Talk:Georges Izambard
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Some notes on the translation of the quotation:
I wish to be a poet, and I am working to become a voyant: you would not understand at all, and I would not nearly know how to explain it to you. It's a matter of arriving at the unknown by the disruption of all the senses. The suffering is enormous, but it is neccessary to be strong, to be born a poet, and I have accepted myself as a poet. It's not at all my fault. It's false to say "I think"; one must say "I/one think of me/myself". - Excuse the play on words - I is an other. Too bad for the wood which finds itself a violin, and scorn the un/subconcious, who quibble over that of which they are entirely ignorant!
Both the original and my translation are somewhat stilted; the passage given is a somewhat surrealist piece of wordplay that it is hard to translate literally. Such phrases as "I is an other" are not typos on my part; this is a direct translation.
I feel that I have kept the sense and flow of the original, strange as the result sounds.
The either/or options are down to words in French that do not have a simple equivalent in English; the dual meaning here may be crucial to the meaning of the quotation, which plays strongly on the nature of self. Without being more familiar with the original author or work, this is the best approximation that I can provide.
Parsingphase 15:45, 16 April 2006 (UTC)
- Here are some suggestions for the translation, with my proposed changes in boldface. I've hidden some comments within, and those comments should be visible when you click on "edit this page".
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- I wish to be a poet, and I am working to become a seer: you would not understand at all, and I would not nearly know how to explain it to you. It's a question of coming to the unknown through the disruption of all the senses. The suffering is enormous, but it is necessary to be strong, to be born a poet, and I have accepted myself as a poet. It's not at all my fault. It's wrong to say "I think"; one ought to say "I am thought (of)" - Excuse the play on words - I is an other. Too bad for the wood which finds itself a violin , and scorn the oblivious people , who quibble over matters they know nothing about!
