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Sample translations submitted: 1
English to Portuguese: The Festival - H.P Lovecraft General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English I was far from home, and the spell of the eastern sea was upon me. In the twilight I heard it pounding on the rocks, and I knew it lay just over the hill where the twisting willows writhed against the clearing sky and the first stars of evening. And because my fathers had called me to the old town beyond, I pushed on through the shallow, new-fallen snow along the road that soared lonely up to where Aldebaran twinkled among the trees; on toward the very ancient town I had never seen but often dreamed of.
It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind. It was the Yuletide, and I had come at last to the ancient sea town where my people had dwelt and kept festival in the elder time when festival was forbidden; where also they had commanded their sons to keep festival once every century, that the memory of primal secrets might not be forgotten. Mine were an old people, and were old even when this land was settled three hundred years before. And they were strange, because they had come as dark furtive folk from opiate southern gardens of orchids, and spoken another tongue before they learnt the tongue of the blue-eyed fishers. And now they were scattered, and shared only the rituals of mysteries that none living could understand. I was the only one who came back that night to the old fishing town as legend bade, for only the poor and the lonely remember.
Then beyond the hill’s crest I saw Kingsport outspread frostily in the gloaming; snowy Kingsport with its ancient vanes and steeples, ridgepoles and chimney-pots, wharves and small bridges, willow-trees and graveyards; endless labyrinths of steep, narrow, crooked streets, and dizzy church-crowned central peak that time durst not touch; ceaseless mazes of colonial houses piled and scattered at all angles and levels like a child’s disordered blocks; antiquity hovering on grey wings over winter-whitened gables and gambrel roofs; fanlights and small-paned windows one by one gleaming out in the cold dusk to join Orion and the archaic stars. And against the rotting wharves the sea pounded; the secretive, immemorial sea out of which the people had come in the elder time.
Translation - Portuguese Eu estava longe de casa, e a magia do Mar Oriental pairava sobre mim. Ao crepúsculo, eu o ouvi batendo nas rochas, e eu sabia que ele estava logo após a colina onde os salgueiros se contorciam contra o céu límpido e as primeiras estrelas da tarde. E porque meus pais tinham me chamado para a velha cidade à frente, eu continuei através da fina camada de neve recém caída sobre a estrada que subia sozinha para onde Aldebarã brilhava entre as arvores; na direção da cidade muito antiga que eu nunca tinha visto, mas que sonhava sobre frequentemente.
Era o Yuletide, que os homens chamam de natal mesmo sabendo em seus corações que é mais velho que Belém e Babilônia, mais velho que Memphis e a humanidade. Era o Yuletide, e eu tinha chegado enfim à antiga cidade costal onde o meu povo morou e festejou no tempo onde o festival era proibido; onde eles também comandaram seus filhos a manter o festival uma vez a cada século, para que a memoria dos segredos primordiais não sejam esquecidos. Velho era meu povo, e velho eram desde antes de se acomodarem nesta terra a mais de trezentos anos. E eles eram estranhos, porque haviam chegado como um povo furtivo dos ópios jardins de orquídeas do sul, e falavam outra língua antes de aprender a língua dos pescadores de olhos azuis. E agora eles estavam espalhados, e compartilhavam apenas os rituais misteriosos que nenhum vivo poderia entender. Eu era o único que voltou naquela noite à velha cidade pesqueira como a lenda ordenou, pois apenas os pobres e os solitários se lembram.
Do topo da colina eu vi Kingsport, estendido sobre o gélido mar; nevado Kingsport, com suas torres elevadas, cumeeiras e chaminés, cais e pequenas pontes, salgueiros e cemitérios; labirintos sem fim de ruas íngremes, estreitas e tortas, e o pico central coroado pela igreja que o tempo não ousa tocar; labirintos de casas coloniais empilhadas e espalhadas em todos os ângulos e níveis como uma pilha de blocos de uma criança; antiguidade pairando em asas cinzas sobre as esbranquiçadas empenas e telhados; pequenas janelas uma por uma brilhando no frio crepúsculo para se juntar a Orion e as estrelas arcaicas. E contra o cais apodrecido o mar batia; o secreto e imemorial mar de onde veio o povo no tempo antigo.
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Years of experience: 4. Registered at ProZ.com: Jun 2020.
Adobe Photoshop, Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Office Pro, Microsoft Word, Powerpoint
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Bio
I am a student and native Brazilian, fluent in English. I read and write in two languages on a daily basis. As a young adult, I am familiar with slang from both languages, formal and informal writing.
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