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French to Portuguese: Script of the play "D'autres, les autres" by Stéphane Fleury General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Cinema, Film, TV, Drama
Source text - French « D ' A U T R E S , L E S A U T R E S »
PAR STÉPHANE FLEURY
SUR LE PALIER DE
VOTRE VOISIN DU DESSUS
Vous
Bonjour
Le voisin
Bonjour oui, qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?
Vous (vous tendez le bras vers ses pieds)
Je suis votre voisin du dessous. La nuit dernière...
Le voisin
Je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance, je bossais.
Vous
Oui moi, aussi. Enfin, je suis moi aussi enchanté. Vous avez remarqué combien cet immeuble est ancien, combien les murs et les planchers sont fins ?
Le voisin
En effet oui, il a beaucoup de charme. Ah, c’est ça, est-ce que j'—
Vous
Non, non. Enfin je veux dire que je peux vous entendre marcher, mais j’ai l’habitude. Pourtant vous faites sacrément de bruits pour un garçon aussi fin.
Le voisin (sarcastique)
Vous voudriez que je marche avec plus de douceur peut-être ?
Vous
Je vous ai vu pas loin hier ou avant hier avec cette jeune fille, avec une fourrure sur le dos.
Le voisin
Oui, Denise. Nous sommes ensemble depuis quelques mois.
Translation - Portuguese "OUTROS, OS OUTROS"
POR STEVEN FLEURY
NO ANDAR DO SEU VIZINHO DE CIMA
Você
Olá
O vizinho
Olá, sim, o que se passa ?
Você (estenda o seu braço en direção aos pés do vizinho)
Eu sou o seu vizinho de abaixo. Ontem à noite ...
O vizinho
Estou encantado em conhecê-lo, eu estava trabalhando.
Você
Sim, eu também. Quero dizer, também estou encantado. Já notou quantos este edifício é antigo, quanto as paredes e os pisos são delgados ?
O vizinho
Na verdade sim, ele tem muito charme. Ah, é isso, eu fiz --
Você
Não, não. Quero dizer que eu posso ouvi-lo caminhar, mas eu estou acostumado. Contudo, você faz muito barulho para um menino tão fino.
O vizinho (sarcástico)
Você gostaria que eu ande com mais ligeireza, talvez?
Você
Eu o vi cerca daqui ontem com essa jovem, com uma pele en cima das costas.
O vizinho
Sim, Denise. Estamos juntos há alguns meses.
English to Portuguese: A RESUMED IDENTITY by Ambrose Bierce General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English 1: The Review as a Form of Welcome
ONE summer night a man stood on a low hill overlooking a wide expanse of forest and field. By the full moon hanging low in the west he knew what he might not have known otherwise: that it was near the hour of dawn. A light mist lay along the earth, partly veiling the lower features of the landscape, but above it the taller trees showed in well- defined masses against a clear sky. Two or three farmhouses were visible through the haze, but in none of them, naturally, was a light.
Nowhere, in- deed, was any sign or suggestion of life except the barking of a distant dog, which, repeated with mechanical iteration, served rather to accentuate than dispel the loneliness of the scene.
The man looked curiously about him on all sides, as one who among familiar surroundings is unable to determine his exact place and part in the scheme of things. It is so, perhaps, that we shall act when, risen from the dead, we await the call to judgment.
A hundred yards away was a straight road, show- ing white in the moonlight. Endeavouring to orient himself, as a surveyor or navigator might say, the man moved his eyes slowly along its visible length and at a distance of a quarter-mile to the south of his station saw, dim and grey in the haze, a group of horsemen riding to the north. Behind them were men afoot, marching in column, with dimly gleaming rifles aslant above their shoulders. They moved slowly and in silence. Another group of horsemen, another regiment of infantry, another and another --all in unceasing motion toward the man's point of view, past it, and beyond. A battery of artillery followed, the cannoneers riding with folded arms on limber and caisson. And still the interminable procession came out of the obscurity to south and passed into the obscurity to north, with never a sound of voice, nor hoof, nor wheel.
(extract)
www.world-english.org
Translation - Portuguese 1: O comentário como uma forma de boas-vindas
Uma noite de verão um homem se encontrava numa colina com vista para uma floresta e campo extendidos. Pela lua cheia supendida baixa no oeste, ele soube o que não poderia ter compreedido de outra maneira: que era perto da hora da madrugada. Uma névoa de luz jazia juntamente á terra, dissimulando as características baixas da paisagem, mas acima das árvores mais altas mostraram-se massas bem definidas contra um céu claro. Dois ou três quintas eram visíveis através da névoa, mas em nenhumas delas, naturalmente, havia luz.
De facto, em nenhum lugar havia qualquer sinal ou sugestão de vida, excepto o latido de um cão distante, o qual, repetido com iteração mecânica, acenuou em vez de dissipar a solidão da cena.
O homem olhou com curiosidade á sua cerca em todos os lados, como alguém que num ambiente familiar não é capaz de determinar seu lugar exacto e o seu papel no esquema das coisas. É assim, talvez, que devemos agir quando, ressuscitado dentre os mortos, aguardamos a chamada para o julgamento.
A cem metros de distância estava uma estrada reta, mostrando-se branca na luar. Esforçando-se para orientar-se, como um agrimensor ou navegador como se poderia dizer, o homem moveu seus olhos lentamente ao longo da parte visível e numa distância de um quarto de milha a sul da sua posição viu, fraco e cinzento na neblina, um grupo de cavaleiros dirigidos para o norte. Atrás deles estavam os homens a pé, marchando em coluna, com rifles vagamente brilhantes pousadas obliquamente acima dos seus ombros. Moviam-se devagar e em silêncio. Outro grupo de cavaleiros, outro regimento de infantária, outro e outro - tudo em movimento incessante em direção ao ponto de vista do homem, ultrapassando-o, e além. A bateria de artilharia seguiu, os artilheiros montados nos cavalos com os braços cruzados no ofre carregando munições. E ainda a procissão interminável saiu a obscuridade no sul e passou para a obscuridade para o norte, sem nunca um som de voz, nem tamanco, nem roda.
(extracto)
www.world-english.org
English to Portuguese: Safe Cosmetic Party General field: Other Detailed field: Cosmetics, Beauty
Source text - English « Do-It-Yourself » Recipes
Show your face, your feet or your muscles some love with safe, natural, toxin-free spa concoctions and personal care products.
We’ve compiled some of our favorite safe cosmetics recipes below. Test these recipes out at your very own « Safe Cosmetics Party ». If you have a favorite recipe of your own, e-mail us! We’d love to try it out and share with others.
Getting Started
The necessary ingredients are usually affordable and not hard to find in organic or natural form. The benefits of making your own cosmetics will be immediately evident: your new products will smell and feel good, and so will your skin.
There are no preservatives in these recipes so take a few precautions to avoid contamination by bacteria. Avoid touching products like lip gloss with your fingers – instead use a cotton swab to apply. Use products within two weeks, and consider storing them in your refrigerator. Also, exercise caution if you think you might be allergic to ingredients like herbs, nuts, avocados or other common food ingredients.
Since some ingredients, such as oils and natural coloring can stain, protect your work surfaces and clothes, and patch test skin accordingly.
Please take photos at your Safe Cosmetics party and share them with us on Facebook or at [email protected].
Translation - Portuguese Receitas “faça você mesmo!”
Mostre um pouco de amor ao seu rosto, seus pés ou seus músculos com produtos de beleza seguros, naturais e livres de toxinas.
Reunimos algumas das nossas receitas de cosméticos favoritas. Pode experimentar estas receitas na sua reunião “Cosméticos Seguros”. Se você tiver uma receita própria favorita, pode transmiti-la por e-mail ! Gostaríamos muito de experimentá-la e compartilhar com os outros.
Introdução
Os ingredientes necessários são geralmente acessíveis e não é difícil de os encontrar sob forma orgânica ou natural. Os benefícios de fabricar os seus próprios cosméticos será imediatamente evidente: os novos produtos vão cheirar e fazer sentir-se bem, assim que a sua pele.
As receitas que seguem não utilizam conservantes, assim que tem que tomar algumas precauções para evitar a contaminação por bactérias. Evite tocar em produtos como o gloss com os dedos – use em vez um cotonoete para a sua aplicação. Use os produtos elaborados dentro de duas semanas, e considere armazená-los no seu frigorífico. Além disso, use precaução se você tem tendência a ser alérgico a ingredientes como ervas, nozes, abacate ou outros ingredientes alimentares comuns.
Como alguns ingredientes como óleos e corantes naturais podem manchar, protege as suas superfícies de trabalho e roupas, e teste a sua pele em conformidade com os differentes ingredientes usados.
Por favor, tirar fotos em sua festa de cosméticos seguros e compartilhá-los conosco no Facebook ou no [email protected].
English to French: The Idiots by Joseph Conrad General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English The Idiots by Joseph Conrad
We were driving along the road from Treguier to Kervanda. We passed at a smart trot between the hedges topping an earth wall on each side of the road; then at the foot of the steep ascent before Ploumar the horse dropped into a walk, and the driver jumped down heavily from the box. He flicked his whip and climbed the incline, stepping clumsily uphill by the side of the carriage, one hand on the footboard, his eyes on the ground. After a while he lifted his head, pointed up the road with the end of the whip, and said--
"The idiot!"
The sun was shining violently upon the undulating surface of the land. The rises were topped by clumps of meagre trees, with their branches showing high on the sky as if they had been perched upon stilts. The small fields, cut up by hedges and stone walls that zig-zagged over the slopes, lay in rectangular patches of vivid greens and yellows, resembling the unskilful daubs of a naive picture. And the landscape was divided in two by the white streak of a road stretching in long loops far away, like a river of dust crawling out of the hills on its way to the sea.
"Here he is," said the driver, again.
In the long grass bordering the road a face glided past the carriage at the level of the wheels as we drove slowly by. The imbecile face was red, and the bullet head with close-cropped hair seemed to lie alone, its chin in the dust. The body was lost in the bushes growing thick along the bottom of the deep ditch.
It was a boy's face. He might have been sixteen, judging from the size--perhaps less, perhaps more. Such creatures are forgotten by time, and live untouched by years till death gathers them up into its compassionate bosom; the faithful death that never forgets in the press of work the most insignificant of its children.
"Ah! there's another," said the man, with a certain satisfaction in his tone, as if he had caught sight of something expected.
There was another. That one stood nearly in the middle of the road in the blaze of sunshine at the end of his own short shadow. And he stood with hands pushed into the opposite sleeves of his long coat, his head sunk between the shoulders, all hunched up in the flood of heat. From a distance he had the aspect of one suffering from intense cold.
"Those are twins," explained the driver.
The idiot shuffled two paces out of the way and looked at us over his shoulder when we brushed past him. The glance was unseeing and staring, a fascinated glance; but he did not turn to look after us. Probably the image passed before the eyes without leaving any trace on the misshapen brain of the creature. When we had topped the ascent I looked over the hood. He stood in the road just where we had left him.
The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
(extract)
www.world-english.org
Translation - French Les Idiots de Joseph Conrad
Nous conduisions le long de la route de Tréguier à Kervanda. Nous sommes passés au grand trot, entre les haies garnissant un mur de terre de chaque côté de la route; puis au pied de la montée raide avant Ploumar le cheval a chuté dans un passage, et le conducteur sauta lourdement de l'attelage. Il agita son fouet et monta la pente pas à pas, maladroitement, a côté de la carriole, une main sur le marchepied, les yeux au sol. Après un moment, il leva la tête, montra la route avec la pointe du fouet, et dit: -
"L'idiot!"
Le soleil brillait violemment sur la surface ondulée de la terre. Les sommets été surmontés par des touffes d'arbres maigres, avec leurs branches montant haut dans le ciel comme si elles avaient été perchées sur des échasses. Les petits champs, coupés par des haies et des murs de pierre qui zigzagaient sur les pentes, s'étandaient en forme de rectanges verts et jaunes vifs, ressemblants à des barbouillages malhabiles d'une image naïve. Et le paysage été divisé en deux par la ligne blanche d'une route qui s'étendait dans de longues boucles au loin, comme un fleuve de poussière rampant sur les collines en chemin vers la mer.
«Il est là", déclara le pilote, encore une fois.
Dans l'herbe haute en bordure de route, un visage passait a coté de la carriole au niveau des roues alors que nous avancions lentement. Le visage imbécile était rouge, et la tête en forme de balle aux cheveux ras sembait gîser seule, son menton dans la poussière. Le corps a été perdu dans les buissons épais le long du bas de la fosse profonde.
C'était le visage d'un garçon. Il pouvait avoir seize ans, à en juger par la taille - peut-être moins, peut-être plus. Ces créatures sont oubliées par le temps, et vivent intouchées par les années jusqu'à ce que la mort les rassemblent en son sein compatissant ; la mort fidèle n'oublie jamais dans son travail quotidient le plus insignifiant de ses enfants.
«Ah! Il ya un autre", a déclaré l'homme, avec une certaine satisfaction dans son ton, comme s'il avait aperçu quelque chose de prévu.
Il y avait une autre. Celui-là se tenait presque au milieu de la route dans l'éblouissement du soleil à la fin de sa propre petite ombre. Et il se tenait avec les mains enfoncées dans les manches opposées de son long manteau, la tête enfoncée entre les épaules, tout recroquevillé dans le flot de la chaleur. De loin, il avait l'aspect de souffrir du froid intense.
"Ce sont des jumeaux», a expliqué le conducteur.
L'idiot fit deux pas en dehors notre chemin et nous regarda par dessus son épaule quand on le frôla. Le regard a été aveugle et fixe, un coup d'œil fasciné, mais il ne se retourna pas pour nous suivre du regard. Probablement l'image passa devant les yeux sans laisser aucune trace sur le cerveau defforméde la créature. Lorsque nous sommes arrivés au sommet de la montée, j'ai regardé par-dessus la carriole. Il se tenait sur la route là où nous l'avions laissé.
Le pilote grimpa sur son siège, fit claquer sa langue, et nous avons commencé a descendre. Le frein grinçait horriblement de temps à autre. En bas de la descente, il ralentit le mécanisme bruyant et dit en se tournant d'un demi-tour sur son attelage -
"Nous en verrons un peu plus par-ci, par-là."
"D'autres idiots? Combien il y en a, alors?" ai-je demandé.
"Il ya quatre - les enfants d'un fermier près de Ploumar là .... Les parents sont morts maintenant", a-t'il ajouté, après un certain temps. "La grand-mère vit à la ferme. Pendant la journée, ils trainent sur cette route, et ils rentrent chez eux au crépuscule avec le bétail .... C'est une bonne ferme."
(extrait)
www.world-english.org
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Years of experience: 18. Registered at ProZ.com: Feb 2012.
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