Преводачески проблеми
Аз лично просто бих се разплакал, честно. Трудно ми е много, ако не става въпрос за Braveheart, но тук ще се напъна и ще си се разрева като пич.Trip wrote:Бягат нашите с коне сред руската степ. Някакъв мафиот е пратил хората си да ги гонят, но нашите са им се измъкнали временно. Спират и се чудят какво ще правят оттук нататък насред нищото. По самотния път приближава кола. Колата на Клайв Къслър. С Клайв Къслър и жена му в нея. Които измъкват нашите и им купуват билети за влака, за да избягат на мафиота.
Клайв Къслър и жена му спасиха нашите от руски мафиот току-що.
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tigermaster
- Elder God
- Posts: 6459
- Joined: Wed Jun 14, 2006 11:39 am
Трилъри пише, принципно. Чувал съм даже, че бил добър, обаче не съм го чел.
Света аз цял обходих
и изправен гордо пак стоя.
Срещнах милиони хора
и на всичките им взех ума.
Блог
The Painting
Случаят с изтрития спомен
РЕВЮ: „The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power”
и изправен гордо пак стоя.
Срещнах милиони хора
и на всичките им взех ума.
Блог
The Painting
Случаят с изтрития спомен
РЕВЮ: „The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power”
Съгласен. Рекох съвсем леко да я зачета в началото и неусетно я опосках.Marfa wrote:Много хубава статия.
Лично аз отдавам огромно уважение и почитание, към добрите преводачи в България и от доста време внимателно следя кой е правил превода, преди да закупя книгата.
Да раздвижа темата: предизвиквам някой да преведе това гениално творение на Джон Скалзи 
Night had come to the city of Skalandarharia, the sort of night with such a quality of black to it that it was as if black coal had been wrapped in blackest velvet, bathed in the purple-black ink of the demon squid Drindel and flung down a black well that descended toward the deepest, blackest crevasses of Drindelthengen, the netherworld ruled by Drindel, in which the sinful were punished, the black of which was so legendarily black that when the dreaded Drindelthengenflagen, the ravenous blind black badger trolls of Drindelthengen, would feast upon the uselessly dilated eyes of damned, the abandoned would cry out in joy as the Drindelthengenflagenmorden, the feared Black Spoons of the Drindelthengenflagen, pressed against their optic nerves, giving them one last sensation of light before the most absolute blackness fell upon them, made yet even blacker by the injury sustained from a falling lump of ink-bathed, velvet-wrapped coal.
With the night came a storm, the likes of which the eldest among the Skalandarharians would proclaim they had seen only once before, although none of them could agree which on which one time that was; some said it was like the fabled Scouring of Skalandarharia, in which the needle-sharp ice-rain flayed the skin from the unjust of the city, provided they were outside at the time, while sparing the just who had stayed indoors; others said it was very similar to the unforgettable Pounding of Skalandarharia, in which hailstones the size of melons destroyed the city’s melon harvest; still others compared it to the oft-commented-upon Moistening of Skalandarharia, in which the persistent humidity made everyone unbearably sticky for several weeks; at which point they were informed that this storm was really nothing like that at all, to which they replied perhaps not, but you had to admit that was a pretty damn miserable time.
Which is to say: It was a dark and stormy night.
Night had come to the city of Skalandarharia, the sort of night with such a quality of black to it that it was as if black coal had been wrapped in blackest velvet, bathed in the purple-black ink of the demon squid Drindel and flung down a black well that descended toward the deepest, blackest crevasses of Drindelthengen, the netherworld ruled by Drindel, in which the sinful were punished, the black of which was so legendarily black that when the dreaded Drindelthengenflagen, the ravenous blind black badger trolls of Drindelthengen, would feast upon the uselessly dilated eyes of damned, the abandoned would cry out in joy as the Drindelthengenflagenmorden, the feared Black Spoons of the Drindelthengenflagen, pressed against their optic nerves, giving them one last sensation of light before the most absolute blackness fell upon them, made yet even blacker by the injury sustained from a falling lump of ink-bathed, velvet-wrapped coal.
With the night came a storm, the likes of which the eldest among the Skalandarharians would proclaim they had seen only once before, although none of them could agree which on which one time that was; some said it was like the fabled Scouring of Skalandarharia, in which the needle-sharp ice-rain flayed the skin from the unjust of the city, provided they were outside at the time, while sparing the just who had stayed indoors; others said it was very similar to the unforgettable Pounding of Skalandarharia, in which hailstones the size of melons destroyed the city’s melon harvest; still others compared it to the oft-commented-upon Moistening of Skalandarharia, in which the persistent humidity made everyone unbearably sticky for several weeks; at which point they were informed that this storm was really nothing like that at all, to which they replied perhaps not, but you had to admit that was a pretty damn miserable time.
Which is to say: It was a dark and stormy night.
PICARD: Now, are we progressing, Mister La Forge?
LAFORGE: About like you'd expect, sir.
PICARD: Splendid. Splendid. Carry on.
LAFORGE: About like you'd expect, sir.
PICARD: Splendid. Splendid. Carry on.
"Беше тъмно като в кучи гъз и бушуваше ебем ти бурята."
Бългериън пъблишинг-стайл.
Бългериън пъблишинг-стайл.
The Best of Mozart
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rb0UmrCXxVA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rb0UmrCXxVA
Moridin wrote:Нещо хайпът във форума силно намаля
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