02 May 2011

Experiments in translation continue

It is difficult to keep up with the stories if I don't type them straight here, so as I am not at work I have time to write. I probably skip quite a few stories here and there because they are ambitious multi-media presentations.

L'ho scritto una poesia:

Stasera incontro una amica italiana
E parliamo delle mi sto allenando a parlare francese,
A mi ditta, tu non cerca forza eh?
Mi risponda no, tu non cerca forza per me,
Io promiso a rimanere itiliano
Lei ha mi chiamo bello
E io lei chiama bella
Ma aspetta lei se piace
Sempre rimanere amice
E molto bene

Now actually I do not write in Italian very well, I am piling verbs upon verbs upon verbs, but I can adjust goof-le translator a bit and come up with:

Tonight I meet a friend Italian
And speaking of I'm training to speak French,
At my company, you do not look strong, eh?
I answer no, you do not try to force me,
I promised to stay until
You call me beautiful
And you call me beautiful
But wait if you like
Always remain friends
And very well.

There are no accents in the Italian words above and there are meant to be in many instances. Non c'e una problema. Italiano ella bella lingua delle labre bellissime rosse che canta con emozione. Si, mi sono pazzo. Ancora,

back to the story, it was simply that I had earlier enjoyed learning French by singing along with Louis Armstrong, Knockin' On A Jug in particulaire, so I was keen to show off. "Vuole vou mange, avec-moi, sessoi?" Or, even an an "oo" at the front to find out where you would like to have dinner with me tonight. She wanted to ascertain if I was going to "switch sides" from speaking Italian to French. Note that my friend, mia amica, likes girls as much as me, which is to say she finds them fascinating, rare, shining creatures of the air. I tell if she promises not to switch sides for me, I will not switch sides to French. We salute drinks to, salutiamo e cantere, "viva italia".

There is a picture too.

I make a mission and I get to the pub, the pictures, le pitture, must come later, but I am happy with the words.

The pub was excellent because Joe sang a song about shining souls as I heard it anyway and James had Jingle Bells in the awesome finish to the happy hugging song of friendship everlasting through days and nights long and all together 88 angels were born.

Now I can go back to the weekend:

With the universe,
Is with you.

Fundamental rule of living

On a trip to Wollongong with Claire, we pass through Sutton Forrest, notice a Persian Rug sale and decide to stop. Before we wander in to the hall I decide to spend $180 maximum. I take off my shoes once inside as it is proper to wander in socks on fine rugs. The really big ones are thousands of dollars and need castle walls to appreciate. They are bigger than the floors of my two humble rooms.

We start to browse their small rugs as they are the only thing within my budget. There are four gentlemen wandering the floor and the Chief amongst them tells me he is from Afghanistan in response to questioning. I start by paraphrasing the verse from the Qur’an that I had been contemplating the night before, about the illimitable, indescribable nature of Allah. The youngest guy gives a deep grunt in acknowledgment when I finish. I feel that I am in a solid bargaining position with a people who love to barter.

Kalashnikov motifs, tanks, directions to Herat. The Twin Towers before the fall, surrounded by planes, helicopters and flames. The Chief will not translate for me the quasi-Cyrillic looking script on this ‘September 11 Commemorative Rug’, so I suspect it speaks of the hell of infidels, proclaims, “Death to America!”, or praises the paradise of martyrs. “This is plane, this is helicopter, you see,” is all he will say about it.

He assures me that any purchase made equates to an investment for my children. The rug I choose has a sticker on the back with $720 crossed out and replaced with $290. I mention $180 and the Chief says I can have it for $190. I offer $185 and tell him my children will have no goats at that price. It is agreed and I enter the sum into the EFTPOS machine myself.


Peppergreen. I remember once I am gazing on the fabrics being seized by a strange desire to buy pieces of cloth that will serve no useful purpose whatsoever. I can not stop taking photos and do my best to be surreptitious, only to notice the monitor displaying a view of every room when we are at the counter later. Resisted.

Esparadille, $10 a metre times by two for Claire. Amazingly I manage not to buy the cloth I desire for crazy pants -although this will be the winter of my crazy pants- because then they must be tailored too and I am saving. Now I have realised I could sew tartan patches all over wool pants, they would be much warmer, except I would lool like a scarecrow. True, I have no skills with a needle at this point either.


Let us avant to the kingdom of pies
Where Robertson lies.

Wuthering Heights covered by Josh Pyke.

PICTURE (this is it)

Dear Sir,

I feel it is my duty to inform you that the concrete surrounding your establishment would benefit from the application of a stiff brush and a high-pressure hose. Further, I find the practice of charging for tomato sauce distinctly un-Australian. My feeling is that this condiment should be provisioned unhindered with baked savouries nation-wide. I implore you to espouse this cause.



PS I found your Cherry Pie excellent.

PICTURE (cabinet)

Beethoven’s 6th Symphony through the verdant descent of Macquarie Pass.

A meditation lesson

Feel your breath is as wide as the ocean,
Drawn from the deep of the sea;
At the same time,
Feel your heart is crying
For solace that nothing on earth can provide.

Back to the back story.

Whencefore, where did this angel appear? When I miss her I appreciate her so much more in some subtle way, upon the next of seeing and peering through her door. "I perceive everything inside Your Heart-Depth." Saviour-words from Maestro Sri Chinmoy. They make everything better. I am sorry I do not remember the song, maybe Tomare Rakhibo, secretly secret deep within. The waiting makes it better, words upon the ocean shore some months before.

To do:

pick up dry cleaning
boot fitting
compose leaf shape song

David Helfgott plays a mean Souvenir's d'Andalouise

This is an interesting blog post, even if it probably make no sense, needs about 20 pictures and contains numerous instances of misplaced polyglotism. The longer it gets, the harder it is to edit. Now that I know how to fill in the gaps, I must learn to make a framework.

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