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Translation, Interpreting, Editing/proofreading, Software localization, Voiceover (dubbing), Training
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Sample translations submitted: 1
English to Indonesian: Time Traveller's Wife - Novel General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Cinema, Film, TV, Drama
Source text - English ORIGINAL TEXT:
TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE. (novel)
PROLOGUE
CLARE: It’s hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays.
I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.
I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I’m tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that’s been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence?
Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?
HENRY: How does it feel? How does it feel? Sometimes it feels as though your attention has wandered for just an instant. Then, with a start, you realize that the book you were holding, the red plaid cotton shirt with white buttons, the favorite black jeans and the maroon socks with an almost-hole in one heel, the living room, the about-to-whistle tea kettle in the kitchen: all of these have vanished. You are standing, naked as a jaybird, up to your ankles in ice water in a ditch along an unidentified rural route. You wait a minute to see if maybe you will just snap right back to your book, your apartment, et cetera. After about five minutes of swearing and shivering and hoping to hell you can just disappear, you start walking in any direction, which will eventually yield a farmhouse, where you have the option of stealing or explaining. Stealing will sometimes land you in jail, but explaining is more tedious and time- consuming and involves lying anyway, and also sometimes results in being hauled off to jail, so what the hell.
Sometimes you feel as though you have stood up too quickly even if you are lying in bed half asleep. You hear blood rushing in your head, feel vertiginous falling sensations. Your hands and feet are tingling and then they aren’t there at all. You’ve mislocated yourself again. It only takes an instant, you have just enough time to try to hold on, to flail around (possibly damaging yourself or valuable possessions) and then you are skid across the forest-green-carpeted hallway of a Motel 6 in Athens, Ohio, at 4:16 a.m., Monday, August 6, 1981, and you hit your head on someone’s door, causing this person, a Ms. Tina Schulman from Philadelphia, to open this door and start screaming because there’s a naked, carpet-burned man passed out at her feet.
You wake up in the County Hospital concussed with a policeman sitting outside your door listening to the Phillies game on a crackly transistor radio. Mercifully, you lapse back into unconsciousness and wake up again hours later in your own bed with your wife leaning over you looking very worried.
Sometimes you feel euphoric. Everything is sublime and has an aura, and suddenly you are intensely nauseated and then you are gone. You are throwing up on some suburban geraniums, or your father’s tennis shoes, or your very own bathroom floor three days ago, or a wooden sidewalk in Oak Park, Illinois, circa 1903, or a tennis court on a fine autumn day in the 1950s, or your own naked feet in a wide variety of times and places.
How does it feel?
It feels exactly like one of those dreams in which you suddenly realize that you have to take a test you haven’t studied for and you aren’t wearing any clothes. And you’ve left your wallet at home.
Is there a logic, a rule to all this coming and going, all this dislocation? Is there a way to stay put, to embrace the present with every cell? I don’t know. There are clues; as with any disease there are patterns, possibilities. Exhaustion, loud noises, stress, standing up suddenly, flashing light—any of these can trigger an episode. But: I can be reading the Sunday Times, coffee in hand and Clare dozing beside me on our bed and suddenly I’m in 1976 watching my thirteen-year-old self mow my grandparents’ lawn. Some of these episodes last only moments; it’s like listening to a car radio that’s having trouble holding on to a station. I find myself in crowds, audiences, mobs. Just as often I am alone, in a field, house, car, on a beach, in a grammar school in the middle of the night. I fear finding myself in a prison cell, an elevator full of people, the middle of a highway. I appear from nowhere, naked. How can I explain? I have never been able to carry anything with me. No clothes, no money, no ID. I spend most of my sojourns acquiring clothing and trying to hide. Fortunately I don’t wear glasses.
It’s ironic, really. All my pleasures are homey ones: armchair splendor, the sedate excitements of domesticity. All I ask for are humble delights. A mystery novel in bed, the smell of Clare’s long red-gold hair damp from washing, a postcard from a friend on vacation, cream dispersing into coffee, the softness of the skin under Clare’s breasts, the symmetry of grocery bags sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be unpacked. I love meandering through the stacks at the library after the patrons have gone home, lightly touching the spines of the books. These are the things that can pierce me with longing when I am displaced from them by Time’s whim.
And Clare, always Clare. Clare in the morning, sleepy and crumple-faced. Clare with her arms plunging into the papermaking vat, pulling up the mold and shaking it so, and so, to meld the fibers. Clare reading, with her hair hanging over the back of the chair, massaging balm into her cracked red hands before bed. Clare’s low voice is in my ear often.
I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going, and she cannot follow.
Translation - Indonesian Time Traveler’s Wife
(telah diangkat ke layar perak)
Cuplikan terjemahan dari novel karya Audrey Niffenegger
PROLOG
Clare: sulit rasanya menjadi orang yang ditinggalkan. Aku menunggu Henry, tanpa mengetahui dimana ia berada, bertanya-tanya apakah ia baik-baik saja. Sulit untuk menjadi orang yang selalu tinggal disini. Aku menyibukkan diri. Waktu berjalan lebih cepat seperti itu. Aku pergi tidur seorang diri, dan bangun tidur juga seorang diri. Aku pergi berjalan-jalan. Aku bekerja hingga lelah. Aku menonton angin mempermainkan sampah yang tertimbun salju sepanjang musim dingin. Semuanya terlihat begitu sederhana hingga kau memikirkannya. Mengapa cinta menjadi semakin kuat bila orang yang kau cintai tidak ada disisimu?
Dulu sekali, pria pergi ke laut, dan para wanita menunggu mereka pulang, berdiri di tepian air, memperhatikan ujung horison untuk melihat munculnya setitik kapal nun jauh disana. Kini aku menunggu Henry. Ia menghilang diluar keinginan, tanpa peringatan. Aku menunggunya. Tiap detik aku menunggu, terasa seperti setahun, selamanya. Setiap saat sama perlahan dan transparan seperti kaca. Melalui setiap saat, aku dapat melihat momentum-momentum lain yang tidak pasti, berjajar, menunggu. Mengapa ia harus pergi ke tempat yang tidak dapat aku ikuti?
HENRY: bagaimana rasanya? Bagaimana rasanya? Terkadang terasa seolah-olah perhatianmu berkelana sesaat. Lalu, dengan suatu titik awal, kau menyadari bahwa buku yang sedang kau pegang, kemeja katun kotak-kotak merah dengan kancing putih, celana jeans hitam kesukaanmu dan kaos kaki merah marun dengan satu tumit yang hampir berlubang, ruang keluarga, dan teko yang hampir berbunyi di dapur: semuanya menghilang.
Kau berdiri, telanjang seperti burung penyanyi, kedua kakimu terendam dalam air es hingga ke pergelangan, dalam sebuah saluran air sepanjang jalanan pedesaan yang tidak bernama. Kau menunggu satu menit untuk melihat apakah kau akan terus membaca bukumu, kembali ke apartemen, dan sebagainya. Setelah sekitar lima menit menyumpah-nyumpan dan menggigil dan berharap kepada neraka agar kau bisa langsung menghilang, kau mulaiberjalan ke arah manapun, yang akhirnya akan menunjukkan arah ke sebuah rumah peternakan, dimana kau menghadapi pilihan untuk mencuri atau memberikan penjelasan. Mencuri terkadang akan membuatmu masuk penjara, namun memberikan penjelasan lebih membosankan dan memakan banyak waktu dan mau tidak mau berbohong juga, serta terkadang membawa kita ke penjara, jadi, masa bodoh lah.
Terkadang, kau merasa seolah-olah kau telah berdiri terlalu cepat walau kau sedang setengah tertidur di ranjangmu. Kau mendengar darah mengalir di kepalamu, merasakan sensasi sakit kepala karena jatuh. Tangan dan kakimu bergetar dan lalu tidak terasa sama sekali. Kau salah menempatkan dirimu lagi. Hanya perlu sekilas, dan kau mempunyai cukup waktu untuk mencoba berpegangan, untuk melambai ke sekeliling (mungkin merusak dirimu sendiri atau barang-barang berharga disekitarmu) dan lalu kau mendapati dirimu sedang meluncur melintasi ruang depan berkarpet hijau daun dalam Motel 6 di Athena, Ohio, pukul 4:16 pagi, Senin, 6 Agustus 1981, dan kepalamu menabrak pintu rumah orang, menyebabkan orang tersebut, seorang Nona Tina Schulman dari Philadelphia, membuka pintu rumahnya dan mulai berteriak karena melihat seorang pria telanjang berselimut karpet, pingsan di kakinya.
Kau terbangun di Rumah Sakit Daerah setempat dengan seorang petugas polisi duduk diluar pintu kamarmu, mendengarkan pertandingan Phillies dari radio transistor rusak. Untungnya, kau segera jatuh tak sadarkan diri kembali, dan bangun berjam-jam kemudian di tempat tidurmu sendiri dengan istrimu memperhatikanmu dari dekat, kekhawatiran tampak di wajahnya.
Terkadang kau merasakan euforia. Segala sesuatunya terlihat luar biasa indah dan memiliki aura, dan mendadak kau sangat pusing dan tiba-tiba kau menghilang. Kau muntah menimpa suatu tumbuhan geranium pedesaan, atau sepatu tenis ayahmu, atau lantai kamar mandimu sendiri tiga hari yang lalu, atau jalan trotoar kayu di Oak Park, Illinois, sekitar tahun 1903, atau sebuah lapangan tenis pada suatu hari musim gugur yang indah di tahun 1950an, atau diatas kaki telanjangmu sendiri di beragam tempat dan waktu.
Bagaimana rasanya?
Rasanya persis seperti salah satu mimpi dimana kau tiba-tiba menyadari bahwa kau harus menjalani ujian dan kau belum belajar sama sekali, dan kau tidak memakai baju sama sekali. Dan dompetmu tertinggal di rumah.
Apakah ada logika, aturan untuk semua kejadian datang dan pergi ini, semua gangguan ini? Apakah ada cara untuk tetap tinggal, untuk merangkul saat ini dengan setiap sel dalam tubuhmu? Aku tidak tahu. Ada petunjuk; seperti halnya dengan penyakit apapun, ada pola, kemungkinan.
Kelelahan, suara-suara keras, tekanan, berdiri mendadak, cahaya kilat—semuanya dapat memicu munculnya babak baru. Tapi: aku bisa saja sedangmembaca Koran Sunday Times, memegang secangkir kopi, dan Clare tertidur disampingku diatas ranjang kami, dan mendadak aku berada di tahun 1976 melihat diriku sendiri pada usia 13 tahun sedang memotong rumput kebun kakek-nenekku. Beberapa babak ini hanya bertahan beberapa saat: seperti mendengarkan radio mobil yang rusak dan tidak dapat bertahan di satu saluran radio. Aku menemukan diriku sendiri dalam kerumunan orang, penonton, gerombolan penjahat.
Sama seringnya dengan aku sendirian, di lapangan, rumah, mobil, di pantai, di sekolah pada tengah malam hari. Aku takut melihat diriku sendiri dalam sel penjara, di dalam lift penuh orang, di tengah-tengah jalan bebas hambatan. Aku tidak datang dari mana-mana, telanjang. Bagaimana caranya aku menjelaskannya? Aku belum pernah dapat membawa benda apapun denganku. Tidak ada pakaian, tidak ada uang, tidak ada identitas diri. Aku menghabiskan waktu perjalanan singkatku untuk mencari pakaian dan bersembunyi. Untungnya, aku tidak pakai kacamata.
Ironis, memang. Semua kesenanganku berpusat di rumah: kursi megah yang indah, ketenangan suasana rumah yang menyenangkan. Aku hanya ingin kesenangan yang sederhana. Membaca novel kisah misteri di atas tempat tidur, aroma rambut merah-emas Clare yang panjang dan masih lembab habis dicuci, kartu pos dari seorang teman yang berlibur, krim yang dituangkan dalam kopi, lembutnya kulit dibawah payudara Clare, simetri kantung belanja diatas meja dapur yang menunggu untuk dibongkar. Aku sangat suka berjalan mengelilingi tumpukan buku di perpustakaan setelah para pengunjung pulang, dengan ringan menyentuh kerangka-kerangka buku-buku itu. Semuanya itu adalah hal-hal yang dapat menusukku dengan rasa rindu, saat aku dipisahkan dari mereka oleh dorongan Sang Waktu.
Dan Clare, selalu Clare. Clare di pagi hari, mengantuk dan berwajah kusut. Clare dengan kedua lengannya di dalam wadah pembuat kertas, menarik adonan dan mengaduknya terus, dan terus, untuk mencampur serat-seratnya. Clare pada saat sedang membaca, dengan rambutnya terjurai di belakang kursi, memijatkan balsam ke tangan-tangannya yang pecah-pecah dan memerah, sebelum pergi tidur. Suara rendah Clare begitu sering terdengar di telingaku.
Aku benci berada di tempat yang berbeda dengannya, di waktu yang berbeda dengannya. Dan tetap saja, aku selalu pergi, dan ia tidak dapat mengikutiku.
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Years of experience: 20. Registered at ProZ.com: Jan 2014.
Adobe Acrobat, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Photoshop, Dreamweaver, Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Office Pro, Microsoft Word, Pagemaker, Powerpoint
Bio
I’m an aspiring career woman who thrives for more international exposure and enhancements, and is well-equipped with:
• Highly exceptional proven strength and ability in translation and interpretation from English to Indonesian language, and vice versa, with details:
o Vast experience in 10 years of constantly translating variety of documents;
Books; fictional to non-fictional;
User guides, user manuals, handover documents, analysis documents, technical information system and project management documents (also creating them).
Information technology papers and bodies of knowledge,
Formal documents (formal director letters, business letters and alike), and
Technical documents in many disciplines:
Medicine, science, engineering, law, philosophy, economy, art, history, music, mechanics and any other fields you can think of.
o Vast experience in years of interpretation jobs – from formal discussion in a fully-business atmosphere to non-formal – casual talk environment, to on-stage interpretation for seminars and events. Also master of ceremony experience and capability in both English and Bahasa Indonesia.
• Five (5)-years experience as English Teacher and trainer/tutor of English for high school students and college students, both in-house and classroom, held by Lembaga Bahasa LIA (Indonesian American Language Insitution)
Deep I.T. background and expertise that will be a great background for translation & interpretation as well, in:
• I.T. Project Management, Program Coordination, Documentation in English and Indonesian Language, Business Analysis, I.T. System Implementation, and native-speaking English in the field of I.T/computer science.
• Particular strengths in:
o Project management, team leadership, coordination and documentation.
o Communication in English both written and verbal.
o Customer relationship and client management.
o I.T. business solution analysis, business process observation & analysis, and compliance of company SOP.
o Presentation, intensive reporting and documentation; and design.
o Interpersonal and intrapersonal skills.
• Intensive practical and theoretical knowledge in:
o Logistics/ Supply Chain business process and its I.T. strategy and implementation.
o Warehousing and inventory management business process for retail, principle and third party logistics, and their I.T. strategy and implementation.
o Airline business process (reservation, flight dispatch, airplane maintenance) and its I.T. implementation.
o Banking business process (compliance, fraud management, anti-money laundering, card system, core banking, e-banking) and its I.T. implementation.
o ERP system business process for all modules – finance, human resources, procurement, material management, sales, billing & order management.
Experience in SAP usage in the material management and logistics usage.
Experience in ERP implementation in the airlines industry.
Keywords: computer, information technology, documents, books, fictions, novels, movie scripts, literature, children books, science-fiction. See more.computer, information technology, documents, books, fictions, novels, movie scripts, literature, children books, science-fiction, medical journal, design documents, technical documents, project documentation, user guide, manual, law, art, science, textbooks, history, mathematics, chemistry, physics, archaeology, non-fiction, psychology, music, magazine, newspapers, live interpretation, personal interpreter.. See less.
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