miércoles, 29 de abril de 2009

Esperanto Blog

byki.soc...@gmail.com_ (mailto:byki.soc...@gmail.com) writes:

_Fi- on ye!_ (http://www.transparent.com/esperanto/2009/04/26/fi-on-ye/)
Posted: 25 Apr 2009 09:42 PM PDT

Sometimes it can be tempting to throw down an Latin- or English- sounding
word, tack a relevant Esperanto suffix on the end, and hope the word works
properly. In some cases, it can be a viable strategy - think of the verb “
halti,” which means “to halt,” or the preposition “kun” (with) which is
remarkably like the Latin “cum.” So, you Latin students out there might use
“fi-” as a root meaning “loyal,” right?
I advise against it! In Esperanto, “fi-” is a prefix that denotes shame
or a bad reputation, much like the infix “-acx-.” (Multaj dankojn, DN, pro
korektis min!) With this in mind, when you encounter “fi-” in a word, don’
t think of the Latin homophone. Instead, recall the Middle English word “
fie,” which you might have seen in Shakespeare plays. It’s not entirely the
same, but it’s similar, and a lot closer than what Latin would have you
Fiskribo - Graffiti
(You should have the idea…I don’t want to offer too many examples,
because most of them would be impolite!)
Post from: _Esperanto Blog_ (http://www.transparent.com/esperanto)


_Fun with Infixes: -estr-_
Posted: 24 Apr 2009 09:42 PM PDT

Taken on its own, the word “estro” means a leader (or, more colloquially,
a boss or a chief). You can put -estr- into a word to create specific
types of leaders.
Sxipestro (sxip- + -estr- + -o) = Ship’s captain
Lernestro (lern- + -estr- + -o) = Principal, professor, etc.
Urbestro (urb- + -estr- + -o) = Mayor
Perhaps your previous Esperanto studies bring to mind the word “fenestro.”
We can break it apart to show fen-, -estr-, and the -o suffix. We know
that “fenestro” actually means “window” (which Zamenhof probably adapted
from the Latin word “fenestra,” from which English derives its oddly
specific verb “defenestration” - to eject from a window!). Given what -estr-
means, the word “fenestro” doesn’t seem to make much sense. A master of “
It’s likely unintentional, but the etymology of “fenestro” ends up
working out quite nicely. The word “feno” in Esperanto means “a chinook,” which
is a type of wind. A window controls whether or not one’s room experiences
the wind or not - which may well be why “wind” fits into the word in
English. With this in mind, perhaps the “fenestro” is meant to be the master
of the winds - something that controls them to keep your papers from blowing
off of your desk, or to keep insects from flying in your window as you
drive to work.
Post from: _Esperanto Blog_ (http://www.transparent.com/esperanto)


_Another Verb to Watch: Spezi_
Posted: 19 Apr 2009 09:42 PM PDT

The useful Esperanto verb “spezi” is often used when a situation involves
money. “Spezi” connotes some kind of transaction. However, the verb on
its own means either “to pay out” or “to take in” or “to earn.” This might
strike you as odd, that a single word should mean two opposite things!
There’s a world of difference between “I earned $3000″ and “I spent $3000!”
Luckily, the Esperanto language does not mind slight redundancy,
especially for clarity’s sake. As such, whenever you want to use “spezi,” keep in
mind the prefixes “en-” (roughly meaning “in”) and “el-” (which is
something like “out”). That way, you can make “spezi” a lot more precise, and
risk less confusion.
Mi enspezis du mil dolarojn! - I took in two thousand dollars!
La knabino elspezos ok aux dek dolarojn por dulcxajxojn. - The girl will
spend eight or ten dollars on candy.
Post from: _Esperanto Blog_ (http://www.transparent.com/esperanto)


_Translation Theory_
Posted: 18 Apr 2009 09:43 PM PDT

What should translators be looking to preserve when they translate an
existing work into Esperanto? Believe it or not, this is one of the first major
issues Zamenhof tackled when he invented Esperanto. He painstakingly
translated the Old Testament from Latin in hopes of capturing the beauty he
perceived in it, while remaining faithful (no pun intended) to the meaning of
the text.
By looking at Zamenhof’s project, I think we can summarize the goals that
any good translation should try to encompass:
1) Accuracy (Akurateco)
2) Structure (Strukturo)
3) Beauty (Beleco)
When I say “accuracy,” I refer to the general direction that the text
leads its audiences. If the story being translated is about dogs chasing a
fox, then the translation had better be the same thing!
Capturing the “structure” of a work is a bit more difficult to explain.
When an author or poet creates a work, the words are laid out in a specific
order, and moreover, the words used are carefully chosen. For example,
think of the difference between the following two sentences: “The cars collided.
” “The cars smashed into each other.” For the most part, the two
sentences are synonymous; however, each one conveys a different connotation. A good
Esperanto translation should try to capture the structure of the sentences
it translates, since the language lends itself rather well to such things.
Lastly, the beauty of the original work should be preserved. If you have
ever read a poem or a novel that was originally in a different language,
there is always the sense that something is lost in translation. Perhaps words
do not rhyme in English when they do in Spanish, or perhaps a pun
disappears when a new language is used. It might be challenging to do, but the best
translations manage to keep things like rhyme, puns, and alliteration.
For a great example that (I believe) captures these three elements, I
recommend reading Odd Tangerud’s marvelous translation of Henrik Ibsen’s “A
Doll’s House.” The title is translated as “Puphejmo,” which literally means
“A Doll’s House.” Think of how different the title would sound if it had
been “Hejmo de Pupo.” The selection is not incorrect, but it feels
Take a look at the translation _here_
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19030/19030-h/19030-h.htm) .
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