El modesto misterio

Rocio Rodriguez

Profesora Allen

Jetski Safari – Like a lie

CANCION EN INGLES

“Red lips on, live twitter feed,

Hashtag wherestheplacetobe.

Eat at home to save money,

Spend it all to make sure, I’m seen,

I’m seen.

Well I’m not sure why, but I think i’ll try,

To say something this time.

My imitation, of conversation,

Is sounding like a lie, a lie.

Leather on, check news feed,

Status update, ‘what to eat?’

Ten replies, only one elite,

Find me at the place to be.

Stand and stare, feign happy,

Sip my vodka soda drink.

Well I’m not sure why, but I think i’ll try,

To say something this time.

This imitation, of conversation,

Is sounding like a lie, a lie.

Nod the head to all the friends,

Got a quick update on tonight’s trends,

I have this opinion, to defend,

I’m not sure what it is, but let’s pretend.

I’m not sure why, but I think i’ll try,

To say something this time.

This imitation, of conversation,

Is sounding like a lie.

Got a quick update on tonight’s trends,

I have this opinion, to defend,

I’m not sure what it is, but let’s pretend.

Nod the head to all my friends,

I have this opinion, to defend.

A quick update on twitter trends,

I don’t know what this means but let’s pretend,

Let’s pretend, let’s pretend, let’s pretend.

I’m not sure why, but I think i’ll try,

To say something this time.

My imitation, of conversation,

It’s sounding like a lie.

TRADUCCION EN ESPANOL

Con labios rojos, vivo en twitter

Hashtag, dondeesellugarparaestar ?

Como en la casa para ahorrar dinero

Gastarlo todo para asegurarme de que me vean

Me vean

Bueno, No se muy bien por que?, pero lo intentare

Decir algo esta vez

Mi imitacion y conversacion

Esta sonando como una mentira, una mentira.

Con leder puesto, chequeo las nuevas noticias

Actualizo mi estado, que comer?

Diez respuestas, solo un elite

Encuentrame en el lugar donde estar.

Pararme y mirar fijamente, finjir felicidad,

Tomarme mi bebida vodka soda.

Bueno, no se por que?, pero lo intentare

Decir algoesta vez

Mi imitacion y conversation

Esta sonando como una mentira, una mentira.

Inclino mi cabeza a todos los amigos,

Tuve una rapida actualizacion en el atuendo de esta noche,

Tengo esta opinion que defender,

No estoy bien segura de lo que es, pero vamos a pretender.

Vamos a pretender! Vamos a pretender! Vamos a pretender!

No se muy bien por que?, pero lo intentare

Decir algo esta vez

Mi imitacion y conversacion

Esta sonando como una mentira, una mentira.

Octavo Día

El octavo día Dios después de tanto trabajar

Para liberar tensiones luego ya de revisar
Dijo todo esta muy bien es hora de descansar
Y se fue a dar un paseo por el espacio sideral

Quien se iba a imaginar que el mismo Dios al regresar
Iba a encontrarlo todo en un desorden infernal
Que se iba a convertir en un desempleado mas
De la tasa que anualmente esta creciendo sin parar

Desde ese entonces hay quienes lo han visto
Solo en las calles transitar
Anda esperando paciente por alguien
Con quien al menos tranquilo
Pueda conversar

Mientras tanto este mundo gira y gira sin poderlo detener
Y aquí abajo unos cuantos nos manejan
Como fichas de ajedrez
No soy la clase de idiota
Que se deja convencer
Pero digo la verdad
Y hasta un ciego lo puede ver

Si a falta de ocupación
O de excesiva soledad
Dios no resistiera mas
Y se marchara a otro lugar
Seria nuestra perdición
No habría otro remedio mas
Que adorar a Michael Jackson
A Bill Clinton o a Tarzan

Es mas dificil ser rey sin corona
Que una persona mas normal
Pobre de Dios que no sale en revistas
Que no es modelo ni artista o de familia real

Mientras tanto este mundo gira y gira
Sin poderlo detener
Y aqui abajo unos cuantos nos manejan
Como fichas de ajedrez
No soy la clase de idiota
Que se deja convencer
Pero digo la verdad
Y hasta un ciego lo puede ver

Mientras tanto este mundo gira y gira
Sin poderlo detener
Y aqui abajo unos cuantos nos manejan
Como fichas de ajedrez
No soy la clase de idiota
Que se deja convencer
Pero digo la verdad
Y hasta un ciego lo puede ver

The Eight Day

After all of his hard work, on the 8^th day God

Reviewed his work to relieve tension

He said “everything is good. It’s time to rest.”

Then he took a stroll through the universe

 

Who would have thought , God himself, upon his return

Would find everything in such disorder and chaos

And that He would be another among the unemployed

In the cup that annually grows with no end

 

Since then many have seen him

Strolling alone in the streets

He waits patiently for someone

With whom to at least chat with

 

In the meantime this world

Spins and spins endlessly

And down here there are those who move

Us around like pieces in a chess game

I’m not the kind of idiot to allow herself to be convinced

But I do speak the truth

Even a blind person could see

 

With no job or because of excessive lonliness

God couldn’t stand it anymore

And moved on to other places

It would be our loss

We would have no alternative

But to worship Michael Jackson Bill Clinton, or even Tarzan

 

It’s harder to be a king with no crown

Then a regular normal person

Poor God. He’s never featured in magazines

He’s not a model or artist, or of a real family

 

In the meantime this world spins and spins endlessly

And down here there are those who move

Us around like pieces in a chess game

I’m not the kind of idiot

To allow herself to be convinced

But I do speak truth

Even a blind person could see

 

In the meantime this world spins and spins endlessly

And down here there are those who move

Us around like pieces in a chess game

I’m not the kind of idiot

To allow herself to be convinced

But I do speak truth

Even a blind person could see

Voy a interpretar un poema de Pablo Neruda que se llama ” Solo La Muerte”

Las traducciones seran por: Mark Eisner y Ben
Belitt

 

The poem Always by Pablo Neruda.

I will be analyzing Ephesians 6 from two different Spanish translations , La Biblia Latinoamericana and Reina Valera

I will be comparing the translations between Arturo Sánchez y Federico Revilla (1974), and the version from Carlos Obligado 2004.

Para el proyecto del midterm decidi esocger a Pablo Nerudo como autor original del poema: “No hay olvido (sonata)” el cual estare comparando con el lenguaje ingles por dos traductores diferentes, Ben Belitt y Forrest Gander. Mi objetivo es comparar y analizar cada traduccion para dar a conocer las distintas maneras en las que se pueden variar las palabras y frases y como cada traductor tiene su propia manera unica y autentica de llevar a cabo un proyevto.

Here’s a link to the short film about women in La Patrona, Veracruz who give food to those heading north on the train.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7kbiG20ugc

AUTHOR

Guillermo Osorno

 Salvadoran still unidentified

Nobody knows his name. If it matters, but it does not matter. Better I will tell you what I think.  I think he is dead, that’s for sure. I think the hardest part is over. This is also  sure.  Although it was something that he was repeating along the way. He did not know that things could get worse. I think at one point he had to walk barefoot. I think he was mugged at gunpoint on a train before he gets at  Oaxaca. I think his life in El Salvador was not good. I think the  La Mala Salvatrucha killed  his brother or some other relative. I think he went to the  United States to meet with a family member, to see If they wanted  him. I think someone told him on the road that he was kidnapped by police officers and that they have asked for money  his relatives from the United States for money. And then the officers hit that someone, released him and he end up at a shelter,where the two met.I think he did not know what to say. I think he and the other people who died in Tamaulipas were grabbed to ask for money. I think when he had the blindfold, before he was shot, he remembered that he drank water from puddles and begged to eat.

Translated by Ruth Morocho

Miguel Ángel Carcamo

I learned about Miguel Ángel Cárcamo when he was already dead. I understood a part of his story, because like almost every Mexican, I have friends and relatives who are immigrants. Forty years ago, Miguel Ángel was born in El Guante, a town of Cedros, a municipality of the Francisco Morazán State (Honduras). He was accustomed to seeing that only those who had gone north could escape poverty. Thus, aside from the temporary jobs he was working, he managed to gather $150 and headed for the United States. He left with two of his brothers-in law and little after entering Mexico the officers arrested him to deport him. He tried to cross again, and days after, he was murdered in Tamaulipas. He left four kids behind: Petrona, 16; Angel Rogelio, 13; Jessica, 5 and Luis Miguel, 3 years old. On Thursday September 2^nd 2010, his wife Marleny Suárez, 34, whom he had married two decades ago, led the wake in her house and the funerals at the community cemetery of El Guante. Miguel Ángel’s grave is now next to his mother’s grave who passed away a little more than 20 years ago. And I am filled with outrage and shame, because in my country the Zeta took  his life away and also ruined his family’s .

Victor Núñez Jaime.

Translated by Fathia Ben Tahar