Once upon a midnight dreary, long we pondered weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of translation lore.When our system does translation, lifeless prose is its creation;Making verse with inspiration no machine has done before.So we want to boldly go where no machine has gone before.Quoth now Google, "Nevermore!"
A stanza from Essai monographique sur les Dianthus des Pyrénées françaises by Edouard Timbal-Lagrave and Eugène Bucquoy, translated to English as a pair of couplets in iambic tetrameter:So here's the dear child under land,will not reflect her beauty andbesides the Great, no alter dark,the pure ray, fronts elected mark.
So here's the dear child under land,will not reflect her beauty andbesides the Great, no alter dark,the pure ray, fronts elected mark.
Voltaire’s La Henriade, translated as a couplet in dactylic tetrameter:These words compassion forced the small to lift her headgently and tell him to whisper: “I'm not dead."
These words compassion forced the small to lift her headgently and tell him to whisper: “I'm not dead."
Le Miroir des simples âmes, an Old French poem by Marguerite Porete, translated to Modern French by M. de Corberon, and then to haiku by us:“Well, gentle soul”, saidLove, “say whatever you please,for I want to hear.”
“Well, gentle soul”, saidLove, “say whatever you please,for I want to hear.”
