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Specialised in Marine, Marketing & Psychometrics Translations
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Spanish to English: Los hijos de la cordillera / Children of the Cordillera General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Spanish 22. Roy Harley - Los hijos de la cordillera
En 1995, Daniel Fernández y yo organizamos el primer viaje a la cordillera. Sólo Nando había ido antes, con su padre, caminando durante días y días por la montaña, sobre un sendero que no existía. Fuimos doce de los dieciséis. Teníamos una necesidad de ir que no conseguíamos verbalizar, ni comprender en su real magnitud. Nos dimos cuenta de esa urgencia por el impacto que nos provocó, y tuve clara conciencia de que era algo muy personal, difícil de transmitir a otros. Fuimos en unas camionetas especialmente preparadas hasta la precordillera, partiendo de San Rafael, y luego seguimos a caballo, improvisando el sendero, con la ayuda de varios baqueanos. Una semana después, el ómnibus que habíamos fletado nos trajo de vuelta. Me dejó acá, en mi casa, a las 7:30 de la mañana. No había pegado un ojo en toda la noche. Venía en un estado espiritual y emocional muy intenso, como si llegara de otra dimensión, que no era sólo del pasado, sino de otra era, de otra vida. Cuando bajé, me di un fuerte abrazo con los que seguían en el ómnibus rumbo a sus casas, saqué mi bolso y abrí la puerta de entrada. Fue extraño encontrarme en casa, estaba al borde del llanto. A la primera que veo es a mi hija Carolina, en el momento exacto en que se estaba yendo al colegio. Yo suelto el bolso para darle un abrazo muy, muy intenso, pero como ella no compartía mi estado anímico, ni tenía por qué compartirlo, porque no venía de ninguna montaña, con su sonrisa más franca me besa la mejilla, y como si tal cosa, porque para ella yo venía de un viaje cualquiera, me dice: “Hola papá, ¿cómo te fue?”. Pero antes de que pudiera responderle, agrega: “Después te veo, chau”, otro beso y desapareció.
Translation - English 22. Roy Harley* - The Cordillera Children
In 1995, Daniel Fernández and I organised the first trip back to the Cordillera. Nando was the only one to have been before, with his father, walking for days on end on a non-existent track through the mountains. Twelve out of the sixteen of us went. We needed to do it, but just couldn’t say it or understand quite how much so. We only realised just how important it was because of the impact it had on us; I knew full well that it was something deeply personal, something difficult to convey to others. We travelled from San Rafael to the Precordillera in specially prepared vans before continuing on an improvised track on horseback, with the help of various local guides. A week later, the bus we had hired took us back, dropping me off at home at 7.30 am. I hadn’t slept a wink all night. I had been in an extremely intense spiritual and emotional state, as though I was from another dimension, one which was not only in the past but also another life. When it was time to get off I hugged those who were staying on the bus to their houses, took out my bag and opened the front door. It was strange to be home; I was on the verge of tears. My daughter Carolina was the first person I saw, just as she was leaving for school. I let go of my bag to give her an impassioned hug but since she wasn’t in the same frame of mind, for obvious reasons, and since she hadn’t just returned from the mountain, she smiled at me as usual and kissed my cheek, before saying “Hi papá, how did it go?”. For her it was a day no different to any other—I could have arrived back from anywhere. “See you later,” she added, giving me another kiss and disappearing before I’d even had a chance to reply.
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Master's degree - University College London
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Years of experience: 15. Registered at ProZ.com: Feb 2012.
French to English (University College London) Spanish to English (University College London)
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