Né v'chîn tchiquechose pouor la Journée Întèrnâtionnale d'la Translâtion (ou la Journée Întèrnâtionnale d'la Traduction, ou d'la Vèrsion...). Ch'est un brouoillon d'eune vèrsion Jèrriaise d'la poésie The Jumblies d'Edward Lear. Ch'n'est pon finni et y'a des lîngnes tchi sont un mio à la frouque pouor achteu. Nou-s'est d'avis d'poster la dreine vèrsion un co qu'ou s'sa ag'vée, et nou pouôrrait ofûche y trouver d'l'întéthêt en compathant les vèrsions et l'travas du translateux.Here's something for International Translation Day: Les Jobelîns presented here is a work in progress, a Jèrriais version of Edward Lear's Poem The Jumblies. It's not yet complete and before it gets finally published, hopefully the dodgier lines will have been tidied up (or improved out of all recognition). A few translator's notes: the verb jobelinner means to wobble and the sound and presumptive meaning of the invented name Jobelîns gives some sort of echo of Jumblies; craîncheux is sieve but, being two syllables and a crunchier sound than the softer sieve, poses some problems for scansion and sound-feel - perhaps sais might work better; Lear's perennial "pea-green" isn't easy to convey without lengthy periphrasis, and trying to retain the tobacco-pipe mast has required some inelegant replacement elsewhere; a pin-based play on words has been added to make sense of the foot-wrapping; there's a bachîn instead of a gong; the crockery-jar at the moment is cruche ou pot - not an attractive solution, might have to change - unfortunately cruchot means a small boat so that's out; the cranberry tart has turned into a vraic bun - much more Jèrriais, makes a good rhyme, and anyway cranberries are rather obscure; the bees aren't silvery as there's no room in the line for an adjective; the monkey with sweets for paws has turned out nicely (that was one of the starting points of the translation); Stilton's turned into Brie; have you ever noticed that the fifth verse has one less line than the other verses?
Les Jobelîns
I' fîtent vaile dans un Craîncheux, ma fé,
Un Craîncheux 'tait lus baté:
En faîthant du fanne d's avis d'lus anmîns,
En Hivé, par un bein rude matîn,
Lus Craîncheux s'en fut en mé!
Et quand lus Craîncheux fut jotchulé,
Et un châtchun dit, "Ou s'sez touos nyés!"
I' briyîtent, "Not' Craîncheux est p'tit.
Mais v'là tch'est tout bein, faut s'en fichi!
Chu Craîncheux est not' baté!"
Bein au liain, bein au liain,
Les Jobelîns ont lus siez-ieux,
Auve lus vèrtes têtes et lus bliues mains,
I' fîtent vaile dans un Craîncheux.
