Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Translated Poems Translated

For some reason I figured it'd be a silly idea to run a few famous poems through a Google Translate gauntlet and check out the end result. I then attempted to decipher the version that had been somewhat lost in translation, but upon finding that that was nearly impossible, I decided to provide somewhat of a commentary instead. The bold print is the translated poem, and the italicized, yellow print is mine.

Sonnet XVIII
by William Shakespeare

I, I'll wear a summer day?
A stuttering man contemplates impractical fashion choices.
Fine arts, you warmer:
Who needs a furnace when you’ve got the fine art to keep you warm?
Stormy winds, no Darling Buds of Jake Moon
The cold, brisk winds cause EastEnders’ star Jake Moon’s “darling buds” to dissipate.
Rent on a specific day of the press:
The paper arrives on Sunday. I expect you to be moved in at dawn and out by dusk. Be sure you’re back by next Sunday.
And at some point too hot sky shining eyes
And later on less cold ground dull nose?
In many cases, the occurrence of gold is shown in gray,
In this occurrence, the gold is, in fact, not gold.
Fair market decline for some time,
Can’t argue with that.
Foster the course of nature, or in the case do not change:
Either guide nature with the aid of indefinite supernatural powers or go the hell home.
However, your eternal summer shall not fade,
Eternal summers tend not to fade. They’re eternal, after all.
NOR you lose the permission that ow'st value
That’s why you have to use it or lose it.
They boast NOR death, the wander'st on the back
I don’t think death would appreciate all the discourtesy.
To gain time, and if you grow'st,
Odd, I tend to lose time as I grow’st.
        Person to breathe in a position, or you can see so many eyes, as
        For a long time, I live for them, it gives you life.
I think this is representing the breathing exercises performed at those new mom prep classes.

Budless Jake Moon. 

Dust of Snow
by Robert Frost

and Raven
hit me
A man aroused by the thought of S&M eggs on a crow.
powder snow
From hemlock trees
Snow falls from trees sometimes.

Given that my heart is
mood changes
Is this bipolar man regretting his decision?
And saved some part
Since that day, I regretted it.
Oh, yep. He is. His desire to be dominated by the crow was only a fleeting fantasy.
To The River
by Edgar Allan Poe
English>Haitian Creole>Cebuano>German>Macedonian>English

Fair River! Bright, vivid colors
           Crystal, loss of water,
An impartial river uncharacteristically brags about its flashy appearance and loss of weight.
They are a symbol of light
              Beauty - heart appears -
              Maziness fun art
Pretty sure this has something to do with clip art.
The daughter of Alberto's age;
Alberto (aka Father Time) gives birth through the measurement of time, obviously.

But if waving -
              Then sparks and flickers –
Oh, the river is combustible?
Why are there so many beautiful rivers
              Believers alike;
When non-living things suddenly gain sentience, they tend to be easily swayed.
Because in my heart, as the flow
           Image Repair lie –
Error 404: Heart not found.
Heart, which shook the beam
Someone threw a heart into a beam like a major league pitcher.
           Soul-searching eyes.
Eyes in search of on a proper pair of shoes. Oh, ‘soul’ not ‘sole’? Well then, I don’t know.

Ah, now the poem makes sense. It was a volcanic river.

Monday, November 11, 2013

VIP: Very Inappropriate Promotion (Account of a Halloween Attraction)

Taking a page out of Muppets for Justice's book, I am going to provide you with a personal account of a recent event because I'm sapped of creativity at the moment. 

What was supposed to be a delightful addition to a Saturday night turned out to be, well, pretty lousy. This isn't a particular interesting account, just another event in my relatively mediocre life.

Saturday, October 12

We’ve safely arrived at the Abington Zombie Apocalypse, an interactive zombie killing experience in an unintentionally post-apocalyptic-looking warehouse. We’ve procured our VIP tickets online, bought at the price of a regular ticket due to a limited time promotion.  We arrive at the warehouse and take in the sight of 2,000 hormonal teenagers, 1,000 heavy-diapered toddlers, and about 14 adults. We find that the VIP line is 10 times longer than the regular line. After some deliberation, we decide to secure our position in the VIP line despite the vast difference in length.

I'd sacrifice my PEZ collection, if I could feel an ounce of the amusement
these people are radiating (Image Source).

The line has branched off into three different segments. The ability to form a straight line was an attribute that humans abandoned approximately 7,000 years ago to make room for the socially acceptable trait of spitting on sidewalks. A member of the staff attempts to correct the issue. Against all odds, the staff member manages to gain the attention of approximately 1,000 reluctant, well-oiled teenagers and form a relatively strait line. However, we’re now further from the entrance.

We’ve been waiting an hour with not much progress, but we’ve been here an hour; no sense in abandoning our progress now.

The first siting of a woman, under the influence of LSD, PCP, ABC, or 123 occurs. She is arguing with a male companion who is ineffectively attempting to cool her jets. It is apparent that this discussion is riddled with intelligent discussions of “fake-ass bitches,” her distaste of said male companion, and her want—no—need of a veggie burger. The discussion ends in the male companion receiving a hearty slap to the face, obviously well-deserved due to his lack of a veggie burger.

We’ve been waiting 2 hours with not much progress, but we’ve been here 2 hours; no sense in abandoning our progress now.

Second siting of the woman occurs. It is obvious she has not fulfilled her desire for a veggie burger, but the male companion assures her, her husband will arrive any minute with the veggie burger. She hugs him in response. The crowd goes wild. She deserts the hug out of embarrassment and slaps the male companion for the second (?) time.

We’ve been waiting 3 hours with only moderate progress, but we’ve been here 3 hours; no sense in abandoning our progress now.

We notice two unfamiliar faces ahead of us in line. These two foreign males are immediately deemed line-cutters. While they are sitting on some cinderblocks in line, we take turns farting on them. They remain steadfast. It isn’t until later that their parents come to pick them up. Justice prevails.

We see some of the zombie extras leaving the facility. We begin floundering in an expanding puddle of doubt. Shortly following this discouraging sight, one of the staff members alerts the crowd that the 15 minute attraction will henceforth be only 8 minutes.

The third, and as we came to find out, last sighting of the veggie burger woman. A cloud of mist spirals in the distance about 20 feet away. We come to find out that the mist was the result of the veggie burger woman’s husband being maced in the face. Apparently, the veggie burger woman’s violent actions toward the staff got her husband maced to death. Cops carry away the Bonnie and Clyde-like duo in handcuffs.

We’ve been waiting 4 hours with noticeable progress, but we’ve been here 4 hours; no sense in abandoning our progress now.

Entertain ourselves with shadow puppets on the ceiling of the tent. The inevitable middle finger of a vagrant teenager puts a stop to the show.

We’ve been waiting 5 hours with a lot of progress. We’ve been here 5 hours; no sense in abandoning our progress now.

Enter the building to find that there’s another line, but at least there’s a TV showing the Red Sox game.

Finally enter the zombie-killing field. It was a pretty fun 8 minutes, despite having waited over 5 hours and notwithstanding the lack of zombies considering the departure of half their extras earlier on in the night.


Go home feeling relatively unsatisfied and having wasted a Saturday night.