Anne Robinson had joked that she didn’t have time to get another facelift before her debut on Countdown, but Channel 4 found a different way to rewind the years. She was welcomed to her first show with a clip from 1987 when, fresh-faced at 42, she had appeared on Countdown during the Richard Whiteley years with a flicked hairdo that she said was “Bay City Rollers”, but to me looked more “Lady Di”.
In interviews beforehand she had hinted that she would tone down the snark, not reprising the savage put-downs of The Weakest Link that made viewers’ bottoms clench. Such as when she asked a beauty therapist why she hadn’t got round to working on herself. But old habits
You will likely have a new Instagram Stories feature soon. It is now working to bring the translation to his most popular product, Stories. Currently, it offers text translation on its platform: comments, subtitles and profiles. In addition, Instagram will display a "See Translation" button below the text on posts written in a language other than the default language of your Instagram app. This option will appear for translations available for that particular language.
Last month it was reported that Instagram might be working on adding a translation to Stories. This was first shared by app researcher Alessandro Paluzzi, who has updated that Instagram has started testing this feature. According to screenshots shared by Paluzzi, Instagram is testing the ability to translate text in Stories. As stated above, this feature will be visible as a "View Translation" button that will appear just below the username in Stories. First, it will show the original text written in the story, and just below it will show the translated text. Then, when you tap on that Instagram, the translated text gets displayed in a pop-up box below.
Paluzzi proved this with a sentence that said: "Hello, this story is a proof of translation of the story", which is a translated text from the original Italian text. Some stories are filled with text, so it's interesting to see how Instagram translation will work in such cases. However, this Instagram feature is still in trial mode, so not all users will see it. So far, Instagram has also not announced plans to introduce the translation in Stories.
The same method applies to translation works in comments, captions, and profiles on Instagram and is expected to apply to Stories. This will be a valuable feature for Instagram users, especially Stories, a widely used medium. It will also go a long way in connecting the user with the world and will not leave the user alone with the English speaker.
Instagram regularly works on different features and enhancements for its various products within the app. Stories are its most popular product yet, and it launched the caption tag last month. This feature automatically transcribes speech into videos. Therefore, any speech in the videos will be automatically transcribed and appear in real-time in Stories. However, this subtitle tag is not yet available in India.
PESHAWAR: Speakers at a book launching ceremony here on Sunday urged writers to translate quality stuff of the world classics for enriching Pashto language and literature.
They said that rendition from other languages brought along motivation and new ideas.
They lauded the Pashto rendition of ‘Siddhartha’ for its impressive narration and imbibing style.
The Pashto rendition of celebrated novel ‘Siddhartha’ by noted German poet, fictionist and painter Herman Hesse was launched under the auspices of Mafkoora at its main hall. Poets, writers and bibliophiles attended the function in a large number.
Rendered in Pashto by Shaheen Buneri, the book is spread over 148 pages. It narrates the story of self-discovery of a man ‘Siddhartha.’ Originally written in German, it was later rendered into several languages since its first publication of its English version in 1951.
The speakers said that such quality translations from world classics were required to enrich Pashto literature and inspire new ideas for budding literati.
They said that the central theme of the novel was that knowledge could be transferred but one had to struggle for seeking wisdom.
“It is the story of spiritual journey of a young Hindu Brahmin, who comes out successful to know the true meaning of life and death. It is retold in simple, fluent and crispy Pashto by Shaheen Buneri in such a manner that readers cannot but to read it till its end,” said the speakers.
Prof Samiuddin Arman in his remarks said that translation helped people to get introduced with other cultures and gave a world view to know different shades of philosophy, politics, society and traditions that ultimately led to a peaceful co-existence and pluralistic human relations.
He said that the Pashto rendition of Siddhartha would lend an added beauty to Pashto literary corpus and would instill a spirit of introducing new concepts and ideas among young writers.
Hayat Roghani, chief of Mafkoora, on the occasion said that his organisation would continue to encourage poets, writers and translators.
He said that no language could progress without interaction with other world lingos and it could be best done through the art of translation but in a befitting manner.
Llŷr Gwyn Lewis’ novel Rhyw Flodau Rhyfel has been translated into English and will be published by Parthian next month. In conversation here with her daughter, the writer Eluned Gramich, Katie Gramich talks about the challenges of translating a work which is deeply rooted in Welsh culture and identity into English.
We’re sitting in the warm living room, my mum and I, drinking tea, a copy of her translation Flowers of War on the coffee table. There are chocolate digestives on a plate, and from the other side of the closed door, we can hear my daughter playing a wooden xylophone to her grandfather. At least, that is how I imagined this interview would take place. Instead, of course, it was through WhatsApp video calls and emails.
My mum speaks calmly and in the full, perfect sentences of an English teacher. I should say, for context, that she was born in Rhydlewis, Ceredigion; that she studied English and Spanish at Aberystwyth and completed her PhD in Comparative Literature in Edmonton, Canada. She’s an Emeritus Professor in English Literature at Cardiff University, having retired a year or so ago. As soon as she retired, she returned to university, not as a lecturer, but as a student of translation at Aberystwyth.
Before then, she had always been defined by her work, tied to her ‘research areas’ and bound by the pressures of academia. Now she’s free to explore what she loves – writing poetry and translating. She was shortlisted for the Poetry Wales poetry prize in 2019 and this year her most recent translation, Flowers of War by Llŷr Gwyn Lewis, which won the Creative Non-Fiction category of the Wales Book of the Year, has been published by Parthian.
After reading both Flowers of War and the original memoir, Rhyw Flodau Rhyfel, I had many questions about the craft and process of translation that I put to her through meandering messages that I’ve attempted to order here:
Eluned Gramich: When and how did you start translating? I know you studied Spanish and Italian at university, and have also learned German … How have these language-learning experiences fed into your translation practice?
Katie Gramich: That’s an interesting question. I think I started translating from Welsh to English and vice versa when I was very young because I had two mamgus (grannies) to whom I was quite close – one an English-speaker with no Welsh and the other a Welsh-speaker with next to no English. I learned a lot from both of them and would often carry stories from one to the other, and obviously I had to translate those stories, though I wasn’t conscious of the process of translating. In a bilingual environment, I think translation is a very natural and barely conscious process, often.
But then, in school, I did Latin and Spanish, and both languages were taught with a heavy emphasis on translating literary texts from the original language into English. I loved it. I still remember the O-Level Latin texts – Caesar’s Civil War and Virgil’s Aeneid – guess which one I preferred? Mind you, Caesar improved my English vocabulary because he was always ‘striking camp’ and shifting his ‘cohorts’ from place to place. As for Spanish, I fell in love with it (helped by a fabulous teacher, L. J. Williams) and I still remember the texts we translated, such as Cuentos americanos de nuestros días and the mesmerising Don Segundo Sombra by the Argentinian writer, Ricardo Güiraldes.
Once, at school, we had a student teacher for Spanish; she marked my translation and said that my word for the Spanish ‘mierda’, namely ‘excrement’, was much too formal for the context; she said that it should have been ‘shit’. I remember being mortified that she said such a bad word aloud in class! But I also learned something about translating the right register from that embarrassing episode.
The weekly translation exercises continued when I went to university at Aberystwyth, where I moved on to translating into Spanish, a much more challenging task. I also did Italian in my first year there and we read – and translated – Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio, among other things. I remember being surprised at what a grown-up satire Pinocchio was, so I learned something about the way texts are changed, sometimes bowdlerised in translation.
Eluned Gramich: Can you tell me a bit about the process of translating Llŷr’s book?
Katie Gramich: Translating Rhyw Flodau Rhyfel – Flowers of War, in English – was quite challenging for many reasons. It’s quite a meditative, philosophical book and it has recurring images and preoccupations which I had to be careful to translate as accurately as I could. While it’s a truly international book, about travel and history, it’s also deeply embedded in Welsh culture, so I sometimes had to mediate for the English reader, who might not know a great deal about Methodist hymns, or medieval Welsh poetry. Llŷr’s sentences are deliberately very long and meandering, with complex grammatical structures, so I found myself trying to be as true to that distinctive style as possible without making the English sound too convoluted. It’s also challenging to translate the work of someone you know and admire because you feel an added pressure to try to do justice to the original language and to the person. Llŷr is from Caernarfon in north Wales, so his natural colloquial language is a bit different from my Ceredigion dialect. However, I had translated some of Kate Roberts’ work before, including Feet in Chains, so I’d ‘tuned in’ to a north Walian voice. Come to think of it, translation is a lot to do with ‘tuning in’, lowering the volume of your own natural voice and trying to let the author’s voice be heard through your mediation.
Eluned Gramich: Exactly. That ‘tuning in’ is important yet can be so challenging too, I think. Speaking of Flowers of War, it was an interesting reading experience for me, knowing you had translated it, yet also being aware of the original Welsh text in the background. Perhaps because I’m your daughter, I could hear your voice and Llŷr’s voice simultaneously. I kept wondering whether you sympathised with the narrator’s complex feelings regarding war – that tension between the desire to be part of the battle and ‘glory’, and the certain knowledge that war is a terrible thing?
Katie Gramich: Not really. I think it’s a young man’s book, quite gendered in that way.
Eluned Gramich: Yes, it seems that way to me too. Following on from that, how do you see your role as a translator? Are you creating a literary work through translation, or are you there ‘simply’ as a transformative agent, enabling communication?
Katie Gramich: Well, a bit of both. I think the enabling of communication is very important – I particularly want Welsh people who can’t read Welsh to have access to Llŷr’s work because it’s a cultural inheritance that they shouldn’t miss out on. I also want Anglophone readers everywhere to read it and realise – wow, there’s some fabulous, experimental work going on in Welsh these days! At the same time, the translated book has to stand on its own two feet, as a work of literature – if the reader is constantly aware that he/she is reading a translation, then the effort has failed.
Eluned Gramich: What was the most difficult part of the translation for you? And what was the most moving or striking?
Katie Gramich: It was all flipping difficult! I loved the poignant picture of the grandparents and the papers the tadcu had kept all these years relating to his dead brother. The way in which Llŷr shows how history is written everywhere, layer upon layer, all around us, is often dreamlike and mesmerising. I loved the trip to London and then the National Archives in Kew when he is chasing after the ghost of his great-uncle. There’s a scene in the underground station that is so atmospheric. This is my version of it:
I watched the dust and dirt swirling about before settling down once more, and I listened to the few leaves near the stairs whirling, rustling, and then lying still. The footsteps of the one or two travellers who had got off the train echoed as they made their way to the exit, and there was one other person in a long coat standing at the other end of the platform. That person coughed, and my gaze caught his as both of us looked at the information board from time to time, watching the remaining time tick away, before the next train thundered its way towards us. The rats down on the track started to scrut once more, and it felt as if the station, which had taken a breath and held it in as the train left, was now beginning to breathe again. I myself felt the same, somehow or other, as I tried to trace and track the Second World War through this city, while it persisted in slipping away from me whenever I caught hold of it. The war in all its horror had thundered through the world, and the world had held its breath. Now we who were left behind on the platform were able to start breathing again, and coughing, and listening to the dust settle, but at the same time we knew that the travellers in those carriages were racing further and further away from us, and that they would soon be at the farthest reaches of the city, at the most distant edge, and that we needed to gather every particle of dust before they reached the ground again. When the next train arrived I did not hesitate but got on it at once and found a seat …
Eluned Gramich: Thank you for that glimpse of the work … I love the way Llŷr inflates the mundane details of the here-and-now – the rat, the man coughing – so that they somehow come to symbolise these difficult ideas and feelings about historical trauma and our connection to the past … But, looking to the future, what comes after Flowers of War for you? What or who would you like to see published in Wales, either in Welsh or English?
Katie Gramich: I’ve just finished translating Llŷr’s poetry pamphlet, Rhwng Dwy Lein Dren, which I enjoyed very much. I’ve also just finished translating your book, Woman Who Brings the Rain, into Welsh. Let’s see if you like it! I’m thinking of translating some Latin American authors into Welsh but am a bit daunted by the thought of copyright issues. I did some translations of Neruda and Borges into Welsh for my recent MA in Translation, as well as Welsh versions of the contemporary German poet, Jan Wagner. Perhaps I’ll contact Wagner, since contacting a living author for permission seems less laborious than dealing with prickly and awkward authors’ estates. I think more literary works from languages other than English should be translated into Welsh – it would bring new voices, styles, and inspiration to an already very vibrant literature.
Eluned Gramich:The possibility of reading Neruda or Borges in Welsh is very exciting. I think this idea – and I think you agree – that ‘every Welsh person can speak English so why bother translating’ is misplaced, perhaps even harmful to Welsh writing … Translation can bring new styles and linguistic play – and ideas too. It’s also a question of cultural confidence, maybe. But I have a feeling we can talk about this for much longer than the confines of this interview would allow. Had this been an interview in ordinary times, the tea would have gone cold, and the biscuits eaten and I think that my daughter would have been knocking on the door by now, demanding that you sing Mynd drot drot ar y gaseg wen…
Flowers of War is published by Parthian in July and can be pre-ordered here.
The role of science in society has never been more important. Scientific perspectives are critical for understanding complex issues such as the COVID-19 pandemic, climate change, access to higher education and systemic racism.
This story also appeared in The Conversation
The Biden administration promises to “listen to the science” and “marshal the forces of science.”
But how does scientific information actually make its way from researcher to policymaker? We study the individuals and organizations that serve as intermediaries between these two worlds. After reviewing hundreds of cases, we found intermediaries not only help translate science but often facilitate two-way relationships between scientists and policymakers.
Getting knowledge to policymakers
Intermediaries are funded through many sources. They can be based at universities, nonprofit organizations or in government. Intermediaries have always existed. However, scientists, policymakers and funders are increasingly recognizing their value – and the need to professionalize their role.
Sometimes individuals or organizations naturally broker information between scientists and policymakers, even though it may not be a stated part of their job.
In Michigan, county-level intermediate school districts are governmental entities that provide administrative and instructional resources to local school districts. These administrative bodies know a lot about the school districts they serve and often function as intermediaries between local districts and researchers. For example, one intermediate school district recently provided information about a research-based literacy program to help a local school district make a curriculum decision.
Other times, intermediaries are hired as part of a project or within an organization. While a researcher can always play this role, it helps to have staff dedicated to connecting science to decision-makers. Building relationships that last takes time – and academia often doesn’t reward researchers for engaging with policy.
The Gund Institute for Environment at the University of Vermont has employed one of us as an intermediary for the past two years. The behind-the-scenes work has included tasks such as arranging for scientists to testify to legislative committees and facilitating meetings between researchers and leaders of relevant federal programs.
The work of intermediaries can have real-world impacts on timely issues, from food insecurity related to COVID-19 to water quality initiatives to charter school policies.
Two-way communication
Ideally, intermediaries help information to flow in both directions between scientists and policymakers.
For example, they may help scientists translate research about projected shifts in rainfall patterns to policymakers who need to manage a community’s limited water supply. At the same time, intermediaries may share with scientists information about the water infrastructure decisions facing policymakers. This exchange helps policymakers make informed decisions – and helps scientists produce research that addresses real-world questions and problems.
But the flow of information is rarely linear or orderly. Intermediaries need to continuously create dynamic conversations in order to generate responsive, two-way communication.
Fortunately, scientists, policymakers and funders have exhibited increased interest in this work, by creating opportunities to improve science advice in government or use research-practice partnerships in education. Such efforts enable intermediaries to facilitate ongoing two-way communication, build common ground and maintain relationships.
Trust is a key ingredient
One of the most important functions intermediaries play is to build and maintain relationships between people, in the process helping scientists become trusted sources of new ideas.
Trust is central to whether decision-makers use research evidence. While scientific credibility is important, people’s relationship with the knowledge also affects whether they decide to use it. Does a decision-maker trust the evidence? How do other pieces of information or misinformation compete with scientific evidence? And is the evidence easy to understand and compatible with the decision-makers’ values?
The reality is, even when decision-makers trust and pay attention to science, it is only one factor among many that informs policy.
During the debates about reopening schools during the COVID-19 pandemic, the evidence on viral spread in schools was incomplete. People questioned health experts and elected officials. Intermediaries brokered information on both sides of the debate, yet many competing factors, conflicting values and political interests swayed decisions.
Science alone doesn’t always show the best path forward. Public leaders still need to make decisions based on value judgments and what citizens care about. Even when people do agree about scientific facts, conflicting values can lead to disagreement and inaction.
But science intermediaries can help introduce options, expand the range of choices being considered and ensure research evidence is a part of policy debates.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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Artist, photographer and writer Alex Boyd wrote to the songwriter personally to ask for permission to use the lyrics for his song Fireflies to accompany his work in a book that will raise money for a Hebridean mental health charity.
The new book, The Broken Land, features a collection of “disorientating” images taken by Boyd after he broke his camera while walking in the Quiraing mountain range in Skye at a time when he was suffering badly from depression.
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Boyd rediscovered the images in his archives after Scotland went into lockdown last year and decide to produce a book to raise money for the Western Isles Association for Mental Health.
He wrote to Cave as he had been listening to his music at the time the images were taken on his trips to Skye and St Kilda.
The singer wrote back to Ayrshire-based Boyd almost immediately to agree to allow his lyrics to be used and adapted into Gaelic.
Mary Ann Kennedy, one of Scotland’s leading Gaelic singers and broadcasters, provided the translation for the book, which is said to depict “a world out of focus, peaks looming menacingly above the viewer”.
Boyd, who was born in Celle in Germany, was brought up in Ayrshire and studied at Glasgow University. His previous work includes a collaboration with the late Edwin Morgan, the first Scots Makar.
The Broken Land (An Tir Briste) brings together a series of images made on the Isle of Skye and the St Kilda archipelago in 2012.
The images were brought together for his new book while he was based on Skye as a Royal Scottish Academy artist-in-residence at the island’s Gaelic college, Sabhal Mor Ostaig.
Boyd said: “During that time I was going through the beginnings of a relationship break-up, suffering quite badly from depression, and was alone in the big mountains of Skye.
"I tried to get up in the hills as often as possible to help with my mental health, always taking my camera with me to document the process.
“With lockdown I could see how much people were struggling with their mental health. Having lived there for a number of years, I saw the incredible work that the Western Isles Association for Mental Health does.
The Broken Land (An Tir Briste) brings together a series of images made on the Isle of Skye and the St Kilda Archipelago in 2012.
"I remembered I had made these images and how during that time I had listened to Nick Cave’s music as I navigated the peaks and ridges and how it had helped.
"I decided to bring both elements together and wrote to Nick earlier this year to ask how he would feel about having his words included in a publication to raise money for charity, but didn’t expect to hear anything back, as I’m sure he is inundated with these kinds of requests.
"To my great surprise he got back to me within an hour, and agreed to let me use his words for free.”
Rebecca Mahony, project manager at the charity, said: “Although a definite sun worshipper, I’m a goth at heart, having experienced mental health issues stemming from my teenage years.
The Broken Land (An Tir Briste) brings together a series of images made on the Isle of Skye and the St Kilda Archipelago in 2012.
"I’m a huge fan of Nick Cave’s music and his lyrics have always resonated strongly with me.
"I’ve really enjoyed having the time to listen to his work going for my daily peat track walk during lockdown.”
Alex Boyd wrote to Nick Cave to ask permission to use his lyrics from the song Fireflies for his photography book.
Australian artist Nick Cave attends a press conference to promote his exhibition Stranger Than Kindness in Copenhagen, Denmark, on November 2, 2020. (Photo by Olafur Steinar Gestsson / Ritzau Scanpix / AFP) / Denmark OUT (Photo by OLAFUR STEINAR GESTSSON/Ritzau Scanpix/AFP via Getty Images)
Almost all the ministries of the Government of Pedro Sánchez have joined the so-called ‘inclusive language’ to endorse the peculiar poster released this week by the Ministry of Equality that leads the podemita Irene Montero And that includes that kick to the Spanish language that is the use of the non-existent word ‘todes’. It is an expression that the vast majority of Spanish ministries have assumed, even the cabinet of President Pedro Sánchez, endorsing the slogan with which Montero wants to publicize his controversial Trans Law, an initiative so erratic that it has even deserved criticism than dozens of feminist organizations for considering it “a setback and a misogynistic law.”
Two days after International Pride Day, an unofficial holiday that is celebrated worldwide on June 28, the official accounts of the different ministries of the Social-Communist Government appeared this Saturday with their logos accompanied by the traditional multicolored flag -as it is tradition that they look every year – but with a peculiar novelty. On this occasion, he was accompanied by the poster unveiled this week by the Ministry of Equality, a banner that shows off one of the preferred workhorses of the minister and partner of the former vice president and founder of Podemos, Pablo Iglesias: that of fitting the word ‘todes’ as an alternative to the masculine and feminine genders.
Thus, the poster released by Equality and now worn by almost all the ministries – at the time of publishing this news, the Ministry of Defense has not joined it – reads “Pride of all, all, all. For a feminist and diverse Spain ». On the poster appear several personalities from the struggle for rights for sexual freedom in Spain and in other countries, and the LGBTI and trans flags, which is the one with several blue, pink and white horizontal stripes. They are the same colors in which the words ‘all, all, all’ appear colored in this poster, in a clear message that is not very subliminal. This flag, in addition, has been hanging since this Friday on a balcony of the Ministry of Equality.
Coinciding with the annual Pride celebrations, Irene Montero is campaigning to publicize her own Trans Law, which has provoked the rejection of numerous feminist organizations, who regret that this initiative by Minister Podemita supposes, in reality, “a setback in the protection of of women’s rights “, and denounce that this government, which” calls itself the most feminist in history, is transforming the laws against the feminist agenda. “
Well, coinciding with the arrival of the Pride celebrations, Irene Montero has managed to get the ministries of the national government and even Pedro Sánchez’s own cabinet to join his campaign and display in their official institutional profiles the so-called ‘inclusive language’ that The minister who spoke of “son, daughter, daughter” preaches to publicize her Trans Law.
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