When I suggested the need for Nostradamus to be examined in an amphibological manner, through
the only way that makes that possible, literal translation, I was publicly ridiculed. When I say publicly,
I mean in front of the gang in the clubhouse at the We Say We Research Nostradamus Club. The
leader of this gang (a celebrity of sorts in the Nostradamus TV pundit world) heard my suggestion
and responded with something like, "Well, well, well gang. It seems we have another idiot who
thinks anyone can translate Nostradamus by looking up each word in a French-English dictionary. It
looks like its time once again to read Little Red Riding Hood, to prove how stupid that idea is."
The leader then went on to post this for all to read (which I will edit for space purposes):
the only way that makes that possible, literal translation, I was publicly ridiculed. When I say publicly,
I mean in front of the gang in the clubhouse at the We Say We Research Nostradamus Club. The
leader of this gang (a celebrity of sorts in the Nostradamus TV pundit world) heard my suggestion
and responded with something like, "Well, well, well gang. It seems we have another idiot who
thinks anyone can translate Nostradamus by looking up each word in a French-English dictionary. It
looks like its time once again to read Little Red Riding Hood, to prove how stupid that idea is."
The leader then went on to post this for all to read (which I will edit for space purposes):
Well, folks, there are some people here who still imagine that
literal, word-for-word translation will give us a faithful and true
rendering of exactly what Nostradamus wrote.
OK, let's put it to the test, shall we?
Here is an OCR of the story 'Little Red Riding Hood' in the original
French 1697 version by Charles Perrault:
-------------------------
(I have omitted the French text, simply to save space. E-mail me if you need to
read the 1697 French version. I will be glad to send it to you.)
-----------------------
Right, now we all know what that says, don't we? It says exactly the
same to every French-speaking child as it has always said in English
to every English-speaking child. So translating it literally, word-for
word, should give exactly the same, faithful rendering of 'Little Red
Riding Hood', shouldn't it?...
OK, here is the literal, word-for-word, mechanical translation of it:
(I am minimizing the font for space purposes)
literal, word-for-word translation will give us a faithful and true
rendering of exactly what Nostradamus wrote.
OK, let's put it to the test, shall we?
Here is an OCR of the story 'Little Red Riding Hood' in the original
French 1697 version by Charles Perrault:
-------------------------
(I have omitted the French text, simply to save space. E-mail me if you need to
read the 1697 French version. I will be glad to send it to you.)
-----------------------
Right, now we all know what that says, don't we? It says exactly the
same to every French-speaking child as it has always said in English
to every English-speaking child. So translating it literally, word-for
word, should give exactly the same, faithful rendering of 'Little Red
Riding Hood', shouldn't it?...
OK, here is the literal, word-for-word, mechanical translation of it:
(I am minimizing the font for space purposes)
'He was one time a small girl of village, the more pretty which one
had known to see: his/her mother of him/her/it was insane, and her
mother-large more insane still. This good woman to him/her/it made
make a Little Riding Hood Red which to him/her/it suited so well, that
everywhere one him/her/it called the Little Riding Hood Red.
'One day, his/her/its mother having cooked and made of the
girdle-cakes, to him/her/it said: "Go to see how goes your
mother-large, because one me has said that she was sick. Carry to
her/him/it a girdle-cake and this small pot of butter." The Little
Riding Hood Red left at once to go to his/her/its mother-large, who
lived in an other village. In passing in a wood, she met accomplice
the Wolf, which had well wish him/her/it to eat; but it/he did not
dare, at cause of some woodcutters who were in the forest. It to
him/her/it asked where she went. The poor child, who not knew not that
it/he was dangerous to stop to listen a wolf, to him/her/it said: "I
go to see my mother-large, and to him/her/it to carry a girdle-cake,
with a small pot of butter, that my mother sends to him/her/it. --
Lives she well far? to him/her/it said the Wolf. -- Oh! yes, said the
Little Riding Hood Red; this is by beyond the mill that you see all
over there, at the first house of the village. -- Eh well! said the
Wolf, I want him/her/it to go to see too; I myself there from
it/her/him go by this path, and you by that path; and we will see to
whom earlier there will be."
'The Wolf started to run of all its force by the path which was the
more short, and the small girl herself from it/him/her went by the
path the more long, herself/himself/itself amusing to gather of the
hazel nuts, to run after the butterflies, and to make of the bouquets
of the small flowers which it/she met. The Wolf was not a long time to
arrive at the house of the mother-large; it knocks: knock, knock -- "
Who is there? -- This is your girl, Little Riding Hood Red, said the
Wolf in counterfeiting his/her/its voice, who you brings a girdle-cake
and a small pot of butter, that my mother to you sends." The good
mother-large, who was in her bed, because that she was a little badly,
to him/her/it shouted: "Pull the small peg, the wooden door-latch
will fall." The Wolf pulled the small peg, and the door opened. It
itself threw on the good woman, and her devoured in less than nothing,
because that it there had more than three days that it/he not had
eaten not. Next it/he closed the door, and itself/himself went to go
to lie in the bed of the mother-large, in waiting for the Little
Riding Hood Red, who, some time afterwards, came to knock at the door:
knock, knock: -- "Who is there?" The Little Riding Hood Red, who heard
the large voice of the Wolf, had fear at first, but, believing that
its/her mother-large was encolded, answered: "This is your daughter,
the Little Riding Hood Red, who to you brings a girdle-cake and a
small pot of butter, that my mother you sends." The Wolf to
him/her/it shouted in softening his/her/its voice a little: "Pull the
small peg; the wooden door-latch will fall." The Little Riding Hood
Red drew the small peg, and the door opened.
'The Wolf, it/him/her seeing entering, to him/her/it said in itself
hiding in the bed, under the cover: "Put the girdle-cake and the small
pot of butter on the bread-bin, and come you to lay down with me." The
Little Riding Hood Red him/her/itself undresses, and goes
it/him/herself to put in the bed, where she/he/it was well astonished
to see how its/her/his mother-large was made in its/her/his stripped.
She to him/her/it said: "My mother-large, that you have of large arms!
-- This is for better you to kiss, my daughter! -- My mother-large,
that you have of large legs! -- This is for better to run, my child!
-- My mother-large, that you have of large ears! -- This is for better
to listen, my child! -- My mother-large, that you have of large eyes!
-- This is for better to see, my child! -- My mother-large, that you
have of large teeth! -- This is for you to eat! " And, in saying these
words, this naughty Wolf itself threw on the Little Riding Hood Red,
and it/her/him ate.'
had known to see: his/her mother of him/her/it was insane, and her
mother-large more insane still. This good woman to him/her/it made
make a Little Riding Hood Red which to him/her/it suited so well, that
everywhere one him/her/it called the Little Riding Hood Red.
'One day, his/her/its mother having cooked and made of the
girdle-cakes, to him/her/it said: "Go to see how goes your
mother-large, because one me has said that she was sick. Carry to
her/him/it a girdle-cake and this small pot of butter." The Little
Riding Hood Red left at once to go to his/her/its mother-large, who
lived in an other village. In passing in a wood, she met accomplice
the Wolf, which had well wish him/her/it to eat; but it/he did not
dare, at cause of some woodcutters who were in the forest. It to
him/her/it asked where she went. The poor child, who not knew not that
it/he was dangerous to stop to listen a wolf, to him/her/it said: "I
go to see my mother-large, and to him/her/it to carry a girdle-cake,
with a small pot of butter, that my mother sends to him/her/it. --
Lives she well far? to him/her/it said the Wolf. -- Oh! yes, said the
Little Riding Hood Red; this is by beyond the mill that you see all
over there, at the first house of the village. -- Eh well! said the
Wolf, I want him/her/it to go to see too; I myself there from
it/her/him go by this path, and you by that path; and we will see to
whom earlier there will be."
'The Wolf started to run of all its force by the path which was the
more short, and the small girl herself from it/him/her went by the
path the more long, herself/himself/itself amusing to gather of the
hazel nuts, to run after the butterflies, and to make of the bouquets
of the small flowers which it/she met. The Wolf was not a long time to
arrive at the house of the mother-large; it knocks: knock, knock -- "
Who is there? -- This is your girl, Little Riding Hood Red, said the
Wolf in counterfeiting his/her/its voice, who you brings a girdle-cake
and a small pot of butter, that my mother to you sends." The good
mother-large, who was in her bed, because that she was a little badly,
to him/her/it shouted: "Pull the small peg, the wooden door-latch
will fall." The Wolf pulled the small peg, and the door opened. It
itself threw on the good woman, and her devoured in less than nothing,
because that it there had more than three days that it/he not had
eaten not. Next it/he closed the door, and itself/himself went to go
to lie in the bed of the mother-large, in waiting for the Little
Riding Hood Red, who, some time afterwards, came to knock at the door:
knock, knock: -- "Who is there?" The Little Riding Hood Red, who heard
the large voice of the Wolf, had fear at first, but, believing that
its/her mother-large was encolded, answered: "This is your daughter,
the Little Riding Hood Red, who to you brings a girdle-cake and a
small pot of butter, that my mother you sends." The Wolf to
him/her/it shouted in softening his/her/its voice a little: "Pull the
small peg; the wooden door-latch will fall." The Little Riding Hood
Red drew the small peg, and the door opened.
'The Wolf, it/him/her seeing entering, to him/her/it said in itself
hiding in the bed, under the cover: "Put the girdle-cake and the small
pot of butter on the bread-bin, and come you to lay down with me." The
Little Riding Hood Red him/her/itself undresses, and goes
it/him/herself to put in the bed, where she/he/it was well astonished
to see how its/her/his mother-large was made in its/her/his stripped.
She to him/her/it said: "My mother-large, that you have of large arms!
-- This is for better you to kiss, my daughter! -- My mother-large,
that you have of large legs! -- This is for better to run, my child!
-- My mother-large, that you have of large ears! -- This is for better
to listen, my child! -- My mother-large, that you have of large eyes!
-- This is for better to see, my child! -- My mother-large, that you
have of large teeth! -- This is for you to eat! " And, in saying these
words, this naughty Wolf itself threw on the Little Riding Hood Red,
and it/her/him ate.'
Then, with his pointless story told, the wonder-leader returned from his copy-and-paste toolbox to
write these closing remarks:
write these closing remarks:
----------------------------------
So there you are. Literal, word-for-word translation can
obviously be
relied on absolutely to give a true, faithful and representative
version of an original foreign-language text -- such as
Nostradamus's,
for example.
Er ... can't it?
Read it to your kids. They'll be delighted!
Er... won't they? ;)
So there you are. Literal, word-for-word translation can
obviously be
relied on absolutely to give a true, faithful and representative
version of an original foreign-language text -- such as
Nostradamus's,
for example.
Er ... can't it?
Read it to your kids. They'll be delighted!
Er... won't they? ;)
The "winky face" at the end was such a nice touch, I began using it after each point I made back to
him. After that barrage, the "winky face" gloves came off. ;)
Since I did not read this inane response, I simply told this idiot leader to send me a French version
of Le Mort d'Arthur, book 1, chapters 5 and 6 specifically. I told him Little Red Riding Hood was
too violent for my tastes. However, I loved to read the story of a boy who could easily pull a sword
from a stone, when no one else could. That is a perfect bedtime story. Unfortunately, my request
was ignored or overlooked.
The argument against a literal translation is only proven by a comparison of another fable to the
Little Red Riding Hood translation above. A comparison to The Prophecies is comparing apples
to oranges. Obviously, the story he recited was written in French, with syntactical meaning
applied in the wording. One can only translate such syntax appropriately by applying the same
meaning, so that the essence, not the literal, is conveyed into a foreign language, as English
certainly is. However, Nostradamus was not written in the same syntactical style. That is why
people have tried for 450 years to constantly turn nonsense into nonsense, by repeatedly trying to
put a square peg in a round hole.
Other than the comment about a story that has a theme of an untrained, inexperienced, and
unqualified boy (the suggestion to read Le Morte d'Arthur), which was me suggesting I was able
to do what skilled linguists have failed to do for so long, I did not focus on the smoke and mirror
trick of the leader, and run off crying (arguing) about Little Red Riding Hood. Instead, I introduced
the arguments of in solute oratione and n'amphibologique, which supported my claim that a
literal translation was the only way to make sense from nonsense. However, the insults continued
to be their defense, which is typical of close-minded secret groups, when logic questions flawed
premises. In the end, I was evicted and had my clubhouse privileges rescinded. But then on the
other hand, they know nothing more now than they did before, which is the greater loss.
In one last exchange of sarcastic comments, I asked this grand poopah leader where I could send
his three gold stars for outstanding achievement recognition. I asked if he was still living on the
flying island of Laputa. I recommend you look that one up and read about that one travel of
Gulliver's. You will easily be able to see the comparison intended.
him. After that barrage, the "winky face" gloves came off. ;)
Since I did not read this inane response, I simply told this idiot leader to send me a French version
of Le Mort d'Arthur, book 1, chapters 5 and 6 specifically. I told him Little Red Riding Hood was
too violent for my tastes. However, I loved to read the story of a boy who could easily pull a sword
from a stone, when no one else could. That is a perfect bedtime story. Unfortunately, my request
was ignored or overlooked.
The argument against a literal translation is only proven by a comparison of another fable to the
Little Red Riding Hood translation above. A comparison to The Prophecies is comparing apples
to oranges. Obviously, the story he recited was written in French, with syntactical meaning
applied in the wording. One can only translate such syntax appropriately by applying the same
meaning, so that the essence, not the literal, is conveyed into a foreign language, as English
certainly is. However, Nostradamus was not written in the same syntactical style. That is why
people have tried for 450 years to constantly turn nonsense into nonsense, by repeatedly trying to
put a square peg in a round hole.
Other than the comment about a story that has a theme of an untrained, inexperienced, and
unqualified boy (the suggestion to read Le Morte d'Arthur), which was me suggesting I was able
to do what skilled linguists have failed to do for so long, I did not focus on the smoke and mirror
trick of the leader, and run off crying (arguing) about Little Red Riding Hood. Instead, I introduced
the arguments of in solute oratione and n'amphibologique, which supported my claim that a
literal translation was the only way to make sense from nonsense. However, the insults continued
to be their defense, which is typical of close-minded secret groups, when logic questions flawed
premises. In the end, I was evicted and had my clubhouse privileges rescinded. But then on the
other hand, they know nothing more now than they did before, which is the greater loss.
In one last exchange of sarcastic comments, I asked this grand poopah leader where I could send
his three gold stars for outstanding achievement recognition. I asked if he was still living on the
flying island of Laputa. I recommend you look that one up and read about that one travel of
Gulliver's. You will easily be able to see the comparison intended.
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