TEXTS FOR YOUR INDEPENDENT READING, TRANSLATION & ANALYSIS 4 страница
Exercise 3. Read and transcribe the following poem by Carol Levin. Translate it. Repeat new words over and over. Accuracy first, the speed! Make a recording of the way you sound as you begin your studies, and then make a comparison, recording every six to twelve months:
Dibs On Summer ‘68
But then
An age sage gets to the newsstands
before me. His book Boom makes a splash
in television and lecture venues.
Heretofore
I’ve trumpeted my personal sixties unseasoned
polyphonic trope, stimulated now I accelerate
the midwifeing.
Boom
recounts struggles of Thomas Gilmore,
Stokley Carmichael and Dr. King,
courageous freedom fighters
for blacks facing
raciest red necks. I tender a tale, believe it
or not,
of Christina, my lovers fiancee,
lured to a bogus convent on a remote
isle in the Aegean, dressed in black
held captive behind fifteen foot walls
painted pink. I think she’s still there.
All before
many people alive today
were even born. Old news
akin to spume on ocean waves crashes
and drains
as the next breaker flaunts
its pizzaz.
Boom.
Unseasoned my
unfinished narrative is my estuary typed
in black on a remote manuscript, A David
facing Goliath struggling to be freed.
(Boom, Tom Brokaw. Random House 2007
Exercise 4. Discuss the poem with your group-mate. Remember that you are not in competition with anyone, and that you will progress at your own rate.
Exercise 5. Decode a modern song you have never heard before, translate and transcribe every line. Write down the unknown words into your dictionary. Use them in sentences of your own.
Exercise 6.Tell about the song decoded. Discuss the transcription. Try to persuade the audience that the text transcribing deserves their attention. Speak with distinctness. Use the Intonation patterns in accordance with the emotions conveyed by the author.
Exercise 7. Write down the questions of the listeners. Answer them. Work for precision with a minimum of tension. After you have accurately mastered the phrases for clarity, work for speed in repetition.
Exercise 8. Imagine you are aboard the ship. Consult the dictionary and find the terms which name the parts of the ship. Repeat them for clarity of articulation.
Exercise 9. You have received a letter from an unknown person. Express your feelings. Use the Intonation patterns in accordance with your emotions (doubt, reproach, uncertainty, hurt feelings etc).
Exercise 10. Describe the ideal teacher of phonetics. Speak on the appearance, skills, manners etc. Prove your position. Use some proverbs, sayings, idioms, and tongue-twisters. Mind your pronunciation.
Exercise 11. Read, translate and transcribe the following poem by American poet Carol Levin from the collection “Place one foot here”. Write down all unknown words into your dictionary. Use them in sentences of your own:
The Imagination Is A Threat
“Every secret has its little casket”
Gaston Bachelard
Dear ones, the pads of my fingers dust
your girlish curlicues in cursive on fading
picture-post-cards Grandma saved. Writing side
of the glossy Chistofro Columbo slicing blue waves:
“now in the Mediteranian
have gone on tours of Portagal, Spain, Naples & Pompei”
and your boyish, although teensy printingon a photo of Athens.
“I am looking at the Acroplis and on the end of it it looks
like a face has nose and eyes and a mouth”.
I squint myself into your eight and ten year old eyes to conger
the size of your ocean, markets, mosques and crumbling walls
percieved decamping country after country bored but good.
Dear ones, that was before the isolated island, again, you ask about.
Before lies to the provincial Bishop, monolithic in robes,
who appeared before tempers swelled. You have a right
to ask what happened when the glass started flying
and jeers and taunts in Greek flew at us and we packed
you up and ran away and didn’t talk about it.
Dear ones, I’m at a loss to answer what happened. I know
you want to know. For years I’ve held, like tightly curled fronds
hidden in old foliage--a story. Meditation and reflection
didn’t prevail. Exaggeration and turbulence is always
the summit of intensity spurting an unlovely typhoon
of personal mythology. Don’t talk about it
to your children they won’t understand. It wasn’t
as big as you remember. Just a little tiff you’ve unfolded
into a monster. Other answers are better buried.
Appendix
| Exercise 1. Watch the film in Russian. Read the script. Be ready to tone the film in English. DRAMA on the short story by Anton P. Chekhov |
| Script and production by Herman Livanov |
| Director of photography Mark Volynetz |
| Sound V. Nactinas |
| Editor A. Soboleva |
| Recording mixer L. Akimov |
| Director assistant L. Nezelskaya |
| Production coordinator V. Shafran |
| Characters: |
| Murashkina - Faina Renevskaya |
| Pavel Vassilievich - Boris Tenin |
| Production of Central TV Studio, Moscow 1960. |
| English version: Laura Akhmilovski & Andriana Barysh. |
| Translation Editor - Carol Levin |
| (voice) Five arshins of tape, pound of cheese a-a-and tooth powder. That's it. I still have an hour before I leave to go to my country house, enough time for a nap. |
| (the writing on the cushions under his feet: From an admirer. Falls asleep. SERVANT: Pavel Vassilich! Pavel Vassilich! There is a lady here. She is asking about you. She’s been waiting an hour or so. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Hmm…What in the hell! Tell her I’m busy. |
| SERVANT: Well, Pavel Vassilich! she’s came five times before She says she really needs to see you. She is on the brink of tears. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Well…Let her into my study. |
| SERVANT: Pavel Vassilich please put this on (helps him into his jacket ) |
| MURASHKINA: Of course you don't remember me. It was my pleasure to meet you at the Kurdski's. I…I…am M-Murashkina. Yes… |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: (puzzled) Please have a seat. |
| MURASHKINA: Mercie. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: What can I do for you? |
| MURASHKINA: You see I am Murashkina…Murashkina, I am…I am a great admirer of your talent. I always enjoy your articles. Don't think that I am flattering you. I read you constantly. I myself know what it’s like to be an author. It is not alien to me. Well of course I dare not call myself a writer and yet. My drop of honey has been added to the honey-hive. I have within a certain time published my three short stories for children … then and there. I’ve often done translation and my late brother worked for "Delo" … democratic magazine. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: How can I help you? |
| MURASHKINA: I know your talent, your views, Pavel Vassilich. I would like to know your opinion. To put it accurately, I would like to ask your advice…I must say…pardon pour l'expression, excuse my expression, I was bearing a baby…I have delivered a …drama, yes! Drama. And before I send it to the censors, Pavel Vassilich, I would like to know your opinion. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: All right! Leave it here. I will read it! |
| MURASHKINA: Pavel Vassilich, I know you’re busy. I know how you value every minute. And I know that deep in your heart you are now telling me to go to hell! But will you be so kind as to let me read my drama for you now. Will you be nice.? PAVEL VASSILICH: I would love to, But now, madam I’m so..very busy. I am leaving now… |
| MURASHKINA: Pavel Vassilich, I am at your mercy. Be generous! Tomorrow I’m leaving for Kazan, so I would like to know your opinion today. Will you give me a gift! Just half an hour of your attention. Only half an hour, Pavel Vassilich, I pray! I pray!! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH (brings her to the sofa and helps her sit down) Half an hour. Well, I am ready to listen to you! |
| MURASHKINA: Half an hour, dear Pavel Vassilich. “Drama in two acts with prologue and epilogue” "What were the nightingales singing about?" Characters: Landowner Shepcherygin, 60 years old. His views are conservative. His face shows importance. His sister Concordia Ivanovna, 65 years old, manifests mementos of her former beauty, her manners are aristocratic. Drinks vodka. His daughter Anna Sergeievna, 35 years old, suffers because she is a virgin… Valentin, student, 40 years old, generous, helps his ill father. Zigzagovski, landowner, rich, corrupted, product of his time. Pertukarski, telegraphist, 55 years old, bastard. Kuchkin, judge, scoundrel, but generally speaking, an honest man. Vodyankin, merchant. His left hand is limp. Never appears on stage. Pronskaya, princess, comma. 75 years old. Has sticky fingers. Sylvester, valet. Feklusha, maid - old servants. Have intimate relationship. Perigaev - retired colonel. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: What a hell you have brought! |
| MURASHKINA:…with a dog. Never appears on stage. Baron fon Shputzen, an old bachelor. Has an adult daughter. His daughter Caleria, 50 years old. shows traces of her former beauty. Dressed in a narrow silk blouse. Men and women of the settlement. Men and women dwellers Act 1. A luxurious parlour at Shepcherygins house. Antique expensive meuble furniture stands surrounded on either side by portraits of ancestors. Autumn faded flowers are in the vases. The valet and the maid are dusting the luxurious sitting room The valet: the master is mad at the young miss! He was so angry with his daughter yesterday that he did not come down for lunch. She has spent all her inheritance to build the school and the hospital in the village. The valet exits. Feklusha alone: those are well, who have learnt all sciences. They fair say: live and learn. Pause. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Why should I listen to this nonsense of yours? Am I to blame that you have written this drama. |
| MURASHKINA: Enter Anna. She is pale and gorgeous. Anna: Feklusha give me valerian drops. I have not slept all night. Pause. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: My God. The notebook is so Thick! What torture! |
| MURASHKINA: Scene seven. Anna alone. I have been thinking of Valentine all night. What a noble man! He’s the son of a poor teacher and he helps his ill parent absolutely gratis otherwise he would be able to have a brilliant career! Scene nine. Pause. Enter Feklusha. She is pale. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: My wife has ordered to me to buy… and bring to the country house. |
| MURASHKINA: Dear miss! Dear miss! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: …to bring to the country house five arshins of tape, a pound of cheese and… |
| MURASHKINA: Anna: here he is! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: and… |
| MURASHKINA: Be quick! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: and …some tooth powder. |
| MURASHKINA: Scene ten. Why? Anna: Now we must have a talk. Where is the happiness that you promised me! Forgive me, Pavel Vassilich, this is private! This is from my biography…Oh my God! Scene twelve. Pause. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: I must not lose the sample of broadcloth. Where have I put it? Probably is in my blue jacket. |
| MURASHKINA: Valentin getting pale: I am not able to think rationally. I don’t know my ambition in this life. Doubts and lack of self-confidence have deprived my soul of peace. Where? What is my credo? And yet…I must… |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Dirty flies! They had their time to spatter my wife’s portrait! Now I must order the servant…I must order Olga to wash it. |
| …it is a hard burden for my fragile shoulders… Valentin has gotten pale. Anna has gotten pale: I love him! I love him more than life. Baron Shputzen: Anna Sergeievna you forget that your love is destroying your father! Anna looks at Valentin. How pale he is! Valentin getting pale: I cannot think rationally. I have no goal in my life. Doubts, lack of self-confidence have worn my soul. Where? What is my credo? Pavel Vassilich, don’t you think that this monologue of Valentin’S is a little bit longer, than it should be? |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: No! Not at all! It’s very nice. |
| MURASHKINA: Oh, you are so very kind! Just so very kind! Oh, how happy I am! Anna is looking lovingly at Valentin. Valentin getting pale: Yes! But these relationships of ours are not supposed to be continued! Ah! Forgive my tears Pavel Vassilievich…a-a-ah! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Is it really possible in these dog days that such a pretty belly-mountain is so inspired? |
| Murashkina: Valentin! Oh, I am sorry! Pavel Vassilievich…a-a-ah! This is again a very private moment. This is from my life. Anna has gotten pale: you are focused on the analysis! You have stopped living in your heart. You are young enough but you don’t believe your feelings. You trust your head. Valentin getting pale: what is heart? This is a notion of anatomy. Certain conditional terms define feelings. I don’t acknowledge it. Valentin is laughing sardonically. A-ha-ha! Anna has gotten pale. She is embarrassed: and love? Is love just a product of associations and ideas? Pavel Vassilich: you’d better forget playwriting…you’d better eat cold kvas soup and nap at the basement door. |
| MURASHKINA: Anna…she has gotten pale: Say truthfully. Have you ever loved someone? Valentin: Don’t salt my wounds! They still hurt. Anna…she has gotten pale: Silence! Valentin making an aside: How pale she is! We must have a frank talk, Valentin! Where is the happiness you promised me? Valentin says to her: What are you thinking about? It seems to me that you are unhappy? A-a-ah! Forgive my tears Pavel Vassilievich…a-a-ah! This moment is also from my biography. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Is it going to have an end? |
| MURASHKINA: He is generously supporting his ill father. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Oh. My God! If this torture lasts ten minutes more, I will cry for a help! |
| MURASHKINA: Here he is! Let him in immediately! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: This is unbearable! |
| MURASHKINA: Sylvester: they are together again! Oh, it’s bad luck! She has refused such a man. Such a gentleman! Yes! Gentleman of the Emperor’s bed-chamber…She has refused mister Lyarlyarski. Curtain. Act two. Stage set is a village lane. There is the school to the right and the hospital to the left. Villagers siton the stairs. They are singing: On Saturday…Nasty weather…One can’t go…one can’t go to the fi-i-ield! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: How many acts are there all in all? |
| MURASHKINA: Five! Scene one. Enter Valentin. He is pale. You called me, Anna? Why? Anna: Don’t make me explain the reason. Pause. Anna. You cannot leave! Valenting, embracing Anna: You have raised me from the dead! You have shown me the way! You have refreshed me as spring rain refreshes the awakening soil. But late! Too late! The incurable disease is worming its way into my chest! Valentin is crying. Anna is crying. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Haven’t I taken my salt! What am I talking about? Yes, about my salt. It’s very likely that…I have catarrh of the stomach. |
| MURASHKINA: Scene eleven. The same, Baron Shputzen, district police officer, witnesses. Valentin has become pale: Take me! Anna: Take me! I belong to him! I will follow him. Take me with him! I love him! I love him more than my life. |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: Some birds seem to be sitting on the window-sill. A sparrow! |
| MURASHKINA: I love him more than my life. District police officer and witnesses have seized Valentin. He is trying hard to get out of the tenacious hands of the limbs of law. Valentin: Let me go! Anna gets pale: Take me! Leave him alone! Valentin: There is no force that could separate us! Valentin gets pale. Valentin is looking through the school window. One can see the villagers carrying their goods. Valentin: Let me leave! Anna gets pale. What is going on here? Anna Sergeievna! What are you doing to your elderly parent? She instilled in me in a great and infinite love! She instilled in me unlimited happiness! Scene twenty. Comma. What is going on here? Baron Shputzen: Anna Sergeievna! What are you doing to your elderly father? You keep forgetting that you destroy him! You will kill him so! You will kill! I cannot stand it anymore! I need some fresh air! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: A-a-ah!! |
| MURASHKINA: Valentin is holding Anna in his arms. She is weeping. O-ho-ho! Valentin is laughing sardonically. Valentin has gotten pale: I must leave. A-a-ah! |
| PAVEL VASSILICH: (hits Murashkina) Arrest meI have killed her! Music. Voice: The Jury acquitted him. THE END. |
| Exercise 2. Speak on the drawing by Althea Hucari. Express your attitude towards translator’s activities. Use more adjectives to characterize professional qualities of translator. Use the Intonation patterns in accordance with your emotions (doubt, reproach, uncertainty, hurt feelings etc). |
Exercise 3.Speak on the drawings by Mikhail Eydus. Give your commentary as if you were a) a guide at the Art Museum; b) an art critic; c) a journalist; d) a teacher of art; e) a producer; f) owner of the Art Gallery .Give it your title. Explain your choice. Use the Intonation patterns in accordance with your emotions (doubt, reproach, uncertainty, hurt feelings etc).
TEXTS FOR YOUR INDEPENDENT READING, TRANSLATION & ANALYSIS
From the book “Red rooms and others” by C. Levin
Sideducking Your Question
How odd I don’t paint the house in words. You love art and are eager
to see. I should show how the roof slopes like a fairytale house and now
we've built bay windows in every room where swans
etched in the panes are flying. Why in the world don’t I explain how
the bed in the bay on the main floor is a bed for you. Fits you
like the story of the three bears, just right!
How odd I don’t use my breath to portray the park on our street
where lovers & mothers & joggers repose above
the magnitude of Puget Sound, distant Olympic peaks, yellow roses.
Odd I don’t expound on the sidewalk flow of dog walkers & laughing
babies in strollers, show you the water bowl on our front lawn
where the word woof ispaintedin blue, where birds sip & bathe
& pups lap loose-lipped & grinning.
Details unspoken, I restrict myself to neighborhood houses &
the year we were built. Keep to myself the thousands of dollars
in property tax taxing the view, swallow my tongue like a premonition,
knowing you make do a continent away, reading scrunched-up
at your one window that barely bumps out the dark of your two little rooms.
Family Game
Little sister: cover your eyes
and memorize what I say.
I will tell you right off it is a kitchen filled
with the honey glow of cherry wood.
You should know the floor is gray tile,
the floor and wood are reflected
in the ceiling that is a mirror.
Mirrors defy boundaries, amplify infinity.
Step in. On your right at the threshold is the edge
of the white Corian counter above
a swing-out odd shaped shelf offering
peppers, vinegars, oils, and herbs.
On your left another swath of counter
is cluttered with life’s daily cups.
Keep eyes closed, slowly press your palm
against the counter
feel that it’s as cold
as our mother who used to cook here,
who chose to not bring to term her second child.
Listen, the autumn-red tree scrapes
the window, a Steller’s Jay repeats
as if his pitch black peak and body
of bright blue weren’t raucous enough.
His raspy laugh curdles a nerve.
I’m sure he laughs at me,
sees I am playing blind-mans-bluff
by myself, understands
no sister is reflected in this room,
knows I’ve been pretending
you, my best friend, in silence and forever.
Irresistible
Rain drops rest
faceted by streetlight
symmetrical, glistening
and graceful on the
Flowering Plum limb,
long,
wintered and bare.
Repeatedly
they lure, through the night
kitchen window,
my eye.
Rooms
The whole bedroom laughs, red walls undulate.
Chandelier prisms catch
and flick morning sun hysterically about. Windows
clap panes with glee, fling their shutter-mouths
wide to suck-in the pleasure of spring.
Even the bed
is a room whose boundaries invite me to compose
my body. As my body’s ten trillion cells stir,
each cell is also a complete room
enclosed by a semi-permeable membrane.
This morning the cells are drunk on the dream’s wisecracks,
a good way to enter a day, laughing.
The day itself
is a room
surrounded by shifting walls of dark.
Answering Machine
Black leather chairs swivel
as your voice bursts
into the room where only
the paintings smile back.
Lights are off
we are not at home--
Groggy, after midnight
we receive your gift--
affection translated
from the telephone tape turning
on the machine we
whirl and re-whirl to saturate
our senses, soak in
your sweet sound.
Your contralto lights
the air, palpitates
off the window
lilting along the
arm of the couch,
we fold our fingers
as if to touch
that familiar cadence--
Your favorite black dog
lifts his heavy ears looks to find you.
He will never
know how far
Far Eastern Russia is.