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25 Finnish idiom games

Though the languages we use may differ, the things we try to express are similar. Idioms are present in all languages, but most of the time our choice of words differs widely. Understanding an idiom requires more than just an understanding of the words. Below you will find 25 Finnish idioms and their literal English translations. See how many meanings you can guess with just the literal translation. The answers are found at the end of the article.

 

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Reflexiones en bilingüe.

Siempre fui buena para el inglés. Digo siempre, porque de aprenderlo tengo solo vagos recuerdos. Uno de ellos: la profesora en primero de básico perdiendo la paciencia con un, “That’s enough! Please leave the classroom, Victoria,” y yo confundida, sin entender. Se me debe de haber quedado grabada la vergüenza de tener que escucharla repetirlo en español, así como mis compañeros giggling in the background. Otro recuerdo, ligado también a la vergüenza: cuando la misma profesora me hizo leer un pasaje del textbook pese a mis protestas (“Pero miss, ¡no sé leer en inglés!”). ¿Me habré prometido entonces que iba a llegar a dominar ese idioma de haches sonoras y erres azucaradas? Puede ser, porque por esos días le prometí a mi papá sonriente y a mí misma que algún día estudiaría en la prestigiosa University of Oxford. Ahora me doy cuenta que, desde un comienzo, mis mayores ambiciones tasted like English.

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Sexual Protocol In An American College / Protocolo sexual de un College Americano

When we landed in this vast continent of hamburgers in which the five cent coins are bigger than the ten cent ones, nobody told us how we would feel when sleeping with an American boy. We were told about the classes, the cultural shock and the free food in the dining halls. But they missed one of the largest and most mysterious issues in a society that I both love and question. And it was not until I heard things like, “I had sex with someone last night” when I started to question it. Remember the word “someone”.

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20
Jan

…ערד מאמע / Mother Earth…

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!מאמעס פון מעמא אונדזער,ערד מאמע

בערזעלדער ליבע דער מיט ברוסט ןייד פון    

כאמעס און צדיקים,קינדער נערסטו  

– ,קעלבער הייליקע און רוצחים נערסטו

     …פיס מיט דיך טרעט  וואס ,עדעי הבריא

.זיס אלעמען פאר איז מילק דיין און

————————————– 

Mame erd, undzer mame fun mames!

Fun dayn brust mit libe derzelber

Nerstu kinder, tzdikim un chames,

Nerstu roitzchim un haylike kelber,–

Iede briah, vos tret dich mit fis…

Un dayn milch iz far alemen zis.

————————————————

Mother Earth, our mother of mothers!

From your breast with the same love

You nourish children, the righteous, and brutes,

You nourish murderers and the holy calf, –

Each creation that walks upon you with feet…

And your milk is, for all men, sweet.

Written by Mani Leib, 1917, English & Portuguese by Joseph Heller

Photo Credit: Eliza Jaeger

20
Jan

दो ज़माने, एक कप चाय / Two Generations, One Cup Chai

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 दादाजी और उनके पोते के बीच में वार्तालाप

 A Conversation between a Grandfather and his Grandson

“वह थे दिन, जब इस देश की मिटटी

शहीदों की यादों से चमक उठी थी ।

आज कल तोह आग कहाँ ?

दिया भी नहीं जलता । “

 

“क्युंकी उस दिये की ज्योती से याद आती है

वीरों की खाक

लोगों की जुदाई

गोलियों की बौछार

एक मुल्क का बटवारा ।”

 

“तुम नासमझ हो बच्चे,

हमारे ज़माने में

इस देश के इतिहास को अपनाना

हमारा फर्ज़ था

और हम गर्व से निभाते थे । “

 

“हम कहाँ पीछे है?

हम उनकी शहीदी को

आज़ादी बुलाते है

खून – खराबा  नहीं । “

 

“फिर तुम भारत को कैसे अपनाओगे

इस  खून का इतिहास

इस धरती के हर कण में बसा हुआ है । “

 

“दादाजी, इस धरती में खून के आलावा

अमन की आशा भी जुडी हुई है

और शांति का दिया

हम जलाएँगे । “

 ——————————————-

“Those were the days, when the soil of this land,

Was lit with the memories of our martyrs.

Nowadays there is no fire

Not even a candle is lit.”

 

“Because the flame of that candle reminds us of

The ashes of war

The displacement of people

The rain of bullets

And a divided nation.”

 

“You don’t understand, child,

Back in my time

Owning the history of our country

Was our responsibility

And we upheld it with pride.”

 

“But we aren’t far behind either.

We call their martyrdom

Independence

Not bloodshed.”

 

“But how can you belong to an India

Whose every grain of sand

Is embedded with that blood?”

 

“Grandfather, there is more than blood

In these grains of sand

There is hope and peace

And we will light that candle.”

by Jiya Pandya 

Photo Credit: http://mjr.earthbalancenatural.com/indian-masala-chai-tea-recipe/

20
Jan

Projet de loi : Qu’en penserait Voltaire / Project of the King: What We Think of Voltaire

Un jour, L’Ingénu se trouvait assis à sa table de petit déjeuner, lorsque sa femme, la belle Saint-Yves, lui a apporté le journal.  (Il était très heureux et soulagé que sa belle femme ait recouvert de sa dépression.)  Quand il a vu le titre de l’article  « Vrai combat, idées fausses » sur la première page du journal, et qu’il a lu la première ligne blasphématoire, L’Ingénu a laissé tomber son verre de jus d’orange, et a crié à haute voix.  En voyant la surprise de son mari, la belle Saint-Yves regardait le journal et disait d’une voix banale et indifférente: « Ah, si, j’ai entendu parler de cette nouvelle douloureuse. »

L’Ingénu ne savait quoi dire.  Il connaissait désormais les méchancetés du monde dans lequel il vivait.  Depuis son aventure et son emprisonnement, le monde lui « par[ait] trop méchant et trop misérable » (91), et alors, cette nouvelle tristesse ne le surprenait pas trop.  « C’est entièrement inexcusable les choses qui se passent dans ce pays.  Je sais qu’en mon pays d’origine on ne ferait jamais cela.  On avait le droit de porter ce qu’on voulait, et à faire ce qu’on voulait faire. »  L’article décrivait une nouvelle loi que le gouvernement venait d’adopter.  Il s’agissait de la question des burqas et des niqabs.  Le Parlement français avait décidé d’interdire aux citoyens de porter ces vêtements dans l’espace public.  La frustration de L’Ingénu se voyait sur son visage, qui était tout rouge.  Il pensait à son arrivé en France, et à comment Mlle de Kerkabon l’avait traité.

« Mais, elle était très tolérante! » supplia la belle Saint-Yves.

Il semblait, tristement, que la belle Saint-Yves avait oubliée la majorité des morales qu’elle avait apprises pendant ses aventures en sauvant son amour.  Les psychologistes croyaient que c’était parce qu’elle avait opprimé tous les souvenirs associés avec l’horrible Saint-Pouange (dont on ne murmurait pas le nom dans la maison).  Elle était désormais un modèle parfait de Mlle de Kerkabon.

« Je le jure, mais quand même, elle était très choquée par ce que je portais et comment je parlais.  On le voyait sur son visage.  Elle avait de la difficulté à m’accepter comme j’étais.  Il fallait même que je me baptise ! Tu te rappelles de cela ? »  Penser au baptême et aux troubles qui en résultaient faisait trembler L’Ingénu.

« C’est vrai, » continuait L’Ingénu, « que je me suis accoutumé à l’idée d’une nouvelle vie, mais pensez-y un moment.  Quand ils m’ont déclaré qu’ils désiraient me baptiser, j’ai dit que ‘la proposition ne me plaisait point de tout, et la loi des Hurons valait pour le moins la loi des Bas-Bretons’ »  (50).  C’était seulement au fur et à mesure qu’il avait accepté de se convertir.  Il se rappelait comment il a dévoré le Nouvelle Testament.  Peut-être que ces femmes auraient une même réaction au nouvelle loi, il se demandait.  Ensuite, il considérait tous les troubles qui avaient été causé par sa conversion.  Il avait été toujours incapable de réellement abandonner sa culture.  Il résolu que ces femmes subjugués seraient comme lui aussi.

—————————————————————————-

One day, the Ingenu found himself sitting at his breakfast table, while his wife, the beautiful Saint-Yves brought him the newspaper. (He was extremely happy and relieved that his beautiful wife had recovered from her bout of depression).  When he saw the title of the paper’s headline article “Real combat, false ideals,” and having read the first blasphemous phrase, the Ingenu let slip his glass of orange juice, and let out a cry.  Upon noting the surprise of her husband, the beautiful Saint-Yves looked at the newspaper and said with a tone of banality and indifference: ‘Oh, yes, I heard about this unfortunate news.”

The Ingenu didn’t quite know what to say.  He knew well the coldness of the world in which he lives.  Ever since his adventures and imprisonment, the world appeared to him “too mean and too miserable,” and therefore, this new sadness couldn’t surprise him too much.  “The things that occur in this country are entirely inexcusable.  We should have the right to wear what want, and to say what we like”; the newspaper article in question addressed a new law which the government had recently adopted.  It related to the question of burqas and niqabs.  The French Parliament had decided to forbid its citizens to wear these clothes in the public space.  The Ingenu’s frustration was evident in the redness of his complexion.  He thought back to his own arrival in France, and how Mlle de Kerkabon had treated him. “But she was tolerant, herself!” supplied the beautiful Saint-Yves.

It seemed, sadly, that the beautiful Saint-Yves had forgotten the majority of the morals which she had learned during her own adventures with her paramour.  The psychologists believed that she had begun repressing all her memories associated with the awful Saint-Pouange (the name was never even mentioned in the house).  She had henceforth become an ideal model for Mlle de Kerkabon.

“I don’t deny that, but even so, she was so shocked by what I wore and by how I spoke.  You could see it on her fact.  She had such difficulty in accepting me the way I was.  I was forced to be baptized.  Do you remember? “  Thinking about the baptism and to the troubles which resulted made the Ingenu tremble.  “Its true,” he continued, “that I grew accustomed to the idea of a new life, but think on it a moment.  When they declared to me that I was to baptized, I said that ‘the proposition didn’t please me at all, and the law of the Hurons nevertheless applied to the land of the Bas-Bretons’”.  It had only been at length that he had accepted the conversion.  He recalled how he had then devoured the New Testament.  Maybe such would be the case for these women, he asked himself.  But then he considered all the trouble which grew out of his conversion.  He had always been somewhat incapable of truly abandoning his original culture.  He resolved therefore that these women would likewise be subjugated.

by Cyrus Jalai

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Photo Credit: Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voltaire

20
Jan

Chanson D’Automne / Song of the Night

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La nuit souffle

Elle m’ouvre

            Elle chante

Le vent est frais

Et il me plaît

            Et me hante

La brise danse Aucune chance

            De la pluie

L’air est aride

Le ciel est vide

            Cette nuit

Rester par terre

Rien à faire

            Que rêvesr

Insidieux

Les mauvais cieux

            Charbonnés

——————————————-

The night whistles

And she tickles

            And she sings

The wind is fresh

Kisses my breath

            Dark hauntings

The breeze will dance

There is no chance

            It will rain

The air is dry

Empty the sky

            Starless reign

I’m on the ground

Nothing’s around

            But these dreams

The evil skies

Make me say lies

            I don’t mean

by Edward O’Brien, modeled after “Autumn Song” by Paul Verlaine  

Photo Credit: hdwallpapers.in

20
Jan

ታንጉት ዘነበ ደግፌ / When I was a Little Girl

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ታንጉት ዘነበ ደግፌ

                                                                            ጥቅምት 15/2006

ትውልዴማ ከዛ ነበር ከታች ከገደሉ

ከአረንጓዴው ውበት፣ከተፈትሮው

ከዛፎቹ መሃል ከዎንዙ ከአፋፉ::

ታዲያ ገና ተወልጄ ደንቦሽ ደንቦሽ ዳዴ ከመልመዴ  

ከተማ ስለሚሉት አለም ተአምር ሰምቼ

“ከተማ መማር ነው፣ መማርም መለወጥ” ዪሉትን አምኜ

ሄድኩ ከከተማው  እንደ ወፍ በርሬ

የትውልዴን ነገር ችላ ዘንጋ አድርጌ።

“የማያውቁት ሃገር አዪናፍቅም” ሲባልማ አውቅ ነበር

መች ትርጉሙ ገባኝና በፊት ልቤ ሳዪደነብር

ታዲያ ጊዜው አልፎ ነገሮችን ማስተዋል ስጀምር

ከጀርባዬ የተውኩት የተፈጥሮ ጸጋ፣ የሰው ደግነት፣

የልጅነት እኔነቴ በህልሜ ሲዟዟር

ተረዳው ጠንቅቄ የከተማን ጉድለት፣ የገጠሩን ማማር::

ምን ዪሉት ከተማ? ምን ይሉት መለዎጥ?

የምን ትምህርት በጎ? የምን ማዎቅ እድገት?

የሰው ልጅ አእምሮን ተፈጥሮን ቀዪሮ

ተራራውን በፎቅ፣ ፈረሱን በመኪና

የጨረቃን ብርሃን በመብራት ቀዪሮ

የነበረን ሰውሮ ያልነበረን ፈጥሮ

ደስታን በሃዘን ሰላምን በስቃይ

ጦርነትን ከግፍ  ጭካኔን  ኣብዝቶ

እኛኑ ሲገርፈን ሰላማችን ገፎ

“ምቾት” እንላለን ዪህን የከተማ ሂዎት

እራስ ወዳድነት ችግር የበዛበት።

እኮ! ከተማውም በዝቶ ኖዋሪዉ ሲንጋጋ

በቁጥራችን ብዛት ልክ ተንኮላችን በዝቶ እራስ ከራሳችን  በነገር ሲአዋጋ

ዘመኑስ “ለውጥ” ነው መች ያልጠፋ አለና

እንኳንስ ተፈጥሮው አረንጓደዴው ምድር፣ በgreed በተንኮል በምኞት ተውጠን

እኛውም ጠፍተናልና ከማንነታችን  “አሜን ተመስገንን” ሰላምን ዘንግተን።

 ————————————————————

When I was a little girl, I played with little stones

Sitting in the field among the flowers,

Singing with the birds and talking with the ants.

I would gaze at the mountains rising before me;

I would stare at the trees and the blowing wind;

I would walk into the forest as I danced and sang;

I would smell fresh air and play with flying leaves.

I would feel mesmerized by the sound of raging rivers;

I would enjoy the beauty of nature–

The blue, the yellow, the red, the brown,

The sparkling sunlight from morning to dusk.

It was beautiful, it was serene,

The natural gift, the purely green.

When I was a little girl,

I only knew the exotic side of mother earth–

The plants, the insects, the animals, the birds;

The beauty of nature, the goodness of humankind.

No curiosity, no need for change;

No want for desire, no room for greed.

People lived as if nature was all that mattered;

As if what nature offered was enough;

As if honesty and kindness, caring and humbleness,

Happiness and thankfulness were the ultimate principles.

But now…

I am no longer a little girl, I have grown.

I no longer live at that place, so well known.

I live in a villa, in a huge city,

I go to school burning with curiosity

About myself, others, and nature;

About what exists and what does not;

About what has been done and what must still come.

I see not mountains but buildings,

I smell not fresh air but poisoned gas,

I see not animals but cars and humans,

I hear few greetings and peaceful words.

But alas, this is the change that we strived for day and night.

We destroyed what existed and we invented what did not.

While trees are gone, rivers have dried;

Global warming and climate change are what remain.

We quarrel over them crazed with stress.

And so we have also changed to the extreme–

Kindness and honesty, humbleness and peace vanish;

We harm one another and yet we fight in the name of peace;

We lie, we deceive, we take and we traumatize;

We discriminate each other based on our differences.

And as the sun rays begin to fade, when all is still, and all is silent,

We even escape from our own shadow, lost in fear and agony.

We’ve destroyed the tranquil nature, altering how life should be.

by Tangut Degfay 

Photo Credit: Hewan, “Hagere” 

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