Lost in Translation

I saw this film together with my son in London – and though I was well entertained I have forgotten the whole story. But the title fascinates me, because it is such a wonderful description of what can happens by translation.

And I am NOT speaking of the hilarious grotesque translations by Google or other ‘computer translation’ machines (when son was younger we gave in a long part of “Freude, schöner Götterfunken” – the machine translated it into a sort of English-muddle – funny! – then we let it be translated back by the machine to a sort of – er – German? Viking language? – hilarious!! – and then we put it into the ‘translator’ again – after that you could not identify a single word!

I am not able to read Swedish, so I let the Google translator ‘translate’ one blog for me – it is almost unreadable! (I will give you a piece of that nonsense on a rainy day - to amuse you).

That’s why I translate my own texts myself – knowing well that I stumble through your vocabulary and grammar like a fool – and no translator in his/her right mind will translate into another language than his mother tongue. I only do it here quite unprofessionally because I hope you will wipe the tears of laughter away and understand what I wanted to say – at least and hopefully better than Google would babble it for me.

But this time I want to show you something else.

Susan from’Prufrock’s Dilemma’ showed us the wonderful poems of Wislawa Szymborska – and off went Yours Truly to buy a German book of Szymborska’s poems.

When I read them, I was shocked. The melody, the poetic tenderness, even a bit of the content of Czeslaw Milosz’ great translation seemed to be gone or distorted in the German translation. Lost in translation.

I will do something now that I hope will not be misunderstood.

I translate the German version of a poem one by one – to show you how a BAD translation can destroy a poem. A bad translator even might use a correct German word for a Polish word - but a good translator must be able to be a poet himself, not a robot.

I want to be very clear about that: my translation is only there to show you how bad the official German translation is!

First Czeslaw Milosz's wonderful translation: 

(...)

In a drop of ink there are quite a few 

hunters squinting one eye, 

ready to rush down a vertical pen, 

to encicle the deer, to take aim. 

They forget that this is not life here. 

Other laws rule here, in black and white. 

An instant will last as I desire 

(...)

The German translator wrote: 

(...)

Der Tropfen Tinte hat einen ziemlichen Vorrat 

an Jägern mit Späheraugen, 

bereit, die steile Feder hinabzustürzen, 

in Anschlag zu gehen, das Reh zu stellen. 

Sie vergessen, hier gibt es kein Leben. 

Hier herrschen andre Gesetze, schwarz auf weiß. 

Hier dauert jeder Moment so lange, wie ich es will, 

(...)

  which is, one to one, translated back: 

(...)

The drop of ink has (!!, not even holds!!) a fairly stock

Of hunters with scouts’ eyes,

Ready to come rushing down the steeply pen,

To go into weapon at the ready, to catch the deer,

They forget: here is no life. (literally!!)

Here other laws rule, in black and white,

Here each moment lasts as long as I want, 

(...) 

Q.e.d. 

Where We Live

Now spring is coming! Overnight 20° C, and we can sit outside a café at the Viktoria-Luise-Platz, drink cappuccino and watch people. 

The cranes flew over our house – and I am reassured. They do that every year, in Hildesheim, in Hamburg, and now in Berlin: always directly over our house, and when I hear their strange cries early in the morning I run outside or on the balcony and try to take a picture of them – mostly a row of tiny dots on their way north.

A further indicator for spring: the gardeners at the Viktoria-Luise-Platz, which is just around the corner, plant the curved beds with pansies – no ‘love-in-the-idleness’ but a lot of hard work, because the ‘Ornamental Square’, as they were called then, is huge. 

Georg Haberland, who planned the Bavarian Quarter (where we live) in one draft, put out for tender a competition for the design of the square, which the Royal Horticultaral Director, Fritz Encke (1861 – 1931) won.

The square – rather uncommon – is an elongated hexagonal, where six small streets flow in, but by the planting you get the impression that it is oval. In the middle a big fountain, at the west side arcade-like colonnades (nowadays they put a large sandbox in the middle of it)

and on the other side the entry of the U4. This underground was hotly discussed even at its opening in 1910: it serves only four stations from Innsbrucker Platz to Nollendorf Platz – a subway only for the Rich? 

At least the square offered a compensation: different from others at that time it was not only for representation, but had many benches for recreation – and today even the lawns are well used. Yesterday at lunchtime a lot of young people lay on the grass (and in the back of my head my mother started to warn that one should never lay on grass in months with an “R” inside – not MaRch, not ApRil – earliest: May :-).

The initiation of the Viktoria Luise Platz in 1900 was a big social event and Haverland splurged several thousand electric bulbs (in the rest of Berlin they still sat in dim gaslight), and in the evening the fountain shone in splendour as “fountaine lumineuse.” Haberland wrote:

“Till this day I see old Mr. Ludwig Pietsch before my inner eye, on each knee a laughing young girl. Half an hour after midnight I ordered to shut off the lights so that the atmosphere wouldn’t become too jolly.”

But that is what I wish for us all: a very jolly spring!

'To Live Like a Crown Prince in Prussia' or: Friedrich II - a case for CPS?

Nowadays we can assume with certainty that a social worker from the Child Protective Services would stand on the steps of Castle King’s Wusterhausen, where Frederic II grew up. Accusingly she would hold up a letter in which the father, King Friedrich Wilhelm, himself had written down the daily routine for his nine year old son, and she might threaten to take away the child.
Which would have been better, anyhow.

The ‚Soldier King‘ was really delighted when at the 24^th January 1712 Friedrich was born: finally a heir to the throne, (both sons born before died as babies).

But very soon he finds out that his son was not, as the King himself had said, „a sort of human dough which can be moulded as one wants.” 

The father loves discipline, frugality, military and hunting – his artistically inclined, delicate son soon is hated by the authoritarian, choleric and iracible absolutistic despot, who tries to exorcise Friedrich’s „effeminate conduct“ by all means. Sleep, he is convinced, makes children stupid, that’s why the night rest is shortened.

Here – cited but abridged – an original letter by the King dictating the daily routine for the nine year old crown prince:

Regulations, how my oldest son Friedrich should do his studies in Wusterhausen. Wusterhausen, 3rd September 1721

 (…) On Monday He should be waked and (…) should be admonished so that He, instead of resting or turning around again in bed, quickly and instantly gets up, and then He must kneel down and give a little prayer (about 20 minutes, Britta) as on Sunday morning. As soon as he has done that He should get into his clothes as quick as possible, also wash his face and hands, but not with soap, further He should dress, comb his hair and put it into a plait, but not let it be powdered. While he lets himself get combed (…) he should at the same time drink his tea and eat breakfast so that it is One work at once, and He has to be ready with all that before half past six.”

Then he was taught in Bible reading, History, Christendom, Map, Moral, and German letters.

„At five o’clock p.m. He should wash his hands and go to the King, ride out, diverting himself in fresh air and not in the chamber and do what He wants, so long as it is not against God.”

On Tuesday fencing is added to the curriculum, also letter writing and arithmetics, Wednesday only history „to strengthen memory“, Thursday as Monday, but instead of German letter writing French and arithmetic, Saturday “everything will be repeated what He has learned in the whole week (…) to see if He has profited, then the afternoon is for Fritzen, but if He has not profited, He should repeat everything He had forgotten between two to six o’clock.

You should get him used to dress as quickly as a human being can. You should also teach him that he does the dressing himself and that He becomes proper and tidy, and not so dirty.”

On Sunday poor little Fritz is allowed to rise at 7 a.m. – but has to hurry to dress, wash, comb, powder and pray in a quarter of an hour.

“Then He should breakfast in seven minutes time.”

Well, you could say, that is a tough curriculum – but why the CPS?

Friedrich is often beaten, when twelve years old the father gives his son slaps in the face in public; often he gets confinement to his room with bread and water, and Friedrich writes, how his father e.g. gets berserk about a lesson in Latin („Papa, I decline mensa, ae“)and yelled at the teacher:

“Oh, you villain, Latin for my son! Get out of my sight!” and he gave him a beating and kicks (…) Scared by the blows and by the furious look on my father’s face, I hid under the table, stiff with fright, (…). I saw my father after the accomplished throw-out come after me – I shake even more, he grips me at my hair, pulls me from under the table, drags me into the middle of the room and finally gives me some boxes on the ears: “Come again with your mensa and you will see how I’ll set your head straight!”

                “Books, flute, documents – when he caught them they were thrown into the fireplace, and always the burning of my books was accompanied by strokes or very insistent rebukes.”

But it should get even worse.  

(all quotes from „Allergnädigster Vater“, editor Frank Schumann, Berlin 1968, translated by me)

Spring Cleaning

A few days before I got a call: an interview by a press agency. The wanted some advice about spring cleaning and similar household questions.

You might know that I have written a book HomeBasics, which is in the fourth edition now and sells well. So I am an “expert”. But what shall I say to spring cleaning?

If you follow a certain routine, it just isn’t necessary any more, I think. It was very valuable when they heated with coal and the walls were covered with a film of soot – but nowadays?

Of course one can do a few things like getting the upholstered furniture cleaned or rummaging through your wardrobe (the journalist liked my tip to take a picture from your clothes before putting them away - after you have washed them or fetched them from the dry-cleaner, and before putting some mothproofing inside the containers). I have those pictures on my computer now, because last year – errm – I bought 3 (three!) white jackets in spring – and then came Husband and brought me the boxes I stored in our house in Hildesheim – and inside I found – errm – some more white jackets – I had forgotten that I owned them… That will never happen again!

(Now I look into my computer, let’s say in February – and discover that I have ONLY 4 white jackets, so I hurry to the KaDeWe J No, of course that is nonsense: at the moment I try to manage my wardrobe so that I wear most  items often.)

I am really interested: do you do any special spring cleaning? 

How to make your Life more exciting - with Blogger's new Word Verification!

Sometimes (but seldom) I use word verification for my own blog.
But YOU use it often. The last days I thought: what has happened? Has there been a conspiracy of the opticians to force me to buy a pair of specs? Should I take out the interesting booklet from Alduous Huxley (yes, Him) "The Art of Seeing"? Had those How To-Books lied to me when they said that with the beginning of getting older your sight will improve? (Come to think of it: they must have. Lied. Because getting older starts in the craddle).
I rubbed my eagle eyes when I looked at the strange hieroglyphs under your texts. But was still to proud to use the hearing-aid they offered at the side of it - mind: I must have something hopeful to look for at my Old Age.
But: I found a cure! I read in Nutty Gnomes post a recommendation, the blog 'The View From Bag End':
http://theviewfrombagend.blogspot.com/2012/02/bloggers-latest-improvement-word.html?showComment=1330504700507#c2711131748199240680
- and there was a soul who was not only sharing a problem with me, but also offering a solution!
Thank you for that!

Here we go again (speak for yourself, girl!)

Spring is in the air, definitely - and Yours Truly starts to become restless. Looks out for a new blog (homemade, of course) as others look for a new wardrobe. (Well, she's doing that too - I'm fed up with articles about The Savvy Life, How to Throw out and Streamline your Clothes, etc)
But technology keeps me at bay. Even when I deleted one blog I was not allowed to create a new one - maybe the Google-Watchdog has fallen asleep over my third post about Ol' Frederick... or maybe it is just his springtime lethargy hindering him to read anything "witty" anymore.
Anyway - I skip the idea of a new blog and look at what I have. (A very good idea in Life as such!)
"Gardening in High Heels" slumbers peacefully - it became a victim of my Prussian honesty. I have to face it: my grand beautiful garden no longer exists (for me) - that's why I had the idea to write a blog called "Balcony-Gardening in Kitten Heels". (Sometimes Life reduces me to normal height).
I pondered, vexed. I was upset. No other blog? No new clothes?
But then: I am versatile. One of my best character traits - as I see it - is being able to adjust. Sometimes it takes a little longer - when the grief about a loss is very deep - but even then: Spring will come.
So I use what I have: 'Gardening in High Heels' will take my new kitten heels on board and must accept gardening on a balcony; and on "You are Witty and Pretty" you'll find a new section - to be recognized by the picture above with the happy drawing of Janosch. That signals: just plain Everyday-Life as seen by Yours Truly - not especially witty, not especially pretty, (mind: I'm speaking of the post!) but hopefully as fresh as a daisy.

Ishimoto Yasuhiro: Katsura

"Dear Corbu, everything we've been fighting for has parallels in ancient Japan culture. The Japanese house is the best and most modern I know and it is truly prefabricated."
Walter Gropius, who visited Japan in 1954, wrote these enthusiastic words to his friend Le Corbusier. As a founder of the Bauhaus School (along with Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier) he aimed at "standardisation, prefabrication and simplicity" - and was surprised to find all these principles in Japan.
In 1960 a stunning square book, "Katsura. Tradition and Creation in Japanese Architecture" was published, with essays by Walter Gropius, Kenzo Tange and 140 photographs by Ishimoto Yasuhiro, the book coverered in blue silk with a white circle in the middle, intended as a reference to the Japanese flag.
Now the Bauhaus-Archiv in Berlin shows an exhibition of 50 photographs of Katsura by Ishimoto Yasuhiro.

Everything I quote here I learned from this exhibition.
Yasuhiro was born in 1921 in San Francisco and spent his adolescent years in Japan, then returned 1939 to Chicago to study architecture.
Two times he took photographs from the Villa Katsura, a building that Prince Toshihito had started around 1620 at the Katsura River west of Tokyo, on a ground with a particularly good view of the moon.
In 1883 the villa became the property of the Emperor, and was restored in the 1980s. Its gardens extend over 50000 square metres.
The black and white photographs of 1960 are very impressive, almost as if nobody ever lived in the buildings, the three dimensions of a room are reduced to flat patterns. In 1983 Ishimoto Yasuhiro published coloured photos of Katsura with "all of the elements which had been omitted from the extremely purified photography of the 1960 volume" (Kuraishi Shino).
Ishimoto Yasuhiro himself asks:
"I suddenly began to realize that what I had previously sought as beauty was in fact nothing more than a reductive beauty. I sought the extreme where all surplus was completely avoided, and yet the extremely correct form that resulted - wasn't it a completely narrow amount that did not allow any additional baggage?"
A very interesting question. Photography is always a subjective way to see the world, it is an art - you think about your composition, you omit, you choose a special detail, a segment or angle -
in short: you create.
The great photographer Ishimoto Yasuhiro died on 6th February 2012.