For the love of language(s)

I love language, but I also love languages. I always thought that I would learn a lot of them, and well. I haven't gotten very far. I haven't gotten far at all.

But I had this great idea, I thought, for learning Italian. I'd found a couple of (mostly) cooking blogs, Cuoche dell'altro mondo and Un Tocco di Zenzero, and I thought that I could learn some Italian by translating these blogs. If not a whole blog post, at least the recipe.

Some of it can be figured out in context. A lot of it, not so much. Tonight, I finally broke out the Italian/English dictionary my son gave me last Christmas.

What is OMG in Italian?

I was lost immediately, so I skipped the introductory text and went straight to the recipe. In terms of translation, I still became lost quickly. I probably could cook it, minus a couple of ingredients, but I couldn't begin to tell you accurately what it means.

I need to try again, or I need to find another way to learn Italian.

Found in translation

I've been reading some poems by Norwegian poet Paal-Helge Haugen, translated by Roger Greenwald. The book, Wintering with the Light, is presented as a bilingual edition, which means I can stumble over the Norwegian (almost all of which is way beyond me) and then read the English translation.

This one, especially, resonates.

(Lean in)

I lean in over the edge of you
You lift a hand
You sign a word
in the almost enclosing silence
of the evening, where sounds live
before they lock into phrases

Later the last trace of twilight
comes down from the hills
The dusk we know
That has lived in us always
That is folded into us

It brings a limit for our eyes
A space for our thoughts
It meets us halfway
and receives what we have in our hands

Shostakovich, String Quartet No. 8

—Paal-Helge Haugen