2008年4月6日 星期日

"譯場(su)報告" * On Translating *No.62, 2008年4月7日

"譯場(su)報告" * On Translating *
No.62, 2008
47日; 2008/1/28 創刊

Why would a parent want to kill their child?

04/04/2008

--The Asahi Shimbun, April 3(IHT/Asahi: April 4,2008)



這一篇讀起來心情相當沉重。 由於它有英文翻譯,讓我更了解練習翻譯者的”了解之問題”—譬如說文末說作者又拿起死者的日文詩來讀—因為英文-中文等翻譯,都無法將其”聲韻”道出。 Her belly is so bouncy that if a dwarf used it for a trampoline 處翻譯也有些問題....

练习翻译《天声人语》080403

參考:紫色字體是練習;藍色是該bbs之改正。

http://coffeejp.com/bbs/redirect.php?tid=201716&goto=lastpost

『荒城の月』の詩人、土井晩翠(どい ばんすい)が生まれた仙台市は毎年、東北を中心に小学生の詩を募る。「晩翠わかば賞」である。昨秋の第48回で佳作となった作品に「おかあさん」がある

【荒城的月】的作者,诗人土井晚翠的出生地仙台市每年都要募集以东北为中心的小学生的诗。那是【晚翠若叶赏】。去年秋天第48届的优秀作品中有一篇叫【妈妈】的作品。

==>《荒城之月》的作者,诗人土井晚翠的出生地,仙台市,每年都会举办以东北地区为中心的小学生诗歌比赛。即所谓的晚翠新叶奖。在去年秋天的第48届比赛中,有一篇获得佳作,题为《妈妈》的作品。

Every year, the city of Sendai holds a poetry contest for elementary school children in the Tohoku region and elsewhere.

The contest is named Bansui Wakaba (Young leaves) Award in honor of a native son, poet Doi Bansui (1871-1952) known for writing the lyrics to the song "Kojo no Tsuki" (Moon over a desolate castle).

A poem titled "Okasan" (Mother) was among the works that received an honorable mention at the 48th contest, held last fall.



〈おかあさんは/どこでもふわふわ/ほっぺはぷにょぷにょ/ふくらはぎはぽよぽよ/ふとももはぼよん/うではもちもち/おなかは小人さんが/トランポリ ンをしたら/とおくへとんでいくくらい/はずんでいる/おかあさんは/とってもやわらかい/ぼくがさわったら/あたたかい気もちいい/ベッドになってくれ る〉
"Mother is soft all over/ Her cheeks are supple/ Her calves are plumpish/ Her thighs are tubby/ Her arms are soft like rice cake/ Her belly is so bouncy that if a dwarf used it for a trampoline/ He would fly far away/ Mother is very soft/ When I touch her/ She is warm and makes me feel good/ She offers to serve as my bed."
〈妈妈啊/哪里都是软软的/脸蛋是嫩嫩的/腿肚子是松松的/大腿是肥肥的/手腕是粗粗的/肚子里有个小孩似的/跳一下蹦床/就像是要飞去远方/再弹回来/妈妈啊/非常的柔软/我轻轻的抚摸她/暖暖的很舒服/还会让我当床〉

きっとふくよかであろう、優しい母の笑顔が浮かんでくる。作者の西山拓海(たく・み)君はおととい、青森県八戸市(はちのへし)の家で9年の生を閉じた。電気コードで首を絞めたと認めた母親(30)が逮捕された

那肯定是一个胖嘟嘟的妈妈,脑子里浮现出一个温柔的母亲的笑脸。作者西山拓海君在前天,在青森县八户市的家里结束了9岁的生命。承认用电器线勒死儿子的母亲被逮捕了。

这样读起来,感觉不是很通顺。]
试译:这首诗的作者,西山拓海君前天死于其位于青森县八户市的家中,走完了他年仅9岁的人生。

Reading the poem, I can picture the kind, smiling face of the child's mother, who must be rather plump.

Takumi Nishiyama, who wrote the poem, was murdered Tuesday at his home in Hachinohe, Aomori Prefecture. He was 9. His mother, 30, who admitted to strangling him with an electric cord, was arrested.




何度も抱きしめてくれた「もちもちのうで」が、この朝は凶器だった。パジャマ姿で息絶えた子に、「おかあさん、なぜ?」と問う間はあるまい。詩にあふれる濃密なスキンシップとの落差に、言葉を失う

多少次抱起我的那【粗粗的的手腕】,这次却成了凶器。穿着睡衣气绝身亡的儿子,连问【妈妈,为什么?】的时间都没有。对于和诗中充满的浓浓的母子之情之间的落差,我无语。
==>成为凶器的不是手腕吧??
试译:多少次抱起孩子的「もちもちのうで」,这次却拿起了凶器。
句末的我无语确实有点。。。
试译:诗中所洋溢的浓厚的母子亲情同现实的巨大落差,让我无语凝噎/失去语言/无法言语。

Her "soft like rice cake" arms must have hugged the boy many times. But that morning, those arms turned into weapons. Apparently, the boy, who died in his pajamas, had no time to question, "Why, mom?"

I am speechless when I think about the gap between what she did and the close physical affection the boy described in the poem.


先月の修了式の日、楽しく語らい下校する親子の姿があったという。母は何を思い、わが子を手にかけたのか。最後の最後に、幼い言葉が刻む「肌の記憶」を呼び戻せなかったものか。あれこれ考えてはみても、胸が詰まるばかりだ

说是上个月的结业式的那天,有着愉快的谈笑着放学的母子的身影。母亲到底是怎么想的,亲手将自己的孩子杀死的呢。最后的最后,怎么会没能唤回刻画着年幼的话语的【肌肤的记忆】呢?左思右想,胸中憋闷,说不出话来。

According to a witness, the mother and son were seen going home together from school, chatting happily after the academic year's closing ceremony last month.

What went through the mother's mind when she strangled her son? In the end, couldn't she recall her son's "memories of physical contact" that he wrote about with so much affection? I feel tightness in my chest thinking about what went wrong.



ふわふわの感触とは相いれぬ、むごい現実にさらされる子は拓海君だけではない。早すぎる旅立ちに携える残像が、最愛の人の恐ろしい形相では悲しすぎる。おかあさん、おとうさん、ころさないで。そう念じて、いま一度、ひらがなの連なりをたどる。

和软软的触感相反,饱受凄惨的现实的孩子不只拓海君一个。让他过早去世的余象,最爱的人的恐怖形象太可怕了。妈妈,爸爸,不要杀我。祈祷,再次,让他回到这个和平假名联系着的国度。

==>首先,我认为这里的句子语法楼主没有搞清楚。
个人意见是:残像が、、、では、悲しすぎる。
、、、残像?若是最爱的人恐怖的样子,实在太让人悲哀

Takumi is not the only child to have been exposed to such a harsh reality. It is so unimaginably removed from the soft touch of parents.

If the last image children have before their young lives are taken away is that of the murderous look of those they love more than anyone else, nothing can be sadder.

Mother, father, please do not kill your child. Offering my prayers, I find myself once again going over the poem written in hiragana.

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