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English to Spanish: Spanish translation of Joyce Carol Oates' novel Bellefleur. First page. Translated for Santillana Ediciones, based in Madrid. Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English BOOK ONE
The Arrival of Mahalaleel
It was many years ago in that dark, chaotic, unfathomable pool of time before Germaine’s birth (nearly twelve months before her birth), on a night in late September stirred by innumerable frenzied winds, like spirits contending with one another—now plaintively, now angrily, now with a subtle cellolike delicacy capable of making the flesh rise on one’s arms and neck—a night so sulfurous, so restless, so swollen with inarticulate longing that Leah and Gideon Bellefleur in their enormous bed quarreled once again, brought to tears because their love vas too ravenous to be contained by their mere mortal bodies; and their groping, careless, anguished words were like strips of raw silk rubbed violently together (for each was convinced that the other did not, could not, be equal to his love— Leah doubted that any man was capable of a love so profound it could lie silent, like a forest pond; Gideon doubted that any woman was capable of comprehending the nature of a man’s passion, which might tear through him, rendering him broken and exhausted, as vulnerable as a small child): it was on this tumultuous rainlashed night that Mahalaleel came to Bellefleur Manor on the western shore of the great Lake Noir, where he was to stay for nearly five years.
Bellefleur Manor was known locally as Bellefleur Castie, though the family disliked that name: even Raphael Bellefleur, who built the extraordinary house many decades ago, at an estimated cost of more than $1.5 million, partly for his wife Violet and partly as a strategic step in his campaign for political power, grew vexed and embarrassed when he heard the word “castle”—for castles called to mind the Old World, the past, that rotting graveyard Europe (so Raphael frequently said, in his clipped, formal, nasal voice, which sounded as if it might be addressed to a large audience), and when Raphael’s grandfather Jean-Pierre Bellefleur was banished from France and repudiated by his own father, the Duc de Bellefleur, the past simply ceased to exist. «We are all Americans now», Raphael said. «We have no choice but to be Americans now».
The manor was built atop a high, broad, grassy knoll surrounded by white pine and spruce and mountain maple, overlooking Lake Noir and, in the clistance, the mist-shrouded Mount Chattaroy, the tallest peak in the Chautauquas. Its grandeur as well as its battlemented towers and walls prochaimed it a castle: English Gothic in general design, with some Moorish influence (for as Raphael stucdied the plans of innumerable European castles, and as he dismissed one architect after another, the mood of the building naturally altered), a raw rugged sprawling beauty of a kind never seen before in that part of the world.
Translation - Spanish LIBRO UNO
La llegada de Mahalaleel
Hace muchos años, en aquellos tiempos oscuros, caóticos, insondables, previos al nacimiento de Germaine (casi doce meses antes de su nacimiento), durante el transcurso de una noche del fin de septiembre, una noche agitada por vientos frenéticos, como espíritus que hubieran entrado en liza —ora con pesar, ora con ira, ora con la sutil delicadeza del violonchelo, capaz de erizar la piel de los brazos y el cuello— una noche tan sofocante y movida, tan llena de anhelos silenciados que Leah y Gideon Bellefleur volvieron a discutir en su enorme cama bañados en lágrimas, porque su amor era demasiado voraz como para ser contenido por simples cuerpos mortales; y sus palabras balbucientes, desconsideradas, angustiadas, parecían cintas de seda salvaje entrelazadas con violencia (pues cada uno pensaba que el amor del otro no era equiparable al suyo, ni nunca podría serlo: Leah sospechaba que ningún hombre era capaz de sentir un amor profundo y silencioso, como la laguna de un bosque; Gideon sospechaba que ninguna mujer comprendía la naturaleza de la pasión masculina, una pasión que podía desgarrarlo, dejarlo quebrado y extenuado, vulnerable como un niño). Fue aquella noche turbulenta, azotada por la lluvia, cuando llegó Mahalaleel a la mansión Bellefleur, a orillas del Lago Noir, donde viviría casi cinco años.
La mansión era conocida por los lugareños como el castillo Bellefleur, algo que a la familia nunca le gustó, ni siquiera a Raphael Bellefleur, que construyó la imponente mansión muchas décadas atrás gastándose casi un millón y medio de dólares, en parte para su esposa Violet y en parte como estrategia para su campaña política. A Raphael Bellefleur le ofendía e incomodaba la palabra “castillo”, que para él representaba el Viejo Continente, el pasado, el cementerio putrefacto que era Europa (así se refería al continente con frecuencia, con esa voz nasal, entrecortada y formal que parecía siempre dirigida a un gran público), y cuando el abuelo de Raphael, Jean-Pierre Bellefleur, fue expulsado de Francia y repudiado por su propio padre, el Duque de Bellefleur, el pasado dejó de existir, sencillamente. «Ahora somos todos americanos», decía Raphael. «No tenemos más remedio que ser americanos».
La mansión se alzaba en lo alto de una colina cubierta de hierba y rodeada de pinos y arces y falsos abetos. Desde allí se veía el lago Noir y, a lo lejos, Mount Chattaroy envuelto en neblina, el pico más alto de las Chautauquas. La silueta imponente y las torres almenadas anunciaban la presencia de un castillo: el estilo general era gótico inglés con cierta influencia morisca (Raphael estudiaba con afán los planos de innumerables castillos europeos mientras despedía a un arquitecto tras otro, lo que alteraba naturalmente el espíritu de la edificación), una belleza cruda y violenta en constante expansión, algo jamás visto en aquel rincón del mundo.
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With a background in language teaching, after graduating in Madrid I moved to London, where I lived for seven years and completed my MA in Bilingual Translation while working as a Spanish lecturer in Further & Higher Education.
Since then, translation has been at the core of my professional career. Literary translation is one of my passions, it was the field I chose for my MA Thesis. To my pleasure, this gave me the opportunity to academically explore the possibilities of language and develop a strong linguistic sensibility.
In "real life", I alterrnate this creative discipline with other, more technical, fields. However, I feel a strong commitment to any translation job I have in hands, for each text has its own challenges and subtleties. Through dedication and hard work, as well as my enthusiasm for this craft, I have built long-term relationships with my clients along the years, based on mutual trust and competence.
Keywords: Climate change, green economy, sustainable development, carbon-free, EC regulations, UN Agenda, European Commission, campaigns, press realeases, literature. See more.Climate change, green economy, sustainable development, carbon-free, EC regulations, UN Agenda, European Commission, campaigns, press realeases, literature, fiction, books, articles, blogs, written media, Spanish. See less.
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