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Danish to English: Den Lange Vej - Peder Hove (short excerpt) General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Danish ***The following text is an excerpt from the 1st pages of the (fantastic) novel “Den Lange Vej” (1993) by the famous Danish author Peder Hove. Please note that the following quotation is presented here with the exclusive purpose of showing the set of qualifications outlined above and shall not be reproduced for commercial use or any other use that does not fall into the category of fair use of copyrighted works. ***
”(...) Den friske kølighed i luften oven på den ualmindelig trægt silende dagsregn fik ham til at føle sig direkte oplivet, næsten overstadig, som var han kommet fra et større symposium. Der var ellers ikke blevet nydt nogen form for spiritus ud over et bæger frugtvin til afsked, det siger sig selv; og maden lå som en kugle i maven. Flæskesteg med brun sovs og kartofler og rødkål. Bagefter: kærnemælksfromage. Det har taget ham længere tid, end han havde regnet med, at vænne sig til den bastante danske kost; lige da han kom hertil, havde han endog haft opkastningsfornemmelser af og til, når han havde spist, men efterhånden gik det glimrende. Blot ikke i dag, skønt han tog fint til den opbagte sovs. Skammeligt, for værtinden havde ment det godt, og han havde alle dage, hvad han gerne skal indrømme, været en smule madglad.
Hvilken luft! Sval og med ét anderledes at indånde, af an anden vægtfylde, som havduften, der pludselig kom ham i møde, når han som dreng havde cyklet ad den smalle skovvej ned mod kysten, og Øresund dukkede op forude.
Men her i kupéen kommer den trykkende fornemmelse igen, og han føler en ubehagelig hede i krop og ansigt, selvom temperaturen i waggonen ikke er overvældende høj. — Måske skulle han gå ud på toilettet.
Han sidder ved vinduet med ansigtet i køreretningen; sådan kan han bedst lide det. Et øjeblik lægger han nakken tilbage og lader den hvile mod det glatte læder; men kun i nogle få sekunder. Så læner han sig atter frem og ser ud ad vinduet mod den stadig overtrukne himmel.
Skylaget er tykt og tæt og skråner ligesom opad mod vest som et vældigt, bulet halvtag, hvorunder en smule dagslys kiler sig ind. I aften vil det uden tvivle blive meget mørkt, da skyerne nok bliver liggende i det stille vejr. Mørkt, klart og vindstille; det kan ikke være bedre; perfekt til formålet; endnu et lykketræf åbenbart. Endnu et af de mange helt eventyrlige held, der har kendetegnet hans færd gennem snart to et halvt år.
Forunderligt, at det er gået godt så længe.
Forunderligt, at han, Jørgen Thalbitzer, sidder her, nybarberet og renvasket, iført nydeligt mørkegråt jakkesæt, hvid skjorte og slips! Tænk, at han — skønt barnefødt i København — sidder her og ikke i OFLAG XXI B ved Schubin! — Men ”krukken går så længe til vands” osv. ——— Well, ingen gamle ordsprog og talemåder har hundrede procents gyldighed, og gudskelov for det. Bare ”krukken” kommer hjem, så pyt med hanken! Man kan vel få en ny nu om stunder!
Hans to rejsefælder, der har sat sig på sædet over, er lige så fåmælte som han selv; Jimmy B. af gode grunde, men heller ikke doktor Gundtoft, som ellers næppe kan kaldes mundlam, føler tilsyneladende nogen særlig trang til at sige noget.
Hver har jo sit at overveje.
(…)”
-Peder Hove, "Den Lange Vej", 1993, page 1.
Translation - English ***The following text is a non-commercial translation of an excerpt from the 1st chapter of the (fantastic) novel “Den Lange Vej” (1993) by the famous Danish author Peder Hove. Please note that this quotation is presented here with the exclusive purpose of showing the set of qualifications outlined above and that any other usage may be prohibited. ***
"(...) The fresh, cool air following the rain that had been pouring abnormally sluggishly during the day, made him feel cheered up, almost ecstatic, as if he had been at a great symposium, although they obviously hadn’t enjoyed any type of alcohol — apart from a cup of fruit wine before leaving. The food weighted heavily in his stomach. Roast pork with brown sauce, potatoes, red cabbage, and subsequently buttermilk mouse; it had taken him longer time than he’d expected to get used to the solid Danish diet; occasionally, during the time following his arrival, he had even felt queasy after eating, but he was gradually doing fine. Just not today, although he had eagerly contributed to the disappearance of the roux sauce at the dining table. Sad, because the hostess had only had good intentions, and—as he was not afraid of admitting—he had always been quite fond of good meals.
How wonderful the air! Comfortably cool and different to breath—and of another density, like the fragrance of the sea that suddenly met him when he, as a boy, had pedalled along the narrow forest road towards the coast with Oresund looming ahead.
But here in the compartment the uncomfortable feeling is arising once again, and heat is flowing through his face and body, although the temperature of the wagon isn’t overwhelmingly high. - Perhaps he should go to the toilet.
He is sitting by the window with his face turned in the direction of the movement of the train; this is the way likes it. For a brief moment, he is leaning his neck back against the smooth leather, but just for a few seconds. Then he leans forward again and looks at the cloudy sky outside the window. The clouds are thick and dense, and seemingly slanting up westward as an enormous, bulging pent roof, under which narrow rays of daylight peek in. Tonight, it will undoubtedly get very dark, since the clouds are probably going to stay due to the quiet weather. Dark, clear, and no wind; it couldn’t possibly be better; perfect for the purpose; apparently another lucky coincidence. Another of one of those amazingly lucky breaks, that have characterised his life during the past, almost, two-and-a-half years.
Odd, that it has been going so well for so long.
Odd, that he, Jørgen Thalbitzer, is sitting here, shaven and washed, wearing a neat dark-grey suit, white shirt and tie! Imagine that he—despite being born in Copenhagen—is sitting here and not in OFLAG XXI B in Szubin! —But, “all good things come to an end…” Well, no old adages and sayings are a hundred percent valid, and thanks God for that! If the good things just come, then who cares about the end?! These days, it must be possible to buy other “good things” somehow!
His two companions, currently sitting on the seat opposite him, are being just as tight-lipped as himself; Jimmy B. for good reasons, but even doctor Gundtoft, whom one wouldn’t otherwise call lost for words, apparently isn’t feeling any urge to say anything.
Obviously, each one has his own considerations.
(...)"
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Years of experience: 9. Registered at ProZ.com: Oct 2016.
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Translation is an art that I feel very passionate about. To me, it isn't just a matter of conveying information; the perfect translation preserves the soul and intrinsic nature of the message, i.e., its essence—whether it be fiction or non-fiction.
Who am I? I was born in Denmark, where I still live to this day. My primary interest has always been theoretical physics; however, I have discovered that my love for formulae and logic is just as applicable to grammar; translating a sentence is like solving an equation. Today I translate as a non-profit volunteer on Wikipedia and on similar platforms.
Translation is the means by which human thought is able to transcend cultural barriers and make the world intellectually richer. This is something that means a lot to me.
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