Iarrtas eadar-theangachaidh inntinneach air Liosta-B

[Gràisg]

Thachair mi air na leanas air liosta-B. Tha Matthew coir ag iarraidh beagan taic leis a chuid obair air an sonnet seo:

"Hello,
As an exercise to improve my command of Scots Gaelic, I have begun to tr*nsl*t* a sonnet in French by Jose Maria de Heredia.

My goal is to tr*nsl*t* accurately and in natural Scots Gaelic. I am not trying to reproduce poetic effects or make the tr*nsl*t**n a poem, not at this stage in my study. I welcome any constructive criticism.

The poem is L'Oubli

Here is the first quatrain in French, followed by an English tr*nsl*t**n by Donald Sidney-Fryer, and then my attempt in Scots Gaelic.

Le temple est en ruine au haut du promontoire.
Et la Mort a mêlé, dans ce fauve terrain,
Les Déesses de marbre et les Héros d'airain
Dont l'herbe solitaire ensevelit la gloire.

The temple stands in ruins atop the promontory.
Here Death has all mixed up, in this fawn-colored land,
The marble Goddesses and Heroes cast in bronze,
Whose high renown the solitary grass enshrouds. (DS-F)


Tha an teampall ann an tobhta air muin an rubha.
(Roghainn eile: Is ann an tobhta a tha an teampall air muin an rubha.)
Agus mheasgaich am Ba\s, ann an talamh bhuidhe seo,
Na Ban-diathan ma\rlach/marmorach agus na Gaisgich lachdann

Agus tha am feur uaigneach a’ ceileadh a’ ghlo\ir."

Seo far a bheil e air an liosta ma tha moladh sam bith agad-sa
https://listserv.heanet.ie/cgi-bin/wa?A ... O=D&P=5466

[GunChleoc]

Tapadh leat airson aire a thoirt air seo.

[Gràisg]

Tha Matthew coir a' cumail a' dol leis:

"Thanks everyone for the comments and corrections to my draft tr*nsl*t**n for the first stanza.

Here is the second stanza of the French poem "'L'Oubli" by de Heredia. First the French original, then an English tr*nsl*t**n by Donald Sidney-Fryer, and then my attempt at a literal tr*nsl*t**n into Gaelic.


Seul, parfois, un bouvier menant ses buffles boire,
De sa conque où soupire un antique refrain
Emplissant le ciel calme et l'horizon marin,
Sur l'azur infini dresse sa forme noire.

Alone, sometimes, a drover leading his oxen to water---

With his conch from which yearns an ages-old complaint

Filling the tranquil skies and the marine horizon---

Lifts his dark form against that infinite clear-blue. (D S-F)

Is ‘na aonar buachaille (a) tha a’ tre\orachadh uaireannan a chruidh dh’an o\l,

Bho a chonachag ca\it’ ag osnachadh se\ist a\rsaidh

Ag li\onadh an adhair she\imh agus na fa\ire mhuiraiche---

A’ togail a chrutha dhuibh an agaidh na liath-ghuirme neo-chri\ochnach."