbor to work in the fields. Far, far away they walked. From Cañar they walked into the mountains, toward Cuenca. When they stopped to rest the man said, “I’m tired, I don’t want to walk anymore.” “C’mon man,” said his neighbor, “We're not far from Azogues.” But the man began to regret having left his house. “My feet hurt!” he cried. The neighbor didn’t complain about anything, he walked on without protest.
Traditional Cañari tale as told by Paiwa Acero Maynato | Spanish to English: And If You See that I Don't Come Back
General field: Art/Literary
Detailed field: Poetry & Literature | Source text - Spanish
Me puse a caminar rápido por las calles cuesta arriba, adoquinadas de tal manera que más bien parecían una escalera interminable de peldaños con un centímetro de diferencia. Y empezó a llover. Y me entraron unas ganas enormes de fumar pero tenía prisa, no podía buscar un parque, un banco y unos ancianos entre los que aislarme. Llovía fuerte. Llovía romo. No podía pararme a fumar, tenía que llegar cuanto antes y encendí el cigarro en marcha, le pegué un par de caladas hasta sentir que ya estaba incandescente y justo cuando empezaba a disfrutarlo, plaf. Plaf. Una gota estalla encima del cigarro, justo en la punta. Reventó con una explosión discreta y la metralla atravesó el papel de fumar como papel de fumar. El cigarro, que no sintió nada, no tuvo tiempo, se apagó, estaba empapado. Lejos de acojonarme, tú sabes que no lo hago, tomé otro y lo encendí. Al empapado y roto lo dejé caer en la alcantarilla que corre por en medio del empedrado. Se fue flotando como un soldado de la reserva muerto mucho antes de haber pisado primera línea de combate.
Autor: Luis Nuño | Translation - English
I started walking quickly up the cobblestones streets, which seemed more like an endless staircase of one centimeter-thick stone steps. And it started to rain. And I had an overwhelming urge to smoke, but I was in a hurry. I didn’t have time to look for a park and a bench and some elderly folks, a place where I could isolate myself. It was raining hard. The raindrops stung. I couldn’t stop to smoke, I needed to get back here right away, so I lit a cigarette while I was walking. I took a few quick drags to make sure it was lit, and just when I was starting to enjoy it, drip. Drip. A raindrop exploded on the cigarette, right on the tip. It burst discreetly; the shrapnel cut through the rolling paper too easily, as if it were wet tissue paper. The cigarette (which didn’t have time to feel a thing) went out, it was soaked. Far from losing my cool⎯you know that I don’t⎯I took another one and lit it. I let the broken, soggy cigarette fall into the gutter that runs down the middle of the cobbles. It floated off like a soldier in the army reserve, dead before he even got to the front lines of combat.
by Luis Nuño | Spanish to English: Jazz Festival Book Prolouge
General field: Art/Literary
Detailed field: Music | Source text - Spanish
Desde sus orígenes el jazz ha constituido una muestra del mestizaje de culturas, tendencias musicales y estilos de vida diversos. Esta fusión entre tradiciones de origen africano y europeo, tamizadas por la historia norteamericana, se ha convertido a menudo en himno de emancipación y reivindicación de las libertades, los derechos civiles y la convivencia. La historia del jazz está ligada también en el imaginario a nombres de grandes ciudades como New Orleans, Chicago o New York, así como a metrópolis europeas permeables a la innovación creativa musical. En España, y desde mediados del siglo XX, Barcelona fue pionera en crear una escena jazzística dinámica y, en ese contexto, su Festival Internacional de Jazz desempeñó un papel protagonista que se prolonga hasta nuestros días.
La ciudad Condal es un centro de diversidad cultural y lo ha demostrado a lo largo de su historia. En mayo de 2004 y en el marco de su primer Forum Universal de las Culturas, aprobó la Agenda 21 de la Cultura. Este documento nació de la constatación de que las ciudades son un marco de elaboración cultural en constante evolución. El ámbito local constituye un espacio para la diversidad creativa, donde la perspectiva del encuentro de todo aquello que es diferente y distinto hace posible el desarrollo humano integral. Las ciudades son un auténtico crisol de experiencias compartidas y un vivero de nuevas formas de expresión artística. Con esta conciencia el Gobierno de España impulsa y defiende que “el carácter central de las políticas públicas de cultura es una exigencia de las sociedades en el mundo contemporáneo”.
| Translation - English
Since its birth, jazz has embodied a mixture of cultures, musical trends and diverse lifestyles. This fusion between the traditions of African and European origins, refined through North American history, has often become a anthem for emancipation, entitlement to liberties, civil rights and coexistence. The history of jazz is also tied to the imagery invoked by metropolises such as New Orleans, Chicago and New York, as well as European cities receptive to creative musical innovation. In Spain, starting in the mid-Twentieth century, Barcelona broke new ground by establishing a dynamic jazz scene and our International Jazz Festival has played a leading role in the scene ever since.
Throughout history, Barcelona has proven to be a center for cultural diversity. In May of 2004, hosting our first Universal Forum of Cultures, Barcelona approved the Agenda 21 for Culture. The statute upholds the concept that cities are the backdrop for cultural development in constant evolution. The local domain is a space for creative diversity, where integral human development is made possible from the fusion of everything unique and different. Cities are an authentic melting pot of shared experiences where new forms of artistic expression are born. With this awareness, the Government of Spain promotes and defends that “cultural public policies are a basic need for societies in the contemporary world”.
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More Less | | Master's degree - Universitat de Rovira i Virgili | | Years of translation experience: 7. Registered at ProZ.com: Aug 2004. | | N/A | Spanish to English (Spain: URV)
| | Mediterranean Editors & Translators | | Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, Wordfast | | CV available upon request | | Maureen Shaughnessy endorses ProZ.com's Professional Guidelines. | | About me I became a translator out of my love of words, their individual quirkiness yet impressive function as the building blocks of communication. But I also became a translator out of sheer necessity: I've lived abroad for nine years and my love affair has now doubled, as I add new Spanish words, day by day, to my native English.
When I first started translating I lived in Barcelona and worked on an exciting book project: the memoirs of Carles Fontseré, an anarchist poster artist during the Spanish Civil War. As my hopes of publication petered out I became aware of the vast struggle translators into English have: so many fascinating tales will be left out of English literature simply because they are written in other languages. Translation thus became a political act for me. The more we can read about the experience of people from other countries and cultures, the more we can understand each other across borders.
In 2008-9 I traveled through South America, during which time I translated several folktales from Ecuador to Costa Rica, often of the oral tradition, never before recorded. Some of these stories will soon be available on the Smithsonian American Indian Museum's Indigenous Geography website.
Since I moved to Argentina in 2010 I have been working to collaborate with young, emerging writers with their own style and voice. Perhaps in a bilingual format our work will gain strength. This past year I translated a short story by Luis Nuño, which will soon be published in Words Without Borders. I have also been lucky enough to translate Jorge Consiglio, including a excerpt from the novel El Bien, winner of the IV Premio Opera Prima Nuevos Narradores in 2001.
On a day-to-day basis I make my living translating and correcting academic, scientific and medical/pharmaceutical documents. |
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Profile last updated
Apr 20, 2011 |
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