Today’s prompt was something VERY new for me. I had to translate a poem in a language I don’t understand, without aid of translation. Instead, I was to use the form and sounds of the poem to guess the translation.
So I found a poem written in Polish by Ewa Lipska, called GDZIE INDZIEJ, and I gave it a shot. I included the different iterations of the poem until I reached a final version. When you’re done, compare my results to the actual translation and you’ll get quite the chuckle!
What do you think of my final result (in blue, below)?
Original Work by Ewa Lipska (In Polish):
Chciałabym mieszkać Gdzie Indziej.
W haftowanych ręcznie miasteczkach.
Spotykać się z tymi
którzy nie przychodzą na świat.
Bylibyśmy wreszcie szczęśliwie samotni.
Nie czekałby na nas ani jeden przystanek.
Żaden przyjazd. Żaden odjazd.
Przemijanie w muzeum.
Żadne wojny nie biłyby się o nas.
Żadna ludzkość. Żadne wojsko. Żadna broń.
Śmierć na rauszu. Byłoby wesoło.
W bibliotece wielotomowy czas.
Miłość. Nieprzytomny rozdział.
Przewracałaby nam szeptem kartki w sercach.
© 2003, Ewa Lipska
Publisher: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2003
Take 1: a complete guess on my part
Chocolate misery going inside
We have to want your receipt of mastercard
Spooky, see the time.
Story of paranoia and sweat.
Biblically wrestle seismic samoans.
Not crying, no not any swedish prisoner.
Laden prisoners, laden officers.
Probably a museum.
Laden women with a belly so full
laden luddites, laden worker, laden bear.
Smirk not racer, by lobby we solo
With biblical welcoming stars.
Miles. Not pretty tommy’s roaster.
Presumbably number seven cart with circus.
Take 2: Word cleanup
Escaping my misery, I’m going inside
With my receipt from my mastercard
Spooky, every time.
Stories of paranoia, I sweat.
Biblical warriors, superior soldiers.
None crying, nor taking someone prisoner
Wooden prisoners, wooden officers.
Posed in the museum.
Wooden women with a belly so full,
Wooden luddites, Wooden workers, Wooden bears.
Smile don’t run, in the lobby we walk
To the bookstore with welcoming signs.
Miles. Now partly to my register
Probably not seven carts were served
Take 3: Turn it into my own – final translation/guess
Discover What’s Inside
Escaping reality to find what’s inside
For Mastercard entry, a receipt I did find
Spooky when entered, every time.
Paranoia from stories, I sweat while in line.
Biblical warriors and soldiers superior
Ones that won’t cry, or be taken prisoner
Officers turned prisoners, in front sadly stood.
Posed in the museum, fashioned from wood.
Wives bearing children, also were found.
Along with some luddites, and workers beyond
Smile, don’t you run from this army, defeated.
Through lobby to bookstore, the signs entreated.
The line for the checkout was miles it seemed,
But my escape from reality bypassed that scene.
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