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).  
 

TEXTS FOR YOUR INDEPENDENT READING, TRANSLATION & ANALYSIS 4 страница - student2.ru

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 4 страница - student2.ru

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.

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