17. února 2014

Malování slovy



Dobrý popis dokáže představit scénu a jednající postavy tak věrně, jako bychom je viděli před sebou.
Vizualizace je také dobrým pomocníkem překladatele!


Agatha Christie
Murder in Mesopotamia

Chapter 5
Tell Yarimjah
I don’t mind admitting that my first impression on seeing Mrs Leidner was one of downright surprise. One gets into the way of imagining a person when one hears them talked about. I’d got it firmly into my head that Mrs Leidner was a dark, discontented kind of woman. The nervy kind, all on edge. And then, too, I’d expected her to be - well, to put it frankly - a bit vulgar.
She wasn’t a bit like what I’d imagined her! To begin with, she was very fair. She wasn’t a Swede, like her husband, but she might have been as far as looks went. She had that blonde Scandinavian fairness that you don’t very often see. She wasn’t a young woman. Midway between thirty and forty, I should say. Her face was rather haggard, and there was some grey hair mingled with the fairness. Her eyes, though, were lovely. They were the only eyes I’ve ever come across that you might truly describe as violet. They were very large, and there were faint shadows underneath them. She was very thin and fragile-looking, and if I say that she had an air of intense weariness and was at the same time very much alive, it sounds like nonsense - but that’s the feeling I got. I felt, too, that she was a lady through and through. And that means something - even nowadays.
She put out her hand and smiled. Her voice was low and soft with an American drawl in it.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come, nurse. Will you have some tea? Or would you like to go to your room first?’
I said I’d have tea, and she introduced me to the people sitting round the table.








10. února 2014

Inferno

Dan Brown
Inferno

‘Seek and ye shall find.’

With these words echoing in his head, eminent Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon awakes in a hospital bed with no recollection of where he is or how he got there. Nor can he explain the origin of the macabre object that is found hidden in his belongings.
A threat to his life will propel him and a young doctor, Sienna Brooks, into a breakneck chase across the city of Florence. Only Langdon’s knowledge of hidden passageways and ancient secrets that lie behind its historic facade can save them from the clutches of their unknown pursuers.
With only a few lines from Dante’s dark and epic masterpiece, The Inferno, to guide them, they must decipher a sequence of codes buried deep within some of the most celebrated artefacts of the Renaissance – sculptures, paintings, buildings – to find the answers to a puzzle which may, or may not, help them save the world from a terrifying threat…

Set against an extraordinary landscape inspired by one of history’s most ominous literary classics, Inferno is Dan Brown’s most compelling and thought-provoking novel yet, a breathless race-against time thriller that will grab you from page one and not let you go until you close the book.

Přeložte text a vložte svůj překlad do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

Překladatelské tipy:
1. Nikomu nevěř, ani sobě. Vše ověřuj a vyhledávej.
2. Mysli česky, ne anglicky. Čti kvalitní české knihy.
3. Bezchybná gramatika je základ, nikoli nadstavba.
4. Automatické překladače přidělávají práci.
5. Odpočívej. Mozek často najde řešení sám, třeba ve spánku.
6. Vrať se ke svému textu s odstupem několika dní a edituj ho bez velké opory originálu.
Problematické oblasti při překladu z angličtiny do češtiny:
- determinanty
- slovosled
- přechodníky
- idiomy 
- reálie





2. prosince 2013

Sci-fi: věda a fikce

Tři králové science-fiction: Clarke, Asimov, Brabury

1. Zjistěte si něco více o A. C. Clarkovi  a jeho díle.

viz např.
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/a/arthur_c_clarke.html
http://www.clarkefoundation.org/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qLdeEjdbWE
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_C._Clarke%27s_Mysterious_World
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Fall_of_Moondust
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xdr6zXXrTbg


2. Přeložte následující text (úryvek z knihy Měsíční prach). Pečlivě ověřujte technické termíny.

A.C.Clarke - Fall of Moondust

When a man falls on the Moon, he usually has time to do something about it, for his nerves and muscles are designed to deal with a sixfold greater gravity. Yet when Chief Engineer Lawrence toppled off the ski, the distance was so short that he had no time to react. Almost at once, he hit the dust--and was engulfed in darkness.
He could see absolutely nothing, except for a very faint fluorescence from the illuminated instrument panel inside his suit. With extreme caution, he began to feel around in the softly resisting, half-fluid substance in which he was floundering, seeking some solid object for support. There was nothing; he could not even guess which direction was up.
A mind-sapping despair, which seemed to drain his body of all its strength, almost overwhelmed him. His heart was thumping with that erratic beat that heralds the approach of panic, and the final overthrow of reason. He had seen other men be- come screaming, struggling animals, and knew that he was moving swiftly to join them.
There was just enough left of his rational mind to remember that only a few minutes ago he had saved Lawson from this same fate, but he was not in a position to appreciate the irony. He had to concentrate all his remaining strength of will on regaining control of himself, and checking the thumping in his chest that seemed about to tear him to pieces.
And then, loud and clear in his helmet speaker, came a sound so utterly unexpected that the waves of panic ceased to batter against the island of his soul. It was Tom Lawson--laughing.
The laughter was brief, and it was followed by an apology.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawrence--I couldn't help it. You look so funny there, waving your legs in the sky."
The Chief Engineer froze in his suit. His fear vanished instantly, to be replaced by anger. He was furious with Lawson, but much more furious with himself.
Of course he had been in no danger; in his inflated suit, he was like a balloon floating upon water, and equally incapable of sinking. Now that he knew what had happened, he could sort matters out by himself. He kicked purposefully with his legs, paddled with his hands, and rolled round his center of gravity--and vision returned as the dust streamed off his helmet. He had sunk, at the most, ten centimeters, and the ski had been within reach all the time. It was a remarkable achievement to have missed it completely while he was flailing around like a stranded octopus.

With as much dignity as he could muster, he grabbed the ski and pulled himself aboard. He did not trust himself to speak, for he was still breathless from his unnecessary exertions, and his voice might betray his recent panic. And he was still angry; he would not have made such a fool of himself in the days when he was working constantly out on the lunar surface. Now he was out of touch. Why, the last time he had worn a suit had been for his annual proficiency check, and then he had never even stepped outside the air lock.

25. listopadu 2013

Nesmrtelný Shakespeare

Najděte na prekladani.capsa.cz soubor Shakespeare_sonet66_13prekladu.
1. V pohodě a klidu si všechny přečtěte a přemýšlejte, který z překladů je vám nejsympatičtější a proč. Vložte svůj názor do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

Audio anglicky
Audio Hilský

2. Proč vlastně existuje tolik českých podob jednoho anglického textu?

18. listopadu 2013

Malujeme obraz


Každý popis je jen chudým odrazem krásy, kterou vnímáme zrakem. Jen ti nejlepší spisovatelé dokážou i slovy kouzlit tak, že nám krajina ožívá před očima.


http://www.sparkyourself.org/blog/grapes-of-wrath-writing-exercise
http://anglistika.webnode.cz/products/steinbeck-john-the-grapes-of-wrath-/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northwestern_Oklahoma
http://www.library.cornell.edu/Reps/DOCS/landrush.htm



John Steinbeck – The Grapes of Wrath (1939)

TO THE RED COUNTRY and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover. In the last part of May the sky grew pale and the clouds that had hung in high puffs for so long in the spring were dissipated. The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each green bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try any more. The weeds grew darker green to protect themselves, and they did not spread any more. The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the gray country.
In the water-cut gullies the earth dusted down in dry little streams. Gophers and ant lions started small avalanches. And as the sharp sun struck day after day, the leaves of the young corn became less stiff and erect; they bent in a curve at first, and then, as the central ribs of strength grew weak, each leaf tilted downward. Then it was June, and the sun shone more fiercely. The brown lines on the corn leaves widened and moved in on the central ribs. The weeds frayed and edged back toward their roots. The air was thin and the sky more pale; and every day the earth paled.
In the roads where the teams moved, where the wheels milled the ground and the hooves of the horses beat the ground, the dirt crust broke and the dust formed. Every moving thing lifted the dust into the air: a walking man lifted a thin layer as high as his waist, and a wagon lifted the dust as high as the fence tops, and an automobile boiled a cloud behind it. The dust was long in settling back again.
When June was half gone, the big clouds moved up out of Texas and the Gulf, high heavy clouds, rainheads. The men in the fields looked up at the clouds and sniffed at them and held wet fingers up to sense the wind. And the horses were nervous while the clouds were up. The rainheads dropped a little spattering and hurried on to some other country. Behind them the sky was pale again and the sun flared. In the dust there were drop craters where the rain had fallen, and there were clean splashes on the corn, and that was all.
A gentle wind followed the rain clouds, driving them on northward, a wind that softly clashed the drying corn. A day went by and the wind increased, steady, unbroken by gusts. The dust from the roads fluffed up and spread out and fell on the weeds beside the fields, and fell into the fields a little way. Now the wind grew strong and hard and it worked at the rain crust in the corn fields. Little by little the sky was darkened by the mixing dust, and the wind felt over the earth, loosened the dust, and carried it away. The wind grew stronger. The rain crust broke and the dust lifted up out of the fields and drove gray plumes into the air like sluggish smoke. The corn threshed the wind and made a dry, rushing sound. The finest dust did not settle back to earth now, but disappeared into the darkening sky.


11. listopadu 2013

Cesta je prach, a štěrk, a udusaná hlína...

Překládání písňových textů je možná snazší, než se zprvu může zdát. Probuďte svou fantazii! :)


Vyberte si jednu z následujících písní a pokuste se napsat k melodii český text. Tentokrát nám nejde o překlad! Obsah může být jakýkoli, jediným kritériem je zpívatelnost hotového textu.


Houston
Seasons in the sun
Peatbog soldiers

Rezervní možnost: Waltzing Mathilda

--------------------------------------------

Lee  Hazelwood: HOUSTON
Pavel Bobek, český text Jiří Grossmann
Well it's lonesome in this big town everybody puts me down
I'm a face without a name just a walkin' in the rain
I'm going back to Houston Houston Houston

I got holes in both of my shoes and I'm a walkin' case of the blues
I saw a dollar yesterday but the wind blew it away
I'm going back to Houston Houston Houston

I haven't eaten in about a week and I'm so hugry when I walk I squeak
Nobody calls me friend it's sad the shape I'm in
I'm going back to Houston Houston Houston

I got a girl waitin' there for me where at least she said she'd be
I got a home and a big warm bed and a feather pillow for my head
I'm going back to Houston Houston Houston

I take a bus or take an old freight train I come ride or walk it's all the same
I'm goin' back where they know my face and I'm never gonna leave that place
I'm going back to Houston Houston Houston

Well it's lonesome in this big town everybody puts me down
I'm a face without a name yeah I'm a walkin' in the rain
Jacques Brel – Le Moribond
Terry Jacks – Seasons in the sun
Karel Gott – Léta prázdnin (Zdeněk Borovec)


Adieu l´Émile je t´aimais bien
Adieu l´Émile je t´aimais bien, tu sais
On a chanté les mêmes vins
On a chanté les mêmes filles
On a chanté les mêmes chagrins
Adieu l´Émile je vais mourir
C´est dur de mourir au printemps, tu sais
Mais j´pars aux fleurs la paix dans l´âme
Car vu qu´t´es bon comme du pain blanc
Je sais qu´tu prendras soin d´ma femme
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
J´veux qu´on s´amuse comme des fous
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
Quand c´est qu´on m´mettra dans l´trou

Adieu Curé je t´aimais bien
Adieu Curé je t´aimais bien, tu sais
On n´était pas du même bord
On n´était pas du même chemin
Mais on cherchait le même port
Adieu Curé je vais mourir
C´est dur de mourir au printemps, tu sais
Mais j´pars aux fleurs la paix dans l´âme
Car vu que t´étais son confident
Je sais qu´tu prendras soin d´ma femme
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
J´veux qu´on s´amuse comme des fous
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
Quand c´est qu´on m´mettra dans l´trou

Adieu l´Antoine je t´aimais pas bien
Adieu l´Antoine je t´aimais pas bien, tu sais
J´en crève de crever aujourd´hui
Alors que toi tu es bien vivant
Et même plus solide que l´ennui
Adieu l´Antoine je vais mourir
C´est dur de mourir au printemps, tu sais
Mais j´pars aux fleurs la paix dans l´âme
Car vu que tu étais son amant
Je sais qu´tu prendras soin d´ma femme
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
J´veux qu´on s´amuse comme des fous
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
Quand c´est qu´on m´mettra dans l´trou

Adieu ma femme je t´aimais bien
Adieu ma femme je t´aimais bien, tu sais
Mais je prends l´train pour le bon Dieu
Je prends le train qui est avant l´tien
Mais on prend tous le train qu´on peut
Adieu ma femme, je vais mourir
C´est dur de mourir au printemps, tu sais
Mais j´pars aux fleurs les yeux fermés, ma femme
Car vu qu´j´les ai fermés souvent
Je sais qu´tu prendras soin d´mon âme
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
J´veux qu´on s´amuse comme des fous
J´veux qu´on rie
J´veux qu´on danse
Quand c´est qu´on m´mettra dans l´trou

Terry Jacks
Goodbye to you my trusted friend
We've known each other since we
Were nine or ten
Together we've climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and abc's
Skinned our hearts and
Skinned our knees

Goodbye my friend it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing
In the sky
Now that spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I'll be there

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time

Goodbye papa please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along

Goodbye papa it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I'll be there

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the songs like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like
The seasons have all gone

Goodbye Michelle my little one
You gave me love and helped
Me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on
The ground

Goodbye Michelle it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in
The sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone

We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone



Karel Gott - Léta prázdnin

Buď sbohem, brácho z dětských let,
byl's lepší v počtech a já zas lépe čet',
to všechno dávno pokryl sníh,
pil jsem z dlaní tvých, ty z mých,
jeden pramen, jeden smích.

Tak sbohem brácho, musím jít,
vždyť malí můžeme jen chvíli být
a pak už končí léta her,
končí všem a to je fér,
tak to chápej, tak to ber.

Svět byl fajn, svět byl náš,
léta prázdnin, slunce, pláž,
pryč je smích školních tříd,
teď už musím něčím být.

Buď sbohem táto, ty ses dřel,
abych já bezstarostný spánek měl
a byl to se mnou leckdy kříž,
já jsem do větru byl spíš,
rodičům jen na obtíž.

Tak sbohem táto, musím jít,
vždyť malí můžeme jen chvíli být
a pak už dětství je to tam,
už se musím starat sám,
kudy v nouzi, kudy kam.

Svět byl fajn, svět byl náš,
léta prázdnin, slunce, pláž,
pryč je smích školních tříd,
teď už musím něčím být.

Buď sbohem lásko, tak se měj,
měl jsem tě ze všech děvčat nejraděj
a teď odcházím jak hráč,
nechám tě tu ronit pláč,
no aspoň vidíš, co jsem zač.

Tak sbohem lásko, musím jít,
vždyť malí můžeme jen chvíli být
a zrání má svůj rub a líc,
nebuď smutná, dej si říct,
vždyť kluků k světu, těch je víc.


Peat Bogs Soldiers

Far and wide as the eye can wander,
Heath and bog are everywhere,
Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
Oaks are standing, gaunt and bare.

[Chorus:]
We are the peat bog soldiers.
We're marching with our spades,
To the bog.

Up and down the guards are pacing,
No one, no one can go through.
Flight would mean a sure death facing,
Guns and barbed wire greet our view.

But for us there is no complaining,
Winter will in time be past.
One day we shall cry rejoicing,
"Homeland dear, you're mine at last!"

[Final Chorus:]
Then will the peat bog soldiers,
March no more with spades,
To the bog.






25. října 2013

Dialog

Překládat rozhovor mezi postavami je celkem snadné - pokud víte, kdo postavy jsou, jak uvažují, jak se vyjadřují. Každý člověk má svůj osobitý styl, a totéž čekáme i od literární postavy.
Proto máte tentokrát k dispozici text, jehož hrdiny velmi pravděpodobně dobře znáte. Pokuste se přeložit tučně vyznačenou část.
Tip: Přečtěte si hotový překlad nahlas, nebo požádejte někoho o spolupráci a celou scénu si přehrajte jako na divadle. Pokud se vám některé repliky špatně pamatují a špatně vyslovují, je s překladem pravděpodobně něco v nepořádku.

Stylové roviny v překladu

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS
When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why
he felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled
over him. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of his own four-poster, intending
to talk to Ron, to force Ron to believe him - only to find that Ron's bed was empty;
he had obviously gone down to breakfast.
Harry dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The
moment he appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into
applause again. The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest
of the Gryffindors, all treating him like some sort of hero, was not inviting; it was
that, however, or stay here and allow himself to be cornered by the Creevey
brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to him to join them. He walked
resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found
himself face-to-face with Hermione.
"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin.
"I brought you this. . . . Want to go for a walk?"
"Good idea," said Harry gratefully.
They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the
Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the
Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly
morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione
exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before.
To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story without question.
"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he'd finished
telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face
when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in?
Because Moody's right, Harry... I don't think any student could have done it. . .
they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"
"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.
Hermione hesitated.
"Erm. . . yes. . . he was at breakfast," she said.
"Does he still think I entered myself?"
"Well. . . no, I don't think so . . . not really," said Hermione awkwardly.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"
"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"
"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of
himself in front of the whole school, does he?"
"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you
know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his
mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it.. . but - well - you know, Ron's got
all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and
you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you,
and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time
too many. . .
"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he
wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it.... People gawping at my forehead
everywhere I go. . ."
"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the
only way to sort this out."
"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so
loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe
I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"
"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked
extremely anxious. "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do,
don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"
"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -"
"Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep
him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. . . . It's almost as if he
expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out
with me -"
"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard,
but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because
my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him
someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament -"
"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out
anyway."
"How?"
"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This
tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't
anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . You're already in half the
books about You-Know-Who, you know.. . and Sirius would rather hear it from
you, I know he would."