| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard: Round the ankles he wore black fringes of hair, and, projecting
from the upper portion of the calves, to which they were attached,
were long spurs like spikes, from which flowed down tufts of
the beautiful black and waving hair of the Colobus monkey. Such
was the elaborate array of the Masai Elmoran who stood watching
the approach of our two canoes, but it is one which, to be appreciated,
must be seen; only those who see it do not often live to describe
it. Of course I could not make out all these details of his
full dress on the occasion of this my first introduction, being,
indeed, amply taken up with the consideration of the general
effect, but I had plenty of subsequent opportunities of becoming
Allan Quatermain |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from An Open Letter on Translating by Dr. Martin Luther: satisfactory German and translated the salutation: "God says
hello, Mary dear" (for that is what the angel was intending to say
and what he would have said had he even been German!). If I had,
I believe that they would have hanged themselves out of their
great devotion to dear Mary and because I have destroyed the
greeting.
Yet why should I be concerned about their ranting and raving? I
will not stop them from translating as they want. But I too shall
translate as I want and not to please them, and whoever does not
like it can just ignore it and keep his criticism to himself, for
I will neither look at nor listen to it. They do not have to
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: "When they have brought such sickly children into the world they ought
to learn how to take care of them."
Words that were cruelly unjust; but his self-love drove him to defend
himself at the expense of his wife. The countess hurried up the steps
and across the portico, and I saw her disappear through the glass
door. Monsieur de Mortsauf seated himself on the bench, his head bowed
in gloomy silence. My position became annoying; he neither spoke nor
looked at me. Farewell to the walk he had proposed, in the course of
which I had hoped to fathom him. I hardly remember a more unpleasant
moment. Ought I to go away, or should I not go? How many painful
thoughts must have arisen in his mind, to make him forget to follow
The Lily of the Valley |
