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English to Catalan: A New England Nun, by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (excerpt) General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English A New England Nun
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning. There was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing, and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm-wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue-shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past; little swarms of flies were dancing up and down before the peoples' faces in the soft air. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything, for the mere sake of subsidence--a very premonition of rest and hush and night.
This soft diurnal commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing at her sitting-room window all the afternoon. Now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely, and laid in a basket with her thimble and thread and scissors. Louisa Ellis could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from long use and constant association, a very part of her personality.
Louisa tied a green apron round her waist, and got out a flat straw hat with a green ribbon. Then she went into the garden with a little blue crockery bowl, to pick some currants for her tea. After the currants were picked she sat on the back door-step and stemmed them, collecting the stems carefully in her apron, and afterwards throwing them into the hen-coop. She looked sharply at the grass beside the step to see if any had fallen there.
Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea; but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her own self. The little square table stood exactly in the centre of the kitchen, and was covered with a starched linen cloth whose border pattern of flowers glistened. Louisa had a damask napkin on her tea-tray, where were arranged a cut-glass tumbler full of teaspoons, a silver cream-pitcher, a china sugar-bowl, and one pink china cup and saucer. Louisa used china every day-something which none of her neighbors did. They whispered about it among themselves. Their daily tables were laid with common crockery, their sets of best china stayed in the parlor closet, and Louisa Ellis was no richer nor better bred than they. Still she would use the china. She had for her supper a glass dish full of sugared currants, a plate of little cakes, and one of little white biscuits. Also a leaf or two of lettuce, which she cut up daintily. Louisa was very fond of lettuce, which she raised to perfection in her little garden. She ate quite heartily, though, in a delicate, pecking, way; it seemed almost surprising that any considerable bulk of the food should vanish.
After tea she filled a plate with nicely baked thin corn- cakes, and carried them out into the back-yard.
"Caesar!" she called. " Caesar! Caesar!"
There was a little rush, and the clank of a chain, and a large yellow-and-white dog appeared at the door of his tiny hut, which was half hidden among the tall grasses and flowers. Louisa patted him and gave him the corn-cakes. Then she returned to the house and washed the tea-things, polishing the china carefully. The twilight had deepened; the chorus of the frogs floated in at the open window wonderfully loud and shrill, and once in a while a long sharp drone from a tree-toad pierced it. Louisa took off her green gingham apron, disclosing a shorter one of pink and white print. She lighted her lamp, and sat down again with her sewing.
Translation - Catalan Una monja de Nova Anglaterra
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Era a última hora de la tarda i la llum començava a minvar. Les ombres dels tres arbres del jardí es veien diferents. Al lluny, les vaques bramaven i una petita campana dringava; de tant en tant, un carro passava a tota velocitat aixecant polseguera; alguns jornalers amb camises blaves caminaven lentament, carregant les pales a les espatlles; petits eixams de mosques dansaven amunt i avall, davant dels nassos de la gent, en un ambient plàcid. Semblava que un lleuger moviment planés sobre totes les coses i que després amainés —premonició de repòs, de silenci i de la proximitat de la nit.
Aquesta plàcida tremolor diürna també afectava la Louisa Ellis, que s’havia passat la tarda cosint al costat de la finestra de la sala d’estar. En aquell moment enconxava curosament amb l’agulla un tros de tela plegada de manera ben precisa i la desava al cistell amb el didal, el fil i les tisores. La Louisa no recordava mai haver extraviat cap d’aquestes petites pertinences femenines, que s’havien convertit, per l’ús constant que n’havia fet al llarg dels anys, en una part important de la seva personalitat.
La Louisa va lligar-se el davantal verd a la cintura i va agafar un canotier amb una cinta verda. Va sortir al jardí amb un petit bol blau de terrissa a collir unes groselles per al te. Després de collir les groselles es va asseure a l’esglaó de la porta del darrere per separar-les de la tija, que va arreplegar sobre el davantal i va tirar al galliner. Va mirar atentament l’herba del costat de l’esglaó, per comprovar que no n’hi hagués caigut cap.
La Louisa era lenta i pacient en els moviments; va trigar força a preparar el te però quan va estar llest el va presentar amb elegància, com si fos una convidada d’ella mateixa. Hi havia una petita taula quadrada al bell mig de la cuina, coberta d’unes estovalles de lli emmidonades amb un estampat relluent de flors a les puntes. La Louisa havia posat un tovalló de domàs a la safata de te, on també hi havia un got de vidre tallat ple de culleretes, una gerra de plata per servir la llet, un bol de sucre de porcellana i una tassa i un platet de porcellana rosa. La Louisa treia el joc de porcellana diàriament... cosa que no feia cap dels seus veïns. Entre ells, i xiuxiuejant, feien comentaris al respecte; a les seves cases la taula es parava amb la vaixella de cada dia i el millor joc de porcellana el guardaven a l’armari del saló. La Louisa no era ni més rica ni de més bona família, però ella sí que el treia. Per sopar, menjava groselles amb sucre en un plat de vidre, un platet de pastissets i un altre de galetes blanques lleugeres. També menjava una o dues fulles d’enciam, que tallava amb delicadesa. A la Louisa li agradava molt l’enciam, que cultivava a la perfecció al seu petit jardí. Menjava de gust, encara que de manera fina i picotejant; sorprenia que grans quantitats de menjar acabessin desapareixent del plat.
Després del te preparava un plat de coques fines de blat de moro fetes al forn i les portava al pati de darrere.
—Cesar! —cridava—. Cesar! Cesar!
Aleshores se sentia una corredissa acompanyada del so metàl·lic d’una cadena i un gos gegant d’un color blanc groguenc apareixia a la porta de la seva petita caseta mig amagada entre l’herba alta i les flors. La Louisa l’amanyagava i li donava les coques. Després tornava a entrar a casa per rentar els estris del te i abrillantar la porcellana amb cura. Més entrat el capvespre, un cor de granotes flotava i entrava per la finestra, extraordinàriament fort i estrident, de tant en tant interromput pel brunzit d’un gripau arborícola. La Louisa es va treure el davantal de quadres verd i se’n va posar un de més petit de color rosa i blanc. Va encendre el llum i va tornar a asseure’s per cosir.
English to Catalan: George Anastaplo's Blog/El blog d'en George Anastaplo General field: Social Sciences Detailed field: Philosophy
Source text - English George Anastaplo’s Blog:
Reflections on Chance in an Ordered World
Is it not the intelligible that we, as rational beings, are naturally inclined to seek, whether in the vast reaches of time and space or in the tiniest building blocks of matter—as well as even in the ever-changing news of the day? By pursuing these and like questions (about both transitory and enduring matters), and sharing with others what we may somehow learn, we in turn can be the benefactors of those who happen to follow us, perhaps even making thereby our own lives seem more meaningful.
George Anastaplo was an unlikely blogger. I think he was (and remains) the only person ever to have a blog and to openly admit that he doesn’t use email. He did not own a computer and never used a word processing program For the whole period of more than 35 years during which I knew him (including more than 40 Basic Program courses), Anastaplo rarely referred to “computers” but he often, disparagingly, referred to “those machines” or “your machines.” In short, most modern technology, including computers, did not appeal to his interest in “enduring matters.”
I.
Like a number of other people, I had heard of George Anastaplo before I met him. I enrolled in a first-year class in the Basic Program in the fall of 1978 and there he was, accompanied by Plato’s Meno (not the edition that he later translated and edited with Lawrence Berne). Prior to that, I had heard, in a very cursory form, of Anastaplo as the principal in a long-ago (or so it seemed then) court case involving some kind of free speech issue against the U.S. government.
Anastaplo was always curious—curious in his teaching style and curious in his approach to everything in life. His teaching style included many personal anecdotes and cross references from one text to another in the Program. Each class was sharply focused on the text, which was considered both by itself and with references, as needed, to the times and events when the text was written. Although he clearly knew a great deal about every topic we covered, Anastaplo always gave the impression that he was probing the text with the class, looking for things that had not been seen before. This earned him a reputation as the “master of the unexpected question.” Anastaplo was also remarkably down to earth (it must be noted that prior to this class my recent educational experiences had been with the graduate-level faculty at The University of Chicago, a group rarely described as down to earth).
Perhaps the most distinctive feature of Anastaplo’s classroom teaching style was that, regardless of the type of text, he began by analyzing its “principle of order,” i.e., how the author organized the material or parts of the material. This analysis often began with counting the number of chapters in a book or the number of lines in a play or poem, with the most important point of the author being in the first, the last, or the middle position. As an example, Anastaplo frequently cited his own finding about the catalogue of ships in Book 2 of Homer’s Iliad. The naval force under the leadership of Odysseus is listed exactly midway between the contingent headed by Agamemnon and that headed by Achilles; the organizing principle in this case, Anastaplo argued, implicitly characterizes the fundamental relationships among the three characters. According to Anastaplo, although numeric relationships are not the only principle of order (a grocery list, for instance, may be organized by the geographic layout of the store), order does not happen accidentally and there is always a principle of order—no intelligent author can function without one. The principle of order may reveal much about an author’s way of thinking. I can recall only two texts that frustrated Anastaplo in his search for their principle of order: Montesquieu’s The Spirit of the Laws, and Pascal’s The Provincial Letters. (Was it coincidental, Anastaplo then wondered, that both authors were French?)
II.
Shortly after that first Basic Program course, I learned that Anastaplo and I were physical neighbors, living less than a block apart in Hyde Park. That provided the opportunity for many chance encounters, often at Powell’s Bookstore (used books) where we occasionally met to sort through the weekly discarded volumes. I don’t recall that we ever wanted the same book (we seemed to have nonoverlapping interests in the obscure and unwanted), but he often had comments on the available titles. And he certainly had casual observations about other things going on in the world. Because he didn’t drive at that time, when the venue for Basic Program classes switched from Hyde Park to downtown Chicago, I frequently gave him a ride home after class, and our conversations ranged widely but were rarely more serious than baseball. The only area of open disagreement between us was the merits of the designated hitter (an “abomination”—his word). This was clearly a clash between his classical world view and my more pragmatic one, in which baseball, like everything else, evolves and adapts regardless of consequences to an ideal of how the sport should be. A few years later we reached reconciliation, agreeing that the Cubs would never win a pennant with the popular and powerful Sammy Sosa in the lineup unless the National League changed its rules and allowed him to be a DH.
This status of “neighborliness” characterized our relationship even after I moved out of Hyde Park, and it seemed to describe Anastaplo’s relationship with many of the alumni students. In class he would often invite “expert” contributions from students with special knowledge or interests: as an artist, a doctor, a traveler, a judge, a psychiatrist, a scientist (me). In later years when Anastaplo was teaching sequences of three quarters on the same topic in the alumni courses, many of the students were regular attendees from year to year, and in January he would always ask the class for suggestions about what they would like to work on the next year. But Anastaplo’s neighborliness extended deeper into Hyde Park and beyond the Basic Program. On one occasion at Powell’s he asked me if I would like to come to an ice-cream reception in his backyard the following week for his friend, Professor Chandrasekhar. I later learned how much Anastaplo respected Professor Chandrasekhar’s work, especially on Isaac Newton. He would similarly speak of his discussions with the distinguished and the undistinguished from all walks of life. On another occasion I was attending a book signing event at another bookstore. The author was former U.S. Attorney General Ramsey Clark. I happened to be wearing a jacket that proclaimed “University of Chicago Handball Club.” When I reached Mr. Clark’s table he noticed my jacket and commented, “You’re from the University of Chicago. Do you happen to know George Anastaplo?” When I replied that I did, he said, “Well, tell him that I said hello.” Several years later Anastaplo gave me a book on handball, apparently one of the discards from another used bookstore that he visited. I reciprocated by giving him an article from Handball Magazine on Abraham Lincoln as a handball player.
The most interesting of my happenstance encounters with Anastaplo occurred in 1989 when we found out that we were both going to be in Rome in a few weeks. He said I should come to a certain park around noon “if you’re free.” As it happened, I showed up there. He and his wife Sara were having a picnic, and they offered me a sandwich and then suggested we walk a few blocks to the “best ice-cream shop in Rome” (again, his words). I’m sure that any good guidebook would have highlighted the same sites along our walk, but none would have had the eagerness that Anastaplo had in discussing the Villa Borghese, the partial inspiration for Respighi’s Pines of Rome, the place where Edward Gibbon sat and concluded that he should write his history of Rome, and especially the church containing two pictures by Caravaggio. He let me buy the ice cream for both him and Sara.
Translation - Catalan El blog d’en George Anastaplo:
Reflexions sobre l’atzar en un món ordenat
No és allò intel·ligible el que, nosaltres, com a éssers racionals, tenim tendència a buscar, ja sigui en les vastes magnituds del temps i l’espai, en els minúsculs components bàsics de la matèria o en les notícies del dia, que canvien a cada moment? Quan aprofundim en aquestes qüestions, o similars (tan sigui sobre assumptes transitoris com permanents), compartint amb els altres el què d’alguna manera aprenem, també podem beneficiar-nos d’aquells que ens segueixen, potser fins i tot donant més sentit a les nostres vides .
En George Anastaplo era un bloguer poc corrent. Em penso que era (i encara és) la única persona que té un blog i que reconeix, obertament, que no fa servir el correu electrònic . No tenia ordinador ni feia servir un processador de textos . Durant els més de 35 anys en què el vaig tractar (incloent-hi més de 40 cursos del Programa Bàsic), l’Anastaplo es referia als “ordinadors” en comptades ocasions, però quan ho feia sovint al·ludia, despectivament, a “aquelles màquines” o “les vostres màquines”. En definitiva, gran part de la tecnologia moderna, ordinadors inclosos, no casava amb el seu interès “pels assumptes permanents” .
I.
Com passa amb algunes persones , vaig sentir parlar d’en George Anastaplo abans de conèixer-lo. Em vaig apuntar a un curs de primer any del Programa Bàsic la tardor de 1978 i allí me’l vaig trobar acompanyat del Menó, de Plató (no l’edició que més endavant va traduir i editar amb en Lawrence Berne). Abans d’això, m’havia arribat, de manera molt superficial, que l’Anastaplo havia estat actor en un antic (almenys ho semblava, en aquell moment) cas relacionat amb un assumpte de llibertat d’expressió contra el govern dels Estats Units .
L’Anastaplo era una persona amb molta curiositat, tan en la seva docència com en la manera d’enfrontar-se amb la vida quotidiana. Ensenyava fent servir nombroses anècdotes personals i referències als diversos textos que integraven el programa. Les classes estaven molt centrades en els textos, que es treballaven per sí mateixos i fent al·lusió, quan era necessari, al seu context històric. Encara que era evident que coneixia els temes que tractàvem amb profunditat, l’Anastaplo donava la impressió d’estar explorant els textos amb els alumnes, buscant elements que no havia vist abans. Així es va guanyar la reputació de ser el “mestre de la pregunta inesperada” . L’Anastaplo també era una persona que tocava molt de peus a terra (abans d’aquest curs, la meva recent experiència educativa havia estat entre els professors de postgrau a la Universitat de Chicago, un grup de persones que difícilment descriuria com que tocaven de peus a terra).
Potser el tret més distintiu en la docència de l’Anastaplo era que, més enllà del tipus de text que tractàvem, ell sempre començava analitzant el “principi d’ordre”, és a dir, com l’autor organitzava el material, o alguns fragments del material . Aquest anàlisi sovint començava amb un recompte dels capítols del llibre, del nombre de línies en una obra de teatre o de versos en un poema, amb la idea més important trobant-se al principi, al final, o al mig. Un exemple: l’Anastaplo citava freqüentment les seves troballes en relació al catàleg de vaixells que apareixen en el Llibre Segon de la Ilíada, d’Homer. El poder naval sota el comandament d’Odisseu està enumerat exactament entre el contingent encapçalat per Agamèmnon i el d’Aquil·les , el principi d’ordre, en aquest cas, i segons Anastaplo, caracteritzant de manera implícita les relacions entre aquests tres personatges. Segons ell, encara que les relacions numèriques no son l’únic principi d’ordre (una llista de la compra, per exemple, es pot organitzar segons la distribució dels productes a la botiga), l’ordre no és accidental i sempre depèn d’un principi d’ordre, sense el que cap autor podria funcionar. El principi d’ordre ens dona molta informació sobre la manera de pensar de l’autor. Només recordo dos textos que frustraven l’Anastaplo en la seva recerca del principi d’ordre: L’esperit de les lleis, de Montesquieu, i les Cartes perses, de Pascal. (És una coincidència, es preguntava Anastaplo, que ambdós eren francesos?)
II.
Després del curs introductori, vaig saber que l’Anastaplo i jo érem veïns, i que vivíem a menys d’un carrer de distància, al costat de Hyde Park. Això ens va oferir la possibilitat de trobar-nos cada dos per tres, sovint a la llibreria Powell’s (de llibres de segona mà) on repassàvem els títols que havíem descartat aquella setmana. No recordo que volguéssim mai el mateix llibre (teníem interessos divergents), però sovint feia comentaris sobre les obres que estaven disponibles. I certament tenia coses a dir sobre el que passava al món. Com en aquella època no conduïa, quan el Programa Bàsic va canviar d’ubicació –de Hyde Park al centre de Chicago- moltes vegades el portava a casa, després de classe, i les nostres converses, encara que molt variades, rarament tractaven de temes més seriosos que el beisbol. L’únic en el que no estàvem d’acord era en els mèrits del batedor designat (una “abominació”, deia, textualment). Aquí es produïa un xoc entre la seva visió clàssica del món i el meu pragmatisme: el beisbol, com totes les coses, evoluciona i s’adapta sense tenir en compte l’ideal de com hauria de ser. Anys més tard ens vam reconciliar: coincidíem en que els Cubs no guanyarien la Lliga Nacional mentre no canviessin les normes i es permetés que l’admirat i poderós Sammy Sosa fos un batedor designat.
L’estatus de veïns va caracteritzar les nostres relacions fins i tot després de mudar-me de Hyde Park, i semblava descriure la manera que tenia l’Anastaplo de tractar a molts dels seus antics alumnes. Durant els cursos sovint convidava estudiants amb coneixements o interessos específics (artistes, metges, viatgers, jutges, psiquiatres o científics –com jo mateix- ) per a que parlessin com a “experts”. Anys més tard, quan l’Anastaplo era professor dels cursos de tres quadrimestres per a antics alumnes , molts d’ells repetien any rere any, i al gener sempre demanava propostes sobre el que voldrien treballar l’any següent . Però el caràcter “veïnal” de l’Anastaplo anava més enllà de Hyde Park i del Programa Bàsic. Una vegada, a Powell’s, em va convidar a menjar gelat al seu jardí en una recepció per al seu amic, el professor Chandrasekhar. Més endavant vaig esbrinar que l’Anastaplo respectava molt les investigacions del professor Chandrasekhar, sobretot en relació a Isaac Newton . Parlava de la mateixa manera de les seves converses amb gent de tota mena, distingida o no . Una vegada vaig anar a una llibreria on Ramsey Clark, fiscal general dels Estats Units, estava signant exemplars. Jo portava una jaqueta que deia: “Club d’Handbol de la Universitat de Chicago”. Quan vaig arribar davant el Sr.Clark, es va fixar en la jaqueta i va comentar, “Ets de la Universitat de Chicago. No coneixes pas en George Anastaplo?” Quan vaig contestar que sí. Em va dir, “Bé, doncs saluda’l de part meva”. Alguns anys després l’Anastaplo em va regalar un llibre sobre handbol, descartat per una altre de les llibreries que freqüentava. Jo li vaig correspondre amb un article de la Handball Magazine sobre el fet que Abraham Lincoln jugava a aquest esport .
La més interessant de les nostres trobades fortuïtes es va produir l’any 1989, quan ens vam adonar que seriem a Roma les mateixes dates. Em va proposar de visitar un parc al migdia, “si tenia temps”. M’hi vaig presentar: ell i la seva esposa Sara estaven fent un pícnic. Em van oferir un sandvitx i em van suggerir de caminar uns quants carrers fins on es trobava “la millor botiga de gelats a Roma”(textualment). Estic segur que qualsevol guia hagués pogut recomanar els mateixos llocs, però cap ho hagués fet amb l’entusiasme amb que l’Anastaplo parlava de la Villa Borghese, que va inspirar, parcialment, Els pins de Roma, de Respighi, el lloc on seia Edward Gibbon quan va decidir que havia d’escriure la seva història de Roma, i especialment l’església on es trobaven dos pintures de Caravaggio. Em va deixar que els convidés, a ell i a la seva dona, a un gelat.
English to Spanish: Citizen Kane, by Bosley Crowther General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Cinema, Film, TV, Drama
Source text - English Citizen Kane
By BOSLEY CROWTHER
Within the withering spotlight as no other film has ever been before, Orson Welles's "Citizen Kane" had is world première at the Palace last evening. And now that the wraps are off, the mystery has been exposed and Mr. Welles and the RKO directors have taken the much-debated leap, it can be safely stated that suppression of this film would have been a crime. For, in spite of some disconcerting lapses and strange ambiguities in the creation of the principal character, "Citizen Kane" is far and away the most surprising and cinematically exciting motion picture to be seen here in many a moon. As a matter of fact, it comes close to being the most sensational film ever made in Hollywood.Count on Mr. Welles; he doesn't do things by halves. Being a mercurial fellow, with a frightening theatrical flair, he moved right into the movies, grabbed the medium by the ears and began to toss it around with the dexterity of a seasoned veteran. Fact is, he handled it with more verve and inspired ingenuity than any of the elder craftsmen have exhibited in years. With the able assistance of Gregg Toland, whose services should not be overlooked, he found in the camera the perfect instrument to encompass his dramatic energies and absorb his prolific ideas. Upon the screen he discovered an area large enough for his expansive whims to have free play. And the consequence is that he has made a picture of tremendous and overpowering scope, not in physical extent so much as in its rapid and graphic rotation of thoughts. Mr. Welles has put upon the screen a motion picture that really moves.As for the story which he tells—and which has provoked such an uncommon fuss—this corner frankly holds considerable reservation. Naturally we wouldn't know how closely—if at all—it parallels the life of an eminent publisher, as has been somewhat cryptically alleged. But that is beside the point in a rigidly critical appraisal. The blamable circumstance is that it fails to provide a clear picture of the character and motives behind the man about whom the whole thing revolves.As the picture opens, Charles Kane lies dying in the fabulous castle he has built—the castle called Xanadu, in which he has surrounded himself with vast treasures. And as death closes his eyes his heavy lips murmur one word, "Rosebud." Suddenly the death scene is broken; the screen becomes alive with a staccato March-of-Time-like news feature recounting the career of the dead man—how, as a poor boy, he came into great wealth, how he became a newspaper publisher as a young man, how he aspired to political office, was defeated because of a personal scandal, devoted himself to material acquisition and finally died.But the editor of the news feature is not satisfied; he wants to know the secret of Kane's strange nature and especially what he meant by "Rosebud." So a reporter is dispatched to find out, and the remainder of the picture is devoted to an absorbing visualization of Kane's phenomenal career as told by his boyhood guardian, two of his closest newspaper associates and his mistress. Each is agreed on one thing—that Kane was a titanic egomaniac. It is also clearly revealed that the man was in some way consumed by his own terrifying selfishness. But just exactly what it is that eats upon him, why it is there and, for that matter, whether Kane is really a villain, a social parasite, is never clearly revealed. And the final, poignant identification of "Rosebud" sheds little more than a vague, sentimental light upon his character. At the end Kubla Kane is still an enigma—a very confusing one.But check that off to the absorption of Mr. Welles in more visible details. Like the novelist, Thomas Wolfe, his abundance of imagery is so great that it sometimes gets in the way of his logic. And the less critical will probably be content with an undefined Kane, anyhow. After all, nobody understood him. Why should Mr. Welles? Isn't it enough that he presents a theatrical character with consummate theatricality?We would, indeed, like to say as many nice things as possible about everything else in this film—about the excellent direction of Mr. Welles, about the sure and penetrating performances of literally every member of the cast and about the stunning manner in which the music of Bernard Herrmann has been used. Space, unfortunately, is short. All we can say, in conclusion, is that you shouldn't miss this film. It is cynical, ironic, sometimes oppressive and as realistic as a slap. But it has more vitality than fifteen other films we could name. And, although it may not give a thoroughly clear answer, at least it brings to mind one deeply moral thought: For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? See "Citizen Kane" for further details.
Translation - Spanish Ciudadano Kane
Por BOSLEY CROWTHER
En el centro de todas las miradas, como hasta ahora ninguna otra película lo había estado, Ciudadano Kane, de Orson Welles, se estrenó anoche en el Palace. Ahora que se ha levantado el velo, que se ha descubierto el misterio y que Welles y los responsables de la RKO han dado el salto del que tanto se había hablado, se puede afirmar con seguridad que la cancelación de esta película habría sido un crimen. Porque, a pesar de algunas lagunas desconcertantes y de las extrañas ambigüedades en la creación del personaje principal, Ciudadano Kane es de lejos la película más sorprendente y cinematográficamente emocionante que se ha podido ver desde hace mucho tiempo. De hecho, está cerca de ser la película más sensacional jamás filmada en Hollywood. Podéis confiar en Welles, que no hace las cosas a medias. Siendo un tipo impredecible, con un talento teatral espeluznante, se ha pasado directamente al cine, ha agarrado el medio por las orejas y lo ha sacudido con la destreza de un veterano experimentado. El hecho es que lo ha manejado con más ingenio e inspiración que cualquiera de los artesanos durante los últimos años. Con la ayuda de Gregg Toland, cuyos servicios no deben pasarse por alto, ha encontrado en la cámara el instrumento perfecto para abarcar sus energías dramáticas y absorber sus ideas prolíficas. En la pantalla, ha descubierto un espacio lo suficientemente grande para dar rienda suelta a sus numerosos caprichos. La consecuencia es que ha hecho una película de un alcance tremendo y abrumador, no tanto por su duración, sino por la rápida y gráfica variedad de ideas que contiene. Welles ha plasmado en la pantalla una película que realmente se mueve. En cuanto a la historia, que ha provocado un alboroto inusual, desde esta columna tenemos algunas reticencias. Naturalmente, no sabríamos hasta qué punto relata, o no, la vida de un famoso editor, como se ha afirmado crípticamente. Pero eso, en una evaluación estrictamente crítica, no viene al caso. Lo criticable es que no proporciona una imagen clara del personaje, de las motivaciones del hombre sobre el que gira toda la película. En el arranque, Charles Kane yace moribundo en el fabuloso castillo de Xanadu, que se ha construido para sí mismo, rodeado de múltiples tesoros. Justo cuando llega la muerte para cerrarle los ojos, sus labios pesados murmuran una palabra: "Rosebud". De repente, la escena de la muerte termina y la pantalla se llena de vida con una serie entrecortada de noticias en formato documental, al estilo de The March of Time, que relatan la carrera del fallecido: cómo pasó de niño pobre a poseer una gran fortuna, cómo de joven se convirtió en editor de periódicos, cómo aspiraba a un cargo político y fue derrotado por culpa de un escándalo personal, cómo se dedicó a acumular bienes y finalmente murió. Pero el director del noticiario no está satisfecho; quiere conocer el secreto de la naturaleza misteriosa de Kane, y, más concretamente, lo que quiso decir con "Rosebud". Por eso envía a un periodista para averiguarlo. El resto de la película es una visualización absorbente de la fenomenal carrera de Kane, según lo que cuentan su tutor de la infancia, dos de sus socios más cercanos en el periódico y su amante. Todos están de acuerdo en una cosa: Kane era un grandioso ególatra. También vamos descubriendo que el hombre fue consumido, en cierta manera, por su propio egoísmo aterrador. ¿Pero exactamente qué le consume y por qué? Nunca se revela claramente si Kane fue un villano o un parásito social. La conmovedora revelación de lo que significa "Rosebud", al final, apenas arroja una luz vaga y sentimental sobre el personaje. Cuando termina la película, Kubla Kane sigue siendo un enigma muy confuso. Eso puede ser porque a Welles le absorben los detalles más evidentes. Al igual que Thomas Wolfe, el novelista, la cantidad de imágenes que hay en su cabeza es tan grande que a veces se interpone en su lógica. De todos modos, los menos críticos probablemente se conformarán con un Kane indefinido. A fin de cuentas, nadie lo entendía, así que ¿por qué debería hacerlo Welles? ¿Acaso no basta con presentar a un personaje teatral, de una teatralidad consumada? De hecho, nos gustaría decir tantas cosas buenas como fuera posible sobre el resto de los elementos que componen esta película, sobre la excelente dirección de Welles, sobre las sólidas y penetrantes interpretaciones de literalmente cada miembro del reparto y sobre el uso impresionante de la música de Bernard Herrman. Lamentablemente, no tenemos mucho espacio. Todo lo que podemos decir, para concluir, es que no hay que perderse esta película. Es cínica, irónica, a veces opresiva y tan realista como una bofetada. Tiene más vitalidad que otras quince películas que podríamos nombrar. Y, aunque puede no dar respuestas del todo claras, por lo menos hace reflexionar sobre una idea profundamente moral: ¿de qué le sirve a un hombre ganar el mundo entero si pierde su propia alma? Para más detalles, id a ver Ciudadano Kane.
English to Spanish: Soccer/Real Madrid General field: Other Detailed field: Sports / Fitness / Recreation
Source text - English Zoom forward to the relatively happy summer of 2018, and with the club basking in the glow of its third consecutive Champions League title even the sudden departure of Zinedine Zidane, promoted hastily from the Castilla ‘B’ team to coach the seniors after the sacking of Benitez in January 2016, could not quite dampen the sensation of success that the ‘no hay plan’ had apparently achieved. The subsequent signing of the national coach Julen Lopetegui in controversial circumstances (three days before the beginning of the 2018 World Cup campaign) and the departure of the iconic Cristiano Ronaldo to Juventus at least served to demonstrate the fact that every rose has its thorn, particularly in the complicated context of Real Madrid. The club can never stand still, and if it ever tried to, would simply be crushed by the weight of circumstances. Perhaps Florentino Pérez once thought, back in those early days of his mandate, that he would one day control everything, maintain the club at the highest point of the podium and calm the storms of the Bernabéu for ever.
Rafa Benitez had been coaching Napoli for two years, having briefly been at Inter inbetween long spells in the English Premier League, principally with Liverpool and then for a season with Chelsea. There were plenty of reasons for employing him. His coaching record was a good one, he was born in Madrid and had played for Castilla back in the late 1980s, going on to coach them between 1993 and 1995, six years before he became known for his success at the helm of Valencia. The problem for Benitez was that Ancelotti had been popular with both the fan base and the senior players, a collective who saw no particular reason for removing him. Pérez, however, was more concerned with the threat of Barcelona’s treble, and the potential of a new period of Catalan dominance. But his panicky plan misfired, with Benitez’ over-authoritarian approach irritating the senior players. By January he was gone, despite the fact that the team were 3rd in the league and only four points behind leaders Atlético.
Benitez’ unpopularity as a person (his coaching was not questioned) once again highlighted the inability of the Real Madrid directors to strike a balance between coaching aptitude and man-management. Who was the ideal choice, or was this person really an abstraction, an unattainable fantasy cooked up by years of unfulfilled expectations of some charismatic sage who would finally restore Real Madrid to their rightful place – a white-shirted Guardiola figure, with all the correct cultural baggage?
On the surface, Zidane seemed an unlikely choice. Born in Marseille of Algerian parents, and thirteen years into his professional career when he made the move to the Bernabéu as a player, he had been treading water at the club since retiring in 2006 and working in a number of roles as ‘special adviser’, sporting director and eventually assistant coach to Ancelotti in 2013. Studying for his coaching badge he took over at Castilla in 2014, and although his record there was neither pitiful nor glorious, he was nevertheless promoted to first-team duties the same afternoon as Benitez was pushed through the revolving door. A mere five days after Benitez’ dismissal, he presided over a 5-0 victory against Deportivo de La Coruña - an auspicious start, you might say. Three months later at the Camp Nou, he led Real Madrid to a 2-1 victory which ended Barcelona’s 39-match unbeaten run, becoming the first Madrid coach to win his first clásico since Bernd Schuster in 2007. They finished the season as runners-up to Barcelona, only one point behind them. If that was a good sign, even better were the runes when the team defeated neighbours Atlético in a penalty shoot-out in the San Siro. After a mere five months, Zidane had become only the second man after Miguel Muñoz to win the European Cup as player and coach.
Despite the surprising success of the ‘undécima’ campaign, there were whispers in the press of Zidane’s ‘luck’, and of the fact that the quality of the squad simply took care of itself. This ignored the fact that there had been such obvious relief at the departure of Benitez and at the arrival of a figure who was known, liked and respected around the Bernabéu. Zidane’s trick was to stay low profile, speak simply and briefly to the press, avoid controversy and give the players the limelight. In this sense he was harking back to the methods of Vicente Del Bosque, of ‘laissez-faire’, of just letting the players get on with it. Coupled with his legendary status as a player (the contrast with Benitez was significant), the approach worked. The press relaxed, the players relaxed, and the entire Bernabéu seemingly breathed a sigh of relief.
The smile on people’s faces got even wider when in Zidane’s first full season he took the league back from Barcelona and established a 16-match consecutive win record. This was, in a sense, what Pérez had wanted, but even he had not dreamt that Zidane would repeat the Champions League success, and land the ‘duodecima’ by slaughtering Juventus 4-1 in Cardiff. The contrast at the Camp Nou, with the tetchy and edgy Luis Enrique gradually losing his grip on the press and the club’s supporters, could not have been greater. In many ways, the summer of 2017 was one of the finest in the living memory of many madridistas. Madrid’s obsession with both maintaining then furthering their historical monopoly on the Champions League can never hide the fact that their true desire is to reign supreme in Spain. In some ways, this dual obsession has created a no-man’s land of over-heightened expectations which inevitably fall short of their target – at least most of the time. In 2017 this was not the case, but the repeat possibilities were obviously scarce.
Translation - Spanish Al observar de cerca el verano relativamente tranquilo de 2018, con el club disfrutando del éxito de su tercera Liga de Campeones consecutiva, incluso la salida inesperada de Zinedine Zidane —ascendido apresuradamente del Castilla (el filial) a entrenador del primer equipo tras la destitución de Benítez en enero del 2016— no consiguió enfriar del todo la sensación de éxito aparentemente conseguido por el “no hay plan”. La posterior contratación del seleccionador nacional Julen Lopetegui, en circunstancias controvertidas —tres días antes del inicio del Mundial de 2018—, y la marcha del emblemático Cristiano Ronaldo a la Juventus sirvieron como mínimo para evidenciar que no hay nada perfecto, especialmente en el complicado entorno del Real Madrid. El club no puede detenerse nunca, y si alguna vez lo intentara, sería aplastado por las circunstancias. Quizás Florentino Pérez pensó al inicio de su mandato que un día podría controlarlo todo, mantener al club en lo más alto y calmar para siempre las tormentas sobre el Bernabéu.
Rafa Benítez había entrenado dos temporadas al Nápoles, con un breve paso por el Inter entre largas estancias en la Premier League, principalmente en el Liverpool y posteriormente durante una temporada en el Chelsea. Había muchas razones para su contratación: sus registros como entrenador eran buenos; había nacido en Madrid y jugado en el Castilla en los años ochenta, siendo posteriormente el entrenador del filial entre 1993 y 1995; y seis años antes había cosechado éxitos al frente del Valencia. El problema de Benítez fue que Ancelotti se había granjeado el favor de los aficionados y de los pesos pesados de la plantilla, que no entendieron los motivos de su destitución. Sin embargo, Pérez estaba preocupado por el triplete del Barcelona y un posible período de dominio catalán. Su plan desesperado le salió mal debido al carácter excesivamente autoritario de Benítez, que terminó por exasperar a los pesos pesados de la plantilla. En enero ya no estaba, a pesar de que el equipo iba tercero en la clasificación, sólo a cuatro puntos del líder: el Atlético.
La impopularidad de Benítez a nivel personal —su capacidad profesional nunca estuvo en duda— puso una vez más de manifiesto la incapacidad de los directivos del Madrid para encontrar el equilibrio entre la calidad del entrenador y su capacidad de gestión humana. ¿Cuál era la elección ideal? ¿Era esta persona simplemente una abstracción, una fantasía inalcanzable producto de años de expectativas no realizadas a la hora de encontrar un sabio carismático que volviera a situar al Real Madrid en el sitio que le correspondía, una especie de Guardiola con camiseta blanca que tuviera el bagaje cultural apropiado?
A primera vista, Zidane parecía una elección improbable. Nacido en Marsella, de padres argelinos, tenía treinta años cuando llegó al Bernabéu como jugador. Desde que colgó las botas en 2006 realizó todo tipo de tareas en el club: asesor especial, director deportivo y finalmente ayudante de Ancelotti en 2013. Mientras estudiaba para sacarse el título de entrenador, cogió las riendas del Castilla en 2014. Aunque sus resultados fueron mediocres, se le ofreció entrenar al primer equipo la misma tarde en que pusieron de patitas a la calle a Benítez. A los cinco días de la destitución de Benítez, dirigió la victoria por 5–0 ante el Deportivo de La Coruña. Un buen augurio, se podía pensar. A los tres meses llevó al Madrid a ganar por 2–1 en el Camp Nou, lo que terminó la racha de 39 partidos sin perder del Barcelona. Zidane fue el primer entrenador del Madrid en ganar su primer clásico desde Bernd Schuster en 2007. El equipo terminó la temporada en segundo puesto, a un solo punto del Barcelona. Si esto era una buena señal, aún más lo fue la victoria por penaltis ante los vecinos del Atlético en San Siro. En solo cinco meses Zidane se convirtió en el segundo hombre, después de Miguel Muñoz, en ganar la Copa de Europa como jugador y como entrenador.
A pesar del sorprendente éxito de la temporada de la “undécima”, hubo muchos comentarios en la prensa sobre la suerte de Zidane, apuntando a que la calidad de los jugadores había bastado para ganar. Ignoraban que la marcha de Benítez y la llegada de una persona conocida, querida y respetada en el entorno del Bernabéu supuso un gran alivio para todos. La habilidad de Zidane fue mantener un perfil bajo, transmitir a la prensa mensaje simples y concisos, evitar las controversias y dejar el primer plano a los jugadores. De esta forma se remontaba a los métodos de “laissez–faire” de Vicente del Bosque, dejando la responsabilidad a los futbolistas. Sumado esto a su estatus de leyenda como jugador (el contraste con Benítez era manifiesto), el planteamiento funcionó. Tanto la prensa como los jugadores se relajaron y todo el Bernabéu respiró aliviado.
La sonrisa en la cara de los aficionados se ensanchó todavía más cuando en la primera temporada completa de Zidane, el equipo conquistó la liga frente al Barcelona y estableció un record de 16 victorias consecutivas. De alguna manera, era lo que Pérez había deseado, pero ni incluso él podía soñar con que Zidane repetiría el éxito de la Liga de Campeones al ganar la “duodécima”. machacando a la Juventus en Cardiff por 4–1. El contraste con el Camp Nou, donde el irritable y tenso Luis Enrique iba perdiendo gradualmente el apoyo de la prensa y los aficionados, no podía ser mayor. En muchos sentidos, el verano de 2017 es uno de los mejores que los madridistas recuerdan. La obsesión del Madrid por mantener y acentuar su histórico monopolio en la Liga de Campeones no puede esconder su auténtico deseo de supremacía en España. En cierta manera, esta doble obsesión ha creado unas expectativas exageradas que inevitablemente la mayoría de las veces se han visto frustradas. No fue así en 2017, pero la probabilidad de repetir el éxito era escasa.
English to Spanish: Powers/Facultades General field: Law/Patents Detailed field: Law (general)
Source text - English Powers:
1. To file by public deed all resolutions adopted by the General Shareholders Meeting/Company’s Partners "--------" or, if applicable, by the sole proprietor exercising the powers conferred to the General Shareholders/Partners Meeting, as well as the decisions of the Board of Directors, granting to this end the required public or private documents to register such resolutions in the corresponding Commercial Registry, even signing rectifications, amendments, clarifications and modifications of minutes and deeds.
2. To represent the company before the Courts at all levels and jurisdictions, Ministries, Directorates-General, Provincial Offices, Trade Unions, Organisms and government officials from the Central, Provincial or Local administration (or from the administration of the Autonomous Communities), and sponsor, monitor and pursue claims, files, trials and lawsuits throughout all proceedings and events, accepting resolutions, withdrawing actions, filing claims and appeals, calling for the enforcement of judgments, and, in general, taking all the steps deemed appropriate for the company, even being allowed to respond to interrogatories before a judge.
3. To manage all kinds of goods and rights, freely setting the prices, rents, gifts, salaries, terms and other essential, natural or accidental conditions of the concluded acts and contracts; exercising and fulfilling, relinquishing and transferring as many rights and obligations derived from such acts and contracts, according to their nature. Particularly:
4. To open, sign and monitor telephone, electronic and postal correspondence, and collect letters, certificates, packages, samples, money orders, telegrams and registered valuables from post offices and other public or private offices.
5. To pursue claims for losses, deficiencies or damages and receive the corresponding compensations.
Translation - Spanish Facultades:
1. Elevar a instrumento público todos los acuerdos sociales adoptados por la Junta General de Accionistas/Socios de la Compañía “--------” o, en su caso, los formalizados por el socio único en competencias de Junta General de Accionistas/Socios, así como las decisiones del órgano de administración de la sociedad, y otorgando al efecto los documentos públicos y privados que fueren necesarios hasta obtener la inscripción de tales acuerdos en el Registro Mercantil correspondiente, suscribiendo incluso actas y escrituras de rectificación, subsanación, aclaración y modificación.
2. Llevar la representación de la sociedad ante toda clase de Juzgados y Tribunales de cualquier grado y jurisdicción, Ministerios y sus Direcciones Generales y Delegaciones Provinciales, Organizaciones Sindicales, Organismos y funcionarios de la Administración Central, Provincial o Municipal o de las Comunidades Autónomas, y, ante ellos, promover y seguir reclamaciones, expedientes, juicios y causas, por todos sus trámites e incidencias, consintiendo resoluciones, desistiendo de instancias, presentando recursos y apelaciones y pidiendo la ejecución de sentencias, y, en general, realizando ante dichos organismos todas las gestiones que estime convenientes para la sociedad, pudiendo absolver posiciones en confesión judicial.
3. Administrar toda clase de bienes y derechos de cualquier clase, fijando libremente los precios, rentas, mercedes, sueldos, plazos y demás condiciones, esenciales, naturales o accidentales de los actos y contratos que celebre, así como ejercitando y cumpliendo, cediendo y traspasando cuantos derechos y obligaciones deriven de tales actos y contratos de acuerdo con su naturaleza. En particular:
4. Abrir, seguir y firmar la correspondencia postal, telemática, y telefónica, formalizando, haciendo y retirando en oficinas de correos, o cualesquiera otras públicas o privadas, toda clase de cartas y certificados, paquetes, muestras, giros, telegramas y valores declarados.
5. Formular reclamaciones por pérdidas, mermas o averías y percibir las indemnizaciones correspondientes.
French to Catalan: El bigoti de Dalí General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Art, Arts & Crafts, Painting
Source text - French En 1953, Halsman perçoit dans la moustache grandissante de Salvador Dalí l’« occasion de pouvoir réaliser un de ses rêves les plus ambitieux : créer une œuvre extraordinairement excentrique ». L’artiste, très attaché à sa personne et à cet attribut qu’il qualifie lui-même de symbole du pouvoir de son imagination, est immédiatement séduit par l’idée. Halsman reprend son concept éditorial initié quatre ans plus tôt avec l’acteur français Fernandel pour créer un « picture book », proposant une interview photographique de Salvador Dalí : une question est posée à l’artiste sur une page, lequel répond à la page suivante sous forme d’une image photographique légendée.
Pour ce projet, il ne s’agit plus seulement d’une expression photographique mais d’une véritable miseen scène, associant le caractère théâtral de l’artiste et l’impressionnante inventivité ainsi que la technique de Halsman. Dalí signe la préface du livre et Halsman décrit leur processus créatif dans la postface. Ce dernier présente l’ouvrage comme une étroite collaboration entre eux, caractéristique de leur mutuelle compréhension, notamment dans la conception des questions et des réponses.
Pendant deux ans, au cours de plusieurs séances, Halsman photographie Dalí avec son Rolleiflex, sa chambre 4 × 5 et ses flashs électroniques pour réaliser ce projet. La plupart des planches du livre sont des portraits de l’artiste pris dans des positions variées et des jeux divers avec sa moustache, valorisés par des effets de lumière ou de cadrages.
Translation - Catalan L’any 1953, Halsman pensava que el bigoti creixent de Salvador Dalí li donaria “l’oportunitat per poder realitzar un dels seus somnis més ambiciosos: crear una obra extraordinàriament excèntrica”. A Dalí, tan lligat a la seva pròpia personalitat i a aquesta extensió de si mateix que qualifica de “símbol de poder de la seva imaginació”, la idea el sedueix. Halsman reprèn el concepte que va fer servir quatre anys enrere amb l’actor francès Fernandel, creant un picture book en el qual Halsman fa una entrevista fotogràfica a Salvador Dalí: en una pàgina una pregunta i a la pàgina següent la resposta en forma de fotografia amb un peu.
Per a aquest projecte, el que busca Halsman no és tan una expressió fotogràfica com una veritable escenografia que combini el caràcter teatral de Dalí amb la seva impressionant inventiva i capacitat tècnica. Dalí va redactar el pròleg del llibre i Halsman va descriure el procés creatiu a l’epíleg, en el qual presenta l’obra com una col·laboració producte de la comprensió mútua entre els dos artistes, especialment en la confecció de les preguntes i respostes.
Durant dos anys, i al llarg de múltiples sessions, Halsman va fotografiar Dalí amb la seva Rolleiflex de 4 × 5, amb flaixos electrònics. La majoria de plaques fotogràfiques són retrats de l’artista en posicions diverses, en els quals juga amb el seu bigoti, que ressalta gràcies a l’enquadrament i els efectes de llum.
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Years of experience: 9. Registered at ProZ.com: May 2017.
Graduate in Law and Master’s degree in Philosophy of Law.
Member of ACE Traductores and CEDRO.
In 2015, I decided to focus my professional career on freelance translation. Since then, I have mainly devoted my time to book (literature, cinema, art and social sciences), audiovisual, legal and e-Marketing translation. In 2018, I added subtitling to my portfolio of services, and in 2022 the translation of dialogue for dubbing.
My clients throughout these years include companies and institutions such as ZOO Digital/Disney +, Netflix/TVT Media, Prodigioso Volcán, La Saladeta, Tendencias TV, Gabinete Martínez Comín, Grupo RBA, Notorious Ediciones, Cult Books, Hatari! Books, Días Contados, Adesiara Editorial, Penguin Random House, Editorial La Fábrica, Fundació "la Caixa", Bresson Realty Barcelona, Laia Libros, LEO Université d’Orléans and Càtedra Ethos (URL). I have collaborated with most of them on a regular basis.
Every project is unique and requires absolute dedication to find the most appropriate linguistic solution, observing the confidentiality requirements when needed. Timely delivery is a must.
I firmly believe in lifelong learning; therefore, I regularly try to broaden my knowledge and complement my skills with courses and seminars.
I’ve lived in London, Prague, Montreal and Strasbourg.
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