Page 1: introduction

Some remarks on the Moment (of translation)


Lost in translation. That makes you tired.

Who hasn't had this happen to them - a translation in a hurry and quickly using the Google translator...
An endless loop - something else always comes out. Nothing really hits what you want to say - nothing hits the core message.

Yes, the core. Let us talk about the key message.

What did you actually want to say again? That, too, is already gone. What did I actually want to express?

The core message of this year's Festival's Moto gets to the heart of the problem: we are all overloaded, overcharged. Too many thoughts - too many images in our heads. Our mind can no longer process them. The head eats itself up. Maybe I gave him this job - out of sheer desperation. But that is actually no longer important. The process of self-dissolution is already in full swing.

I eat my head.
This is the state of complete overload, of confusion, of not being able to classify.
I, my mind, my heart, my head, even my stomach can no longer process - translate - all the impressions of the world.

And more and more are being added. More and more messages that have a clear instruction to me. More and more responsibility, more and more decisions, more and more urgent.

So what remains of my head when I have eaten it?

But language is the tricky:

Before devising, your chicken you do not have to count.
As for the penny which is rescued it is the penny which is obtained.
The girl and the spice has become entirely from the splendid sugar.
The boy has consisted of the tail of the slug and the snail and the puppy.
As for the place of the woman there is a house.
One basket your egg everything does not have to be made.
The idiot hurries being about you fear because the angel steps on.
Your cake cannot do possessing and is eaten thing.
There is no wastefulness, unless so is, we want.
The safe which is better than regrettable.
Living, you have lived, permit.

Bevor Sie Ihr Huhn erfinden, brauchen Sie nicht zu zählen.
Was den Pfennig betrifft, der gerettet wird, ist es der Pfennig, der erhalten wird.
Das Mädchen und das Gewürz ist ganz aus dem prächtigen Zucker geworden.
Der Junge hat sich aus dem Schwanz der Schnecke und der Schnecke und dem Welpen zusammengesetzt.
Was den Platz der Frau betrifft, so gibt es ein Haus.
Ein Korb deines Eies alles muss nicht gemacht werden.
Der Idiot beeilt sich, um dich zu fürchten, weil der Engel auftritt.
Dein Kuchen kann nicht besessen werden und wird gegessen.
Es gibt keine Verschwendung, es sei denn, so ist, wir wollen.
Das Sichere, das besser ist als das Bedauernde.
Leben, das du gelebt hast, erlaube.

Peter Pereira, "Lost in Translation" from What's Written on the Body (Copper Canyon Press, 2007).