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Sample translations submitted: 3
English to Spanish: Cultures of Peace
Source text - English After decades of declining youth engagement in civic and social issues, technology is presenting a potential solution. Takingitglobal, Youtube, MySpace, Facebook, Ning and other sites have begun to connect youth to elections, global issues, and causes. Most importantly the voluntary sector around the world is using the Internet to inform and involve young people to much success and has changed the way that adults view the Internet and the power of inspired youth.
In 2001, IFOR initiated the UN Decade for a Culture of Peace and Non-violence for the Children of the World. These efforts culminated with an appeal by several Nobel Peace Prize laureates. With the Decade’s end soon approaching and 2009 being the UN Year for Reconciliation, a couple of IFOR Austria volunteers decided to embark on creating a “cool” active citizenship-based new media project. Our goal is to creatively raise public awareness concerning conflict resolution and peace-related issues between young people from various cultures. With English being a major language in international communication the ability to communicate effectively is highly beneficial for young people interested in increasing their opportunities in their local and the global workforce.
Translation - Spanish Tras décadas de reducción de la participación de jóvenes en temas sociales y civiles, la tecnología representa una solución. Takingitglobal, Youtube, MySpace, Facebook, Ning, y otros sitios Web han empezado a implicar a los jóvenes en elecciones, temas globales y otras causas. Lo más importante es que el sector voluntario utiliza internet para informar e involucrar a los jóvenes con mucho éxito y ha cambiado la manera en que los adultos ven internet y el poder de los jóvenes.
En 2001, IFOR inició la Década de la ONU para una Cultura de Paz sin Violencia para los Niños del Mundo. Estos esfuerzos culminaron con una súplica realizada por varios premios Nobel de la Paz. Teniendo en cuenta que el fin de la presente década se acerca y 2009 es el año de reconciliación de la ONU, unos voluntarios de IFOR Austria se decidieron de embarcarse en la creación de un proyecto “cool” basado en las nuevas formas de comunicación de ciudadanos. Nuestro objetivo es mejorar de forma creativa la conciencia pública sobre la resolución de conflictos y temas relacionados con la paz entre las personas jóvenes de varias culturas. Dado que el inglés es un idioma de gran relevancia en la comunidad internacional, la capacidad para comunicarse eficazmente es muy beneficiosa para los jóvenes interesados en aumentar sus oportunidades como trabajadores locales y globales.
German to English: Wie wir gelebt haben
Source text - German Ich entsinne mich einer Gedenkveranstaltung im Wiener Tempel.
Zum ersten Mal wurde an die Ermordeten nicht durch große
Reden erinnert. Nicht mit Chorgesang und nicht in einem herkömmlichen
Ritual. Stattdessen sollten Einzelne vortreten. Wer
wollte, konnte einen Zettel hervorziehen und die Namen jener
Familienmitglieder vorlesen, die nicht überlebt hatten. Die meisten
wussten nicht, wie ein solches Programm ablaufen sollte.
Noch war unklar, ob eine reine Aufzählung, das ungelenke Ablesen
von Listen, nicht unweigerlich ins Leere gehen müsste.
Wir hörten Alte, Männer und Frauen, die von ihren Nächsten
sprachen. Manche traten vor, um nur die Namen aufzusagen, und
wäre da nicht ein Beben in der Stimme, nicht ein Zittern einer
Hand, eines Fingers oder einer Lippe gewesen, hätte kaum einer
ahnen mögen, wovon hier die Rede war. Sie klangen beinah, als
rezitierten sie das Telefonbuch, wobei ihre scheinbare Kühle, ihre
Gefasstheit, unsere Betretenheit nur verstärkte, weil der Kontrast
zwischen Form und Inhalt klarer ans Licht kam. Andere wieder
stockten, brachen ab, um dann zu erzählen, wie die angerufene
Person, wie der Anverwandte ermordet worden war. Einige lasen
Namen von einem Blatt ab, um dann – überwaÅNltigt von den Reminiszenzen
– von jenen zu berichten, die sie niederzuschreiben
vergessen hatten. Wir hörten auch Jüngere, die in Vertretung für
ihre Eltern aufstanden und angaben, wer von den Vorfahren wo
und wie vernichtet worden war.
Diese Prozedur der Trauer nahm mich, ja, den ganzen Raum gefangen.
Das Deklamieren der Namen, die Anrufung der Toten,
wurde zu einer Andacht, zu einem Beten ganz eigener Art. Ich
meine Menschen gesehen zu haben, die sich nicht meldeten, denen
gleichwohl die Tränen hochschossen. Ältere, die bei jedem
Mal nickten, als wollten sie nur, was andere sagten, bestätigen. Sie
schwiegen, doch es war, als wären die Wörter in ihnen aufgestaut,
als wären sie verstummt, da sie fürchteten, beim ersten Satz würde
mehr an Schmerz losbrechen als zu ertragen wäre.
Meine Mutter hatte mir, da sie auf Reisen war, ebenfalls einen
Zettel anvertraut. Ich könne als ihr Sohn ruhig vortreten, um von
unseren Toten zu künden. Ich schaffte es indes nicht, sondern
blieb sitzen. Das Papier in der Tasche. Vielleicht aus Angst, den
Eindruck zu hinterlassen, mit ihrem Leid prahlen zu wollen.
Aber an diesem Abend sah ich jene, denen ich seit meiner Kindheit
immer wieder begegnet war, die mir bei Festtagen und Feiern,
bei Diskussionen und Konzerten vertraut geworden waren, nicht
wenige davon Eltern und Großeltern meiner Jugendfreunde, anders.
Ich lernte sie neu kennen, erkannte miteins in ihnen alle
wieder, die überlebt hatten, aber auch jene, die getötet worden
waren.
Translation - English I recall a memorial service at the Vienna Temple. It was the first time that those who had been murdered were not commemorated with a long speech. Not with choral singing and not with a traditional ritual. Instead, individuals stepped forward. Anyone who wanted to could draw a piece of paper and read out the names of all the family members who had not survived. Most did not know how such a program should proceed. It was still unclear whether or not a pure recital, if awkwardly reading lists would inevitably lead to emptiness. We heard old men and women who spoke about those closest to them. Some came forward, only wanting to recite the names, and were it not for the quiver in their voice, a shiver in their hand, their finger, or their lip, no one would have wagered a guess as to what was being discussed. They all but sounded as if they were reading from a phone book; in so doing, their coolness, their composure intensified our embarrassment, because the contrast between form and content came more clearly into focus. Others stumbled, broke off, only to then recount how the person he called out to, how his relation was murdered. Some read names from a sheet, and then – overwhelmed by the reminiscences – began to talk about those whose names they had forgotten to write down. We also heard from younger people, who stood up to represent their parents and declared where and which of their ancestors were killed.
The procedure of sorrow took hold of me, took hold of the entire room. The declamation of the names, the invocation of the dead, became a meditation, a prayer in its own right. I saw people who did not come forward, whose eyes must have been swelling with tears. Older people who nodded their heads each time as if they only wanted to confirm what others were saying. They remained quiet, yet it was as the words had been dammed up inside them, as if they had been silenced because they feared the first sentence they uttered would release more pain than they could bear.
My mother, who was traveling at the time, had entrusted me with a piece of paper as well. I could calmly step forward as her son and announce our dead. However, I was not able to do it and remained seated. The paper in my pocket. Perhaps for fear of giving the impression that I wanted to brag about their suffering. But that evening I saw everyone differently, all of those who I had encountered since I was a child, who had become familiar to me at the festivals and parties, the discussions and concerts, not least of all the parents and grandparents of my friends. I was reintroduced to them, recognized something in everyone one of them who had survived, but also in everyone that had been killed.
French to English: Ruth Beckerman DVD Collection
Source text - French D'où la puissance du dispositif inventé par Ruth Beckermann: coup de génie d'avoir su ou pressenti qu'une parole enfouie, refoulée, intacte donc, momifiée presque, allait forcément jaillir là, peut-être pour la dernière fois; idée de cinéaste de s'être interdit musique, commentaires et interventions pour renouer dans un premier temps avec le strict automatisme de la caméra, cet „oeil de vache“ (comme disait Cocteau) qui voit tout, n'oublie rien et ne s'emeut jamais, et dans un second temps avec les vertus vengeresses d'un montage discret mais implacable. Dès lors, le film en train de se faire au coeur de l'exposition, dispositif dans le dispositif, peut à son tour devenir surface de projection: à la fois confessionnal et cabinet des horreurs, caisson insonorisé et chambre d'écho, salle d'intérrogatoire pour bourreaux et silencieux procès populaire avec pièces à convictions accrochées aux murs, théâtre de la catharsis, séance analytique et anti-chambre de la psychiatrie. La caméra devient écran et l'écran miroir, palais des glaces qui renvoie ad nauseam le visage changeant et immuable de la banalité du mal.
Translation - English Herein lies the power of the setting conceived by Beckermann: a stroke of genius to have known or guessed that a hidden, suppressed – thus intact – almost mummified testimony would forcefully erupt – perhaps for the last time. The filmmaker’s idea to deny herself the use of music, commentary and intervention in order to engage first with the strict automatism of the camera - this “cow’s eye” (as Cocteau called it) which sees everything, forgets nothing, and never displays emotion - and then again with the vengeful virtues of a discrete, merciless montage. From the moment the film develops in the middle of the exhibition – an installation within an installation – it becomes a projection screen: simultaneously a confessional and a chamber of horror, a soundproof room and echo chamber, an interrogation room for executioners and silent trials of the people with evidence hanging on the wall, theater of catharsis, analytical conference and the psychiatrist’s waiting room. The chamber becomes the screen, the screen the mirror, a palace of mirrors which reflects ad nauseam the shifting and unchangeable face of the banality of evil.
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Years of experience: 19. Registered at ProZ.com: May 2008.
Born in San Francisco, CA in 1982, I grew up in Europe and the United States - in Spain, Germany, California and Hawaii. I completed my Bachelor of Arts Degree in 2005 in Linguistics and Theatre & Dance at the University of Texas, and have furthered my studies in Spain, England and Austria in a range of subjects, including history, chemistry, government, international relations, philosophy and psychology. Since 2004 I have worked as an editor, writer, translator and interpreter. I am a native speaker of English and Spanish, learned German as a child, and studied French at university.
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