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Sample translations submitted: 1
English to Portuguese: I will reveal it later/Revelarei posteriormente
Source text - English (I have other samples, but the originals are in jpeg format. I can send those samples via e-mail).
COUNCIL OF WAR
Enough bees can kill a ravener.
(a precept of the Plainsmen)
as he tore across the ferngardens, leaping two more ditches,
Carnelian was relieved to put the Grove between him and the
dragons. He caught up with Morunasa in the Southgarden.
‘Where’s the Master?’ cried the Oracle.
‘Marshal your warriors. We’ll need them to punch a hole through the encirclement.’
Morunasa gauged Carnelian, then swung round in his saddle-chair spitting out instructions in his own language. His Oracles raced away, riding hard to overtake the Marula flight.
He turned back. ‘Where?’
Carnelian could feel no thunder in the ground. The dragons must be circling the Koppie to cut them off. He sent his aquar past Morunasa, heading for the Old Bloodwood Tree. They leapt another ditch and careered into a body of riders crammed around the tree. Carnelian urged his aquar towards Fern’s. Osidian was there, guarded by Darkcloud. His crazed eyes drilled past Carnelian. ‘Morunasa, destroy these unbelievers.’
Carnelian’s hand, reaching for his spear, relaxed when he saw Morunasa shaking his head. ‘No, Master. Now I must do what I can to save my people.’
Carnelian addressed Osidian. ‘It’s not in your interests to impede us further. Even now Aurum is throwing his forces around us to capture you.’
Osidian’s head dropped to his chest. Carnelian looked around him. Faces were tight with terror, but he was sure they would obey him. He managed a smile for Poppy sitting with Krow. ‘We must go.’
Fern shook his head. ‘I’m staying.’
Carnelian took in all the Darkcloud with a glare. ‘If the Master’s taken your tribe’ll be burned alive.’ Then to Morunasa: ‘Get them through the auxiliaries. Now go!’
Poppy began a protest, but Krow carried them both off after Morunasa and the others as they sped off down the Blooding.
Carnelian knew this delay might hazard his whole plan. He had to get away. ‘Fern, come with me. Your mother didn’t want you to throw your life away. Live for her.’
Fern’s face darkened. ‘How dare you quote my—’
At that moment a whining scream drew their eyes towards the Grove. Hissing, the mother trees were leafed with flames. Fern’s mouth fell open as he stared, frozen by horror. Carnelian freed his spear and with its haft struck Fern’s aquar into motion. Then kicking his own he took the lead and was relieved when the other followed him.
Hurtling down the Blooding Carnelian could see, on the plain, the horns of the auxiliaries’ encirclement coming together. Osidian’s Plainsmen were a fleeing rabble already beyond their grasp. The Marula looked in better order, but would soon be overtaken by the auxiliaries. He and Fern dodged through the slaughterhouse chaos of the Killing Field. As they reached open fernland, Carnelian was glad to see that Fern seemed more composed. Both saw the Marula slowing, even as the auxiliary encirclement closed ahead of them. Their ranks opened to absorb Osidian and the Darkcloud. Carnelian and Fern coaxed even more speed out of their aquar. Soon there were Marula all around them, every eye focused on the auxiliary line thickening ahead. When the Marula let forth a battlecry, Carnelian joined his voice to theirs. Aquar added their screeching to the tumult. Their charge struck the auxiliaries with a detonation that reverberated through the ground. Their intersection frothed like a breaking wave. Then the auxiliary wall broke and he and the Marula washed through. More auxiliaries crashed into their flanks as the enveloping curve melted into pursuit. Carnelian was losing hope of escape, when trumpets screamed from behind them. He looked round and saw the auxiliaries slowing, disengaging, veering away, but his cry of triumph caught in his throat as he saw that the Grove had become the roots of a tower of smoke that might have been the Marula god rising up in wrath from the earth.
Flattened ferns formed a road that led them to the Bluedancing’s outer ditch. Several earthbridges spanned it but of these all but one had collapsed. Carnelian rode across and found himself in a fern-garden similarly trampled. It was larger than any of the Ochre outer gardens. He grew uneasy at the eerie quiet, at how tall the ferns had grown, at the saplings sprung up everywhere. Glancing round, he saw the earthbridge was funnelling the Marula. He did not wait for them all to cross, but rode towards the next ditch with Osidian and his Darkcloud escort, Fern and Morunasa, Krow and Poppy and some Oracles in their wake.
The edges of the next ditch had crumbled. The earth on the other side had been gouged by many claws. Carnelian was reassured. Those fresh red wounds showed that many aquar had crossed there today. At least some of the tribes must have come at his summons.
He jumped his aquar across then scrambled up the other side. A trail led off through another large ferngarden. At its further end rose the hill that was the koppie’s heart.
Translation - Portuguese (Tenho outras amostras, mas os originais estão em formato jpeg. Posso enviar essas amostras por e-mail).
CONSELHO DE GUERRA
Muitas abelhas podem matar um corvo.
(Provérbio dos Homens das Planícies)
Ao atravessar os Jardins de Fetos e saltar mais dois fossos, Carnelian sentiu-se aliviado ao aperceber-se de que entre ele e os dragões se encontrava agora a Mata. Acabou por conseguir apanhar Morunasa no Jardim do Sul.
– Onde está o Mestre? – gritou o oráculo.
– Reúne os teus homens... Vamos precisar deles para romper o cerco.
Morunasa analisou Carnelian, depois deu meia-volta na sua cadeira-sela debitando ordens na sua língua nativa. Dadas as ordens, os oráculos arrancaram a toda a brida na esteira dos Marula.
– Onde está o Mestre?! – repetiu Morunasa, tornando a voltar-se para Carnelian.
Já não se sentia o solo a tremer... Os dragões deviam estar a cercar o cabeço, para os isolarem. Carnelian picou o seu aquar, passando por Morunasa em direcção ao Eucalipto Velho. Saltaram mais uma vala e dirigiram-se a um grupo de montadores que se encontrava reunido em torno da árvore. Uma vez ali chegados, Carnelian aproximou-se imediatamente de Fern. Osidian lá estava, guardado por guerreiros Nuvem-Negra, com um olhar desvairado que trespassava Carnelian.
– Morunasa, destrói estes infiéis!
Perante esta ordem, Carnelian lançou a mão à sua lança mas relaxou quando viu a cabeça de Morunasa a abanar.
– Não, Mestre... Agora tenho de fazer o possível para salvar o meu povo.
– Não é do seu interesse causar-nos mais problemas – acrescentou Carnelian, dirigindo-se a Osidian. – Neste preciso momento, encontramo-nos cercados pelas forças de Aurum, que pretende capturá-lo.
Quando ouviu estas palavras, Osidian baixou a cabeça. Carnelian olhou em volta e viu o terror estampado em todos os rostos, mas sabia que todos lhe obedeceriam.
– Temos de ir – anunciou, esboçando um sorriso para Poppy, que estava sentada ao lado de Krow.
– Eu fico! – respondeu Fern, abanando a cabeça.
– Se o Mestre for capturado, todos os da vossa tribo morrerão queimados – recordou Carnelian, olhando para todos os Nuvem-Negra.
Em seguida, virou-se para Morunasa e disse-lhe que os fizesse passar pelos auxiliares. Poppy ainda esboçou um protesto, mas Krow levou-a consigo atrás de Morunasa e dos outros quando estes já cavalgavam pelo Caminho dos Madeireiros.
Carnelian sabia que este atraso poderia colocar em risco todo o seu plano, pelo que tinha de encontrar maneira de se afastar.
– Fern, vem comigo. A tua mãe não quereria que desperdiçasses a vida. Vive para ela!
– Como te atreves a citar a minha... – começou Fern, antes de ser interrompido pelo guincho estridente que desviou as atenções para a Mata.
Com um ruído sibilante, as árvores-mãe foram engolidas pelas chamas. Quando se deparou com aquela cena, Fern ficou boquiaberto e com o olhar esgazeado, numa expressão congelada pelo mais puro horror. Carnelian puxou da lança e, com o cabo, espantou o aquar de Fern. Em seguida, picou a sua própria montada e, não sem algum alívio, verificou que o companheiro o seguia.
Enquanto galopava pelo Caminho dos Madeireiros, Carnelian pôde ver o cerco dos auxiliares a apertar pela cada vez maior proximidade das suas trompas. Os Homens das Planícies de Osidian debandavam desordenadamente, já fora do alcance do inimigo. Quanto aos Marula, pareciam mais ordenados, mas não tardariam a ser apanhados pelos auxiliares. Carnelian e Fern abriram caminho por entre a carnificina e o caos do Matadouro e, quando chegaram ao Jardim de Fetos, o primeiro observou, aliviado, que o companheiro parecia mais recomposto. Ambos viram os Marula abrandar, quando o cerco dos auxiliares se fechou sobre eles, e as suas alas abrirem para absorverem Osidian e os Nuvem-Negra. Ambos picaram as suas montadas e cedo se viram rodeados de guerreiros Marula com os olhares fixos na linha de auxiliares que engrossava à sua frente. Quando os Marula deram o seu grito de guerra, a voz de Carnelian juntou-se às suas e os guinchos dos aquar engrossaram o tumulto. A carga das forças cercadas atingiu os auxiliares com um estrondo que fez tremer o solo e o ponto onde se deu o recontro assumiu a forma de uma onda em pleno rebentamento. Depois, a linha dos auxiliares rompeu-se e Carnelian e os Marula irromperam pela brecha, porém sempre acossados pelos inimigos que, na ânsia da perseguição, se fundiam numa só linha. Quando já começava a perder as esperanças de que pudessem escapar dali com vida, Carnelian ouviu u som de trompetas vindo de trás. Quando olhou, viu os auxiliares a abrandarem o ritmo e a desistirem gradualmente da perseguição, no entanto o grito da vitória ficou-lhe preso na garganta quando viu que a Mata se transformara na base de uma tamanha coluna de fumo que bem poderia ser o próprio deus dos Marula a erguer-se da terra.
Os fetos espalmados formavam uma estrada que levava ao fosso exterior dos Azul-Dançante. Este fosso era atravessado por várias pontes de terra, mas apenas uma ainda se encontrava de pé. Carnelian atravessou-a e viu-se num jardim de fetos igualmente aplanado. Era maior do que qualquer dos jardins exteriores dos Ocre e o silêncio lúgubre que ali reinava, a altura dos fetos e a abundância de árvores jovens fizeram-no sentir-se muito pouco à vontade. Quando olhou para trás, viu o grosso do corpo dos Marula a afunilar na ponte, tentando passá-la. Sem esperar que todos acabassem de atravessar a ponte, galopou na direcção do fosso seguinte, acompanhado de Osidian e a sua escolta de guerreiros Nuvem-Negra, bem como de Fern; Morunasa; Krow; Poppy e alguns Oráculos que seguiam na esteira desta «comitiva».
As bordas do fosso seguinte haviam-se desmoronado e, do outro lado, a terra parecia ter sido arada por centenas de garras. Esta visão sossegou Carnelian, porque os recentes rasgões vermelhos no solo eram o sinal inequívoco de que muitos aquar tinham passado por ali naquele dia. Pelo menos algumas tribos teriam respondido ao seu chamamento.
O seu aquar transpôs o fosso de um salto e subiu a encosta que surgia no outro lado, onde uma trilha atravessava mais um grande jardim de fetos. No extremo mais longínquo avistava-se o monte que era o próprio coração do cabeço.
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Years of experience: 26. Registered at ProZ.com: Nov 2009.
I am a 39 year-old Portuguese man with 11 years of experience in translation, about two of which in the field of literary translation (collaborating with two major Portuguese publishers). The main thing I can say about me is that I take so much pride and pleasure in my job that, in a sense, one could say I live through it! For me, respecting deadlines AND ensuring a quality job is a matter of the utmost importance, and I take enormous pride in it! It is a matter of honour!
As far as literary translation goes, I really love it because I consider it the queen of translation. It is a bit like soccer or the 500 cc. motorcycle races in the European sport world. In my opinion, literary translation presents a special challenge since it includes quite a bit of interpreting and not so much literal translation (which often is not even desirable. Literary translators translate the idea/concept and not so much the word). Translating a fiction book is like getting into another dimension... Sometimes a fiction book is like a time-space capsule! On the other hand, literary translation also implies (often) sacrificing family and social life, because deadlines are tight and texts can be difficult! It is normal for me to do that for 2/3 months at a time (books I have been translating are, on average, 400 pages long) because:
1 - I love it!
2 - I have very understanding (and supporting) family and friends (my dog included);
3 - After the job, I get those couple of days off in between job orders.
I guess I have said the most important things about me, but if you have any questions, please be my guest!
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