How to use your Google Pixel Buds to translate conversations in real time - Android Police - Translation

The Google Pixel Buds Pro and Pixel Buds A-Series are some of our favorite wireless earbuds. They're intuitive and comfortable with strong audio quality and Google Assistant support. But a lot of features aren't obvious, including real-time translation.

Google's powerful translation tools are available on recent Pixel phones, but a pair of Pixel Buds means you don't need your phone to understand other languages. We show you what this translation feature can do, how to use it, and things to be aware of.

What you need to use Google Translate with Google Pixel Buds

Google Translate is available on all Pixel Buds, but you need the following to use Google Translate:

• A Google-Assistant-compatible Android device running Android 6.0 or later
• The latest version of the Google app.
• The latest version of the Google Translate app.

Your Pixel Buds can help you:

• Translate conversations in real time.
• Translate and transcribe audio.

How to activate Conversation Mode with your Pixel Buds

Google's conversation translation feature, conversation mode, can be activated with or without Google Assistant. It doesn't matter which method you use to activate it. We show you the steps for both methods.

How to turn on conversation mode with Google Assistant

Even if you activate conversation mode with your Pixel Buds, you still need your phone to handle the translation processing.

1. Tap and hold either earbud or say "Hey Google" to activate your Google Assistant.
2. Say, "Help me speak <language>."
3. The Google Translate app opens in conversation mode on your device.

You're ready to talk. Your Pixel Buds give you a brief tutorial on using Google Translate in conversation mode. We walk you through the steps in detail later in this guide.

How to activate conversation mode without Google Assistant

You need Google Translate on your phone regardless of your chosen method. You may find it easier to skip talking to your earbuds and activate conversation mode from the Google Translate app. You don't need to take your earbuds out. They'll still pick up your voice and output translations.

1. Open the Google Translate app.
2. Tap the language name in the lower-left corner.
3. Select the language you speak.

4. Tap the language name in the lower-right corner.
5. Select the language spoken by the other person.
6. Tap Conversation in the lower-left corner of your screen.

How to translate a conversation with Pixel Buds

In conversation mode, Google Translate displays your speech in your language and the other person's language on-screen and repeats the translation in your earbuds.

1. Tap and hold your earbud.
2. Start talking while holding your finger on your earbud.
3. Remove your finger when finished.

The other person can tap and hold the Microphone button underneath their language to respond in kind.

How to translate and transcribe audio with Pixel Buds

You can translate and transcribe audio with or without Google Assistant, like in conversation mode. We recommend using this feature when listening to a single person continuously talking, like in a speech or a news report.

How to transcribe audio with Google Assistant

1. Tap and hold either earbud or say "Hey Google" to activate your Google Assistant.
2. Say, "Help me understand <language>."
3. The Google Translate app opens in transcribe mode on your device.
4. Tap Transcribe​​​​.

How to transcribe audio without Google Assistant

1. Open the Google Translate app.
2. Tap the Microphone button at the bottom of your screen.
3. Tap Transcribe​​​​.

How to use transcription mode in Google Translate

Transcription mode transcribes audio on your phone.

1. Tap the language button in the lower-left corner of your screen.
2. Select your spoken language.
3. Tap the language button in the lower-right corner of your screen.
4. Select the speaker's language.

Your Pixel Buds translate the audio in real time if it is a supported language pair.

Tips for using Google Translate with your Pixel Buds

The steps above get you started translating languages with your Pixel Buds, but you should do a few things to make the most of this feature.

Download languages for offline translation

You don't want to be caught out without an internet connection and be unable to understand anything around you. When selecting a language in Google Translate, tap the Download icon to the right of the language to save it to your phone.

Avoid using transcribe mode with multiple speakers

Transcribe mode isn't always reliable. It's best when only one speaker can be clearly heard.

Adjust touch and hold settings on your Pixel Buds

By default, your Pixel Buds are set up to activate Google Assistant when you tap the left earbud and to toggle ANC (on the Pixel Buds Pro) when you tap the right. Open the Pixel Buds app and adjust the Touch Control settings if this doesn't suit you.

Translate conversations in real time with your Pixel Buds

While your Pixel Buds don't do the heavy lifting when translating speech, you get the benefit of clear audio and a microphone near your mouth. If you're unimpressed by the sound quality of your earbuds, consider checking to see if you're getting the best fit possible, as this can make a difference.

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When Canola Was a New Word - The Atlantic - Dictionary

This is an edition of Time-Travel Thursdays, a journey through The Atlantic’s archives to contextualize the present, surface delightful treasures, and examine the American idea. Sign up here.

You can tell a lot about a cultural moment by the words it invents. New phenomena, products, social movements, and moods require new language, and an idea without a name is unlikely to stick. The job of a dictionary is to be responsive—but not too reactive—to these trends, to catalog the new ways people are talking, which of course is the new ways they’re thinking. (Among others this year: generative AI, girlboss, meme stock, doomscroll.) Language conjures moments, but it also creates them.

For about a decade starting in January 1987, this magazine’s back page belonged intermittently to Word Watch, a column by Anne H. Soukhanov. Soukhanov was then an editor of The American Heritage Dictionary, and Word Watch was a catalog of terms the dictionary’s editors were tracking for possible inclusion in upcoming editions, based on mentions in the press and pop culture—a sort of first pass at the linguistic infrastructure of tomorrow, an educated guess at how we might describe the unknowable future.

Now that we’re in the future those editors were guessing about, many of the column’s selections feel inevitable: infomercial, Astroturf, zine, NIMBY, ’roid rage, restorative justice. In January 1987, three and a half decades before we had girl dinner, the inaugural Word Watch had graze: “to eat various appetizers … as a full meal.” In October 1989, Soukhanov described in detail a new game called paintball, “dedicated players” of which were apparently called splatmasters, and in February 1991, she noted the rise of “precious language and luscious photographs used to depict recipes or meals,” which she called gastroporn (close enough). Two months later, a word to watch was canola, as in the seed that makes the oil that is almost definitely sitting in your kitchen right now, but of which, back then, “U.S. farmers [had] yet to commit themselves to extensive planting.”

Other times, Word Watch feels like a museum of bad ideas and forgotten trends, which of course is even more entertaining. In January 1988, Word Watch defined blendo as “a style of interior decoration that mixes hightech, Eurostyle, and antique furnishings into an integrated, individualistic whole.” In June 1989, there was halter-top briefs, which I regret to inform you is “a woman’s sleeveless upper garment constructed from men’s knitted, close-fitting briefs,” and which at least one fashion writer predicted would be soon be “‘seen on streets, in stores, and in shopping malls everywhere.’”

In April 1991, the column noted the possible rise of the washing emporium, “a coin-operated laundry incorporating such features as a bar, a restaurant, entertainment, a fax machine, mailboxes, a photocopier, a snack bar, a dining room, and a study area.” It cited as evidence Rutland, Vermont’s Washbucklers, whose owner was quoted in The Boston Globe and then in Word Watch saying that his business “may prove to be ‘the new social center of the ’90s.’” A personal favorite of mine is Skycar, a car-size aircraft that would purportedly fly at altitudes up to 30,000 feet and take off and land vertically, into a parking spot. It would sell for just under $1 million in 1992 dollars, but, Soukhanov noted, “the price is expected to drop as production volume increases.”

Committing a new word to the dictionary is a pretty strange act, when you think about it. So is making a magazine. Both are an attempt at describing the world at present, with only the evidence currently available, in the face of certain obsolescence. Every dictionary edition and every magazine issue is out of date shortly after it’s published; this is by design. These things are iterative, meant to be replaced by something better and newer, which of course will then be replaced, too—always never catching up. I like Word Watch for the same reason I like The Atlantic’s archives as a whole: It lays bare the messiness of trying to describe this big, weird, changing world. It’s open-minded about what the future might look like. It makes mistakes. It does its best.

Washbucklers, by the way, is still open. It has solar panels now.

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A new book examines the value of modern poetic techniques in the translation of the Bhagavad Gita? - Scroll.in - Translation

Bangalore Literature Festival via YouTube

Since the first translation of the Bhagavad Gita in 1789 by Charles Wilkins, there have been hundreds of translations into English. Some have translated the poetry of the Gita into prose, and some others have attempted metrical poetry. Whereas prose translations do not convey the delights of the original, good metrical translations have no choice but to compromise on fidelity. This is also why commentaries exist, but, they tend to be loaded with terminology and digressions, and however useful, deter the eager reader from a continuous reading of the text.

Reading the Gita is a happy afternoon project for a reader who knows Sanskrit; for a reader who does not know Sanskrit, old-style translations may not offer the same easy reading speed. The Gita is a teaching, it is not a pedantic text. Thought-provoking wordplay, connections and associations between words, and implied meanings are present throughout the seven hundred verses. Sometimes, the meaning is adequately conveyed only when you take in the suggestiveness and resonance (dhvani), characteristics of memorable poetry.

As languages, Sanskrit and English are different from each other – not just in terms of the conceptual worlds they rise from and refer to, but also in their linguistic structures, their ‘deep grammar.’ Sanskrit nouns are declined, and thus, have case endings; therefore, in a sentence, the parts of speech are made clear within the words. A simple example – in the sentence “A girl goes to school”, “girl” is the subject, and “school” is the object. In Sanskrit, the noun “girl” will be in the nominative case (prathamā vibhakti), and the noun “school” will be in the accusative case (dvitīyā vibhakti). Therefore, we may structure the sentence any which way, including “to school – goes – girl”. Now if all those components of the Sanskrit sentence (to school / girl / goes/) were written separately, in different corners of a single page, they would still make sense. In Sanskrit, we comprehend the words along with their roles in the sentence. In a Sanskrit stanza, then, what decides the sequence of words is rhythm, smoothness, or metrical considerations.

This is also why when we read Sanskrit poetry, we may begin with analysing the “prose order” (anvaya, or connections). This involves a reordering of the words in the stanza in a way that becomes easier to follow.

Such structural freedom inherent in Sanskrit composition opens up possibilities in translation via contemporary poetics. Like science, poetics has also become more developed, and today there are more resources available to writers and readers. Poetry was once an oral art, and belonged to the dimension of time. Even though manuscripts and inscriptions were used, the dimension of space arrived into everyone’s daily lives through the printing press and the printed page. Translating ancient texts is also a translation from a temporal, to a temporal and spatial medium. The line, for example, does not need to hang on for life to the left margin. Spacing and connections are available to be used if they help understanding. Here is an example:

In my translation, the has been deconstructed into the components and relationships between them. The vedantic idea of “neti” (‘not this’) is imitated. i.e., how discarding reveals the true you. You discard and you discard (what you are not) and that is how you find out who you are. It is by discarding (whatever is intransient) that “you are”. The analogy between old clothes and the old worn-out body is stacked vertically, so it is a quick and easy connection upon the page.

At this stage, Krishna is only speaking about the nature of ātman – it is that which has the body. Readers will notice that Krishna does not tell Arjuna directly – “you are ātman.” Krishna explains the concept of ātman, and without saying so, lets Arjuna realize his identity with ātman. What occurs here is an identity shift, a point that is communicated without being spelt out. Hence, my translation uses vertical as well as horizontal space, and presents the sub-text vertically – “this is who you really are.” The reader can take it in visually, even as she continues to read the line.

On the other hand, if something is really emphatic in a text, it can be spatially demarcated from the other words in the verse. Here is another example from my translation:

Arjuna uses the verb “see” – (I see, paśyāmi) – in every single stanza from stanza 11.14 to 11.19 11.19. Noticing this makes one much more aware that what is being described is a spectacle and an extraordinary sight. This is not just a description of Krishna’s viśvarūpam (universal form) – it is a description of viśvarūpa-darśaṇam (the vision of Krishna’s universal form). Hence, I extracted the verb “see” into a separate column, and relocated everything that was seen within its frame.

Excerpted with permission from Bhagavad Gita: God’s Song, translated from the Sanskrit by Mani Rao, HarperCollins India.

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Translating Corn - JSTOR Daily - Translation

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Americans call it corn. Hardly anybody else does. To most of the world, corn is maize, a word from the Taíno mahiz (as transcribed by Columbus) and Latinized to mays in the scientific binomial for the plant, Zea mays. Mahiz means “life-giving seed.” Linnaeus might have been a bit redundant with the Greek zea, which also means “life-giving,” but then maize was fundamental to the diet and cultures of the Americas. It literally was life-giving and civilization-building.

In the mid 1970s, Mazola corn-oil margarine started being advertised on television with the tagline “You call it corn. We call it maize.” The line lived long enough to be remembered by young Bart Simpson in a pinch.

The “we” in the Mazola ads were supposed to be Indigenous Americans. The pitch aimed to unite nature, naturalness, and Native authenticity, arguably in response to the cultural and political ferment sparked by the American Indian Movement. But television ads aren’t a notably accurate source for cultural or culinary or any other kind of history. As corn maven Betty Fussell writes, when Columbus “discovered” maize in 1492, the plant was known by many words in some two thousand Indigenous American languages.

“Corn,” meanwhile, comes from the German korn, which in turn is rooted in the Proto-Germanic *kurnam, a grain or seed. This old usage can still be found in “corned beef,” in which the corn-ing agents are grains of salt. “Corn” and its regional European variants came to mean cereal grains. What was grown locally was what was called corn: wheat in England, oats in Scotland and Ireland, rye in Germany. (The infamous British Corn Laws of the nineteenth century, which strangled the poor and reinforced the power of landowners, aimed to control the import of wheat, oats, and barley; maize was considered animal food.)

Foodways can be particularly reactionary, but (Euro-) Americans did finally take to corn and stick with it, both gastronomically and linguistically.

British colonists in the Americas called maize “Indian corn” and “Turkey corn.” Both “Indian” and “Turkey” connoted savagery and barbarism; Fussell notes that the Turks also associated the plant with barbarism. At first, the English wouldn’t eat this “type of inferior wheat” and “Salvage trash.” Hunger made them change their minds.

Foodways can be particularly reactionary, but (Euro-) Americans did finally take to corn and stick with it, both gastronomically and linguistically. Other English-speakers prefer “maize” to avoid confusion. Canned corn in American food relief shipments to war-shattered Europe was supposedly rejected on the grounds that it was considered to be animal fodder.

Fussell notes that there’s another factor in the American translation of maize into corn.

“In changing the meaning of the word ‘staple’ from a cereal grain to land and its cash equivalent, America’s colonists commodified the earth,” she writes.

Corn, with its “innate potential for kernel volume,” was turned into a “goldmine for the industrial age.” Factory farming and industrial food production, tied to petrochemicals and bioengineering, have turned corn into a commodity. In fact, very little corn is directly eaten by consumers, but the stuff is ubiquitous, interwoven throughout civilization. (We are all very much the children of corn.) “Anything made from a barrel of petroleum can be made from corn” proclaimed the National Corn Growers Association in 1987. The list is mind-boggling: insecticides, tires, shotgun shells, talcum powder, embalming fluid, ethanol, and so on.

“If eating food is our primary act of translation, it is also our most complexly civilized one in relating word to thing through the portal of the mouth,” writes Fussell, who has also authored The Story of Corn. Of course, you have to get that translation right. Columbus didn’t know anything about nixtamalization, the alkali-processing of corn developed over centuries by Indigenous Americans. Slaking corn with lime made available the vital amino acids corn lacks. A diet reduced to untreated cornmeal, which became a staple of the poor across Europe and Africa, results in “corn sickness” or pellagra. The disease was notably unknown to Indigenous Americans.

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The Guardian view on new dictionary words: a parlour game that can clarify a scary reality - The Guardian - Dictionary

When the Cambridge dictionary announced “hallucinate” as its word of the year this week, it was not referring to its existing definition as a human condition of “seeing, hearing, feeling or smelling something that does not exist”, but to the phenomenon of AI developing the capacity to make – or fake – things up. This is itself a somewhat hallucinatory concept, as Naomi Klein has pointed out. “Why call the errors ‘hallucinations’ at all? Why not algorithmic junk? Or glitches?” she asked. By appropriating the language of psychology, psychedelics and mysticism, she argued, the architects of generative AI had declared themselves midwives at the birth of an animate intelligence that they wanted us to believe would be an evolutionary leap for humanity.

The word of the year is a strange fixture – a parlour game crossed with a marketing opportunity that is enthusiastically played by lexicographers around the world. Anyone who remembers the Oxford dictionary’s choice for 2022 will know how outlandish the offspring can be: invited to make their own choice, 318,956 people – 93% of the overall vote – opted for “goblin mode”. Though this term (basically, slobbing out) has been around for more than a decade, its first appearance in a British newspaper, according to the research engine Factiva, was in the Observer in February last year.

In general, though, words of the year are crunched from searches on dictionaries’ own websites, revealing not only the concerns that are on people’s minds, but the ways in which they are trying to make sense of them. The new usage of hallucination illustrates a growing tendency to anthropomorphise AI technology, with risks of oversimplification and misunderstanding that have been well-documented within the academic world. But the adoption of humanising metaphors to conceptualise machines has been happening in literature at least since Frankenstein’s monster reared out of early 19th-century fiction.

This act of literary conjuring is not merely the preserve of technology. It is evident in a recent nonfiction book dealing with the other great current challenge to the collective imagination: global heating. The evidence base of John Vaillant’s Fire Weather, which won the Baillie Gifford prize for nonfiction last Thursday, is an inferno that engulfed the Canadian oil town of Fort McMurray in May 2016, driving 90,000 people from their homes.

In reaching for a language equal to the horror of the blaze, Mr Vaillant’s interviewees cite Balrog, the fire monster in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and the asteroid strike in the film Armageddon. Told by one firefighter that the blaze was like a moving animal, hunting down areas that had not yet been burned, Mr Vaillant writes that the description was not fanciful. “This was how it felt to be in the fire’s presence – a hungry and motivated adversary intent on maximum mayhem.” Intention is not normally a quality attributed to fire.

The full title of Mary Shelley’s novel is Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Written at a time of profound scientific and technological upheaval, its secondary title invoked a Greek god condemned to eternal torment for stealing the power of fire for humans. A new, or repurposed, metaphorical vocabulary is necessary to confront today’s unprecedented challenges – whether a burning world or runaway AI. We can and should quarrel with individual words.

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LA Dating Dictionary - Coveteur - Dictionary

Ghosting, zombie-ing, Caspering—there are so many nuanced terms to describe the emotional and psychological warfare of the dating scene. As a field researcher in the Los Angeles dating arena, I am here to shed light on some of the latest dating trends I’ve witnessed, endured, and inflicted on others. Below, find the most recent additions to the LA Dating Dictionary:

Ghosting (v.): Suddenly ending all communication with another person without any warning or explanation.

Zombie-ing(v.): After becoming a “ghost,” a former date will suddenly and unexpectedly come “back from the dead” in the form of a random text or DM.

Caspering (v.) a) saying something kind but straight-forward before ending communication or b) a gradual yet respectful weaning of communication before you stop speaking

Ouija Boarding (v.): Psychically contacting someone who ghosted you through candle rituals, manifesting, crystals, and tarot.

Criterion Collecting (v.): Dating people only to collect more passwords to obscure streaming services.

Soul-mating (v.): Having sex in a Kia Soul.

LAX-it (v.): Phasing out a relationship by always being “out of town.”

Getting Moby’d (n.): a) Dating someone with veganism tattoos, or b) seeing Moby pop up on Raya once a week.

Nepo daddy(n.): An industry has-been that you date for their connections.

Patty Hearsting(v.): You get so lost in a relationship that you start wearing berets.

Long-distance relationship(n.): When someone from East Hollywood dates someone in West Hollywood.

Unethical non-monogamy(n.): Dating a non-monogamous person who works at Shein.

Lesbian booty call (n.): Texting an ex, “Hey, I had a dream about you last night.”

Lea Micheling (v.): Being a theatrical woman pretending to read a book at the bar for attention.

Foster Catting(v.): When a boy who is being rehomed from his recent ex-girlfriend dates you to have somewhere to sleep.

Fuckzoning(v.): Only speaking to someone if sex is a possibility. Friendship is too intimate.

Leasing(v.): Dumping someone every time a new model hits the scene (or turns 18).

Fishfishing (v.): Posting a pic of yourself with a huge fish on your dating profile.

4100 4-1-1(n.): When you (or a friend) see someone you’re dating on a date with someone else at 4100 Bar.

Bread in captivity(n.): Hooking up with someone who compulsively makes sourdough even though the pandemic is over.

Two-Night Stand (n.): A lesbian first date.

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'YKTV' meaning: How to use the text slang (correctly) in conversation. - USA TODAY - Dictionary

Scrolling social media can sometimes feel like wading through a bowl of alphabet soup with the amount of text slang there is today. You're practically playing a game of Jumble trying to decipher each seemingly scrambled group of letters.

But there is more to these terms than meets the eye. Each has a unique meaning and usage in the realm of online communication. From "tfw" to "MBN," there's an entire dictionary of digital speech.

So, before you start drafting your next Instagram story or send off that DM, get to know the definition and how to use "yktv."

What does 'yktv' mean?

"YKTV" stands for "you know the vibe." It can be used in different ways depending on the context.

The slang term is often used to show someone is having a good time. It also can be used to express agreement with a statement. Additionally, it can be used to comment on something that is routine, mundane or normal in your day-to-day life.

"YKTV" is similar to "you know how it is" or "you know what's up."

How to use 'yktv'

Here are some examples of how to use "yktv": 

• "What do you have planned later?" "I'm headed to a concert yktv."
• "Got to wake up early for work tomorrow yktv."
• "It feels like there's something in the air." "Mercury is in retrograde, yktv."

Just Curious for more? We've got you covered

USA TODAY is exploring the questions you and others ask every day. From "How to see deleted messages on iPhone?" to "Can flamingos fly?" to "What do turtles eat?" − we're striving to find answers to the most common questions you ask every day. Head to our Just Curious section to see what else we can answer for you.

Want to learn? Catch up on more text slang explainers: 

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