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Freelance translator and/or interpreter, Verified site user
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Sample translations submitted: 2
English to Spanish: Fragmento de The Looked Room General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English I called Sophie Fanshawe and told her I would be glad to see her whenever it was convenient. We decided on the following day, and she sounded grateful, even though I explained to her that I had not heard from Fanshawe and had no idea where he was. She lived in a red-brick tenement in Chelsea, an old walk-up building with gloomy stairwells and peeling paint on the walls. I climbed the five flights to her floor, accompanied by the sounds of radios and squabbles and flushing toilets that came from the apartments on the way up, paused to catch my breath, and then knocked. An eye looked through the peephole in the door, there was a clatter of bolts being turned, and then Sophie Fanshawe was standing before me, holding a small baby in her left arm. As she smiled at me and invited me in, the baby tugged at her long brown hair. She ducked away gently from the attack, took hold of the child with her two hands, and turned him face front towards me. This was Ben, she said, Fanshawe’s son, and he had been born just three-and-a-half months ago. I pretended to admire the baby, who was waving his arms and drooling whitish spittle down his chin, but I was more interested in his mother. Fanshawe had been lucky. The woman was beautiful, with dark, intelligent eyes, almost fierce in their steadiness. Thin, not more than average height, and with something slow in her manner, a thing that made her both sensual and watchful, as though she looked out on the world from the heart of a deep inner vigilance. No man would have left this woman of his own free will—especially not when she was about to have his child. That much was certain to me. Even before I stepped into the apartment, I knew that Fanshawe had to be dead.
Translation - Spanish Llamé a Sophie Fanshawe y le dije que estaría encantado de verla cuando fuera conveniente. Decidimos reunirnos al día siguiente y ella parecía estar agradecida, a pesar de que le expliqué que Fanshawe no me había contactado y que no tenía idea de dónde estaba. Ella vivía en un edificio de ladrillos a la vista en Chelsea, un viejo edificio sin ascensor, con unas escaleras sórdidas y la pintura descascarada. Subí los cinco pisos hasta llegar al suyo, acompañado por sonidos de radios, discusiones y descarga de inodoros que provenían de los departamentos; me detuve para recuperar el aliento y luego llamé a la puerta. Apareció un ojo en la mirilla, se oyó un ruido de cerrojos abriéndose y luego apareció Sophie Fanshawe, de pie, delante de mí, sosteniendo un pequeño bebé con el brazo izquierdo. Mientras me sonreía y me invitaba a pasar, el bebé tiraba del largo cabello castaño de su madre. Ella esquivó el ataque cuidadosamente, tomó a su hijo con las dos manos y lo volteó de modo tal que quedamos de frente. Me dijo que era Ben, el hijo de Fanshawe, y que había nacido hacía solo tres meses y medio. Fingí admirar al bebé, que estaba agitando los brazos y babeándose el mentón con una sustancia
blanquecina, pero estaba más interesado en su madre. Fanshawe había tenido suerte. La mujer era hermosa, de ojos oscuros, inteligentes y casi feroces en su firmeza. Delgada, de estatura media y con cierta lentitud en sus movimientos; algo que la hacía sensual y alerta a la vez, como si observase al mundo desde el corazón de una profunda vigilancia interna. Ningún hombre habría dejado a esta mujer por voluntad propia, y menos cuando estaba a punto de tener a su hijo. De eso estaba seguro. Incluso antes de poner un pie en el departamento, supe que Fanshawe tenía que estar muerto.
English to Spanish: Fragmento de Bel Canto General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English In the five years since then he had seen eighteen performances featuring Roxane Coss. The first was a lucky coincidence, the other times he went to the city where she would be, creating business to take him there. He saw La Sonnambula three nights in a row. He had never sought her out or made himself to be anything more than any other member of the audience. He did not assume his appreciation for her talent exceeded anyone else’s. He was more inclined to believe that only a fool would not feel about her exactly how he felt. There was nothing more to want than the privilege to sit and listen.
Read a profile of Katsumi Hosokawa in any business magazine. He would not talk in terms of passion, as passion was a private matter, but opera was always there, the human interest angle to make him appear more accessible. Other CEOs were shown fly-fishing in Scottish rivers or piloting their own Learjets into Helsinki. Mr. Hosokawa was photographed at home in the leather chair he sat in when he listened.
Translation - Spanish Durante los siguientes cinco años, vio dieciocho interpretaciones de Roxane Coss: la primera fue una afortunada coincidencia; en las otras, creaba negocios que lo llevaran a la ciudad donde estaría ella. Vio La Sonnambula tres noches seguidas. Nunca había intentado acercarse a Roxane Coss, ni ser más que un miembro de la audiencia. Tampoco suponía que su aprecio por dicho talento superaba el de otros; más bien, creía que solo un tonto no sentiría lo mismo que él sentía por
ella. Tener el privilegio de sentarse y escucharla era más que suficiente.
Si uno lee una descripción de Katsumi Hosokawa en cualquier revista de negocios, verá que no habla de manera apasionada (ya que la pasión es una cuestión privada), pero la ópera estaba siempre presente para exhibir su costado humano y mostrarlo más accesible. Mientras que a otros directores ejecutivos, se los muestra pescando con mosca en los ríos de Escocia o piloteando volando sus Learjets hacia Helsinki; al señor Hosokawa lo fotografían en su casa, en aquel sillón de cuero en el que se sentaba a escuchar música.
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Translation education
Bachelor's degree - Bachiller en Traducción Pública e Interpretación, UNC y Traducción Científico-literaria, USAL
