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Sin telaraña en las pupilas: "Frases de Oliverio Girondo" » Spanish to English

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Source text in Spanish

- «Aspiramos a ser lo que auténticamente somos, pero a medida que creemos lograrlo, nos invade el hartazgo de lo que realmente somos».

- «Los únicos brazos entre los cuales nos resignaríamos a pasar la vida son los brazos de las Venus que han perdido los brazos».

- «Una luz sin fuerza para llegar al suelo ribetea con tiza las molduras y las aristas de las casas, que tienen facha de haber dormido mal, y obliga a salir de entre sus sábanas a las nubes desnudas, que se envuelven en gasas amarillentas y verdosas y se ciñen, por último, una túnica blanca».

- «Jamás existirán caballos capaces de tirar un par de patadas que violenten, más rotundamente, las leyes de la perspectiva y posean, al mismo tiempo, un concepto más equilibrado de la composición, que el par de patadas que tiran los heroicos percherones de Paolo Uccello».

- «Nada ansío de nada, mientras dura el instante de eternidad que es todo, cuando no quiero nada».

- «Aunque se alteren todas nuestras concepciones sobre la Vida y la Muerte, ha llegado el momento de denunciar la enorme superchería de las "Meninas" que —siendo las propias "Meninas" de carne y hueso— colgaron un letrerito donde se lee Velázquez, para que nadie descubriera el auténtico y secular milagro de su inmortalidad».

- «La disección de los ojos de Monet hubiera demostrado que Monet poseía ojos de mosca; ojos forzados por innumerables ojitos que distinguen con nitidez los más sutiles matices de un color pero que, siendo ojos autónomos, perciben esos matices independientemente, sin alcanzar una visión sintética de conjunto».

- «El cúmulo de atorrantismo y de burdel, de uso y abuso de limpiabotas, de sensiblería engominada, de ojo en compota, de rebote y de tristeza sin razón —allí está la pampa... más allá del indio... la quena... el tamboril— que se espereza y canta en los acordes del tango que improvisa cualquier lunfardo».

- «Los cubistas salvaron a la pintura de las corrientes de aire, de los rayos de sol que amenazaban derretirla pero —al cerrar herméticamente las ventanas, que los impresionistas habían abierto en un exceso de entusiasmo— le suministraron tal cúmulo de recetas, una cantidad tan grande de ventosas que poco faltó para que la asfixiaran y la dejasen descarnada, como un esqueleto».

- «Los bustos romanos serían incapaces de pensar si el tiempo no les hubiera destrozado la nariz».

There were 26 entries submitted in this pair during the submission phase.

Entries submitted in this pair were rated on a per-segment basis. Listed below are all submitted translations of each individual source text segment.

Submitted segment translations

Translations submitted for each source text segment are listed below. Segments have had surrounding punctuation stripped, and the resulting identical segments have been grouped together, so each listed translation should differ, but the difference may be subtle (eg. internal punctuation or diacritics).

Viewing segment # out of 10

Source text segment #1

- «Aspiramos a ser lo que auténticamente somos, pero a medida que creemos lograrlo, nos invade el hartazgo de lo que realmente somos».
Rank by:
+9 | -1
In search of our true selves, we are disgusted at what we finally find.
+2 | -1
The more you search for your inner being, the more you get sick of yourself.
A lengthy way to say what the author meant.

- نطلّع الى أن نكون ما نكون في الحقيقة، ولكن في أثناء أن نتعقد أننا حصلنا عليه فيقتحمنا تعب ما نكون في الحقيقة.
-2
We want to be our authentic selves but as we get to know ourselves we get sick of what we find.
-4
aplica para todos nosotros como seres humanos que deseamos llegar a ser o hacer algo y antes de culminar somos vencidos por diferentes aptitudes y/o actitudes que tomamos al ser enfrentados ante situaciones adversas al fin que nos movía.

Translations of this segment (26 total; 26 unique)

We aspire to become that which we truly are, only to be overcome, the nearer we come to achieving it, by the sheer tedium of what we really are
We aspire to be our authentic selves, but the moment we begin to believe we have achieved this we become surfeited with that which we truly are
We strive to be our true selves, but just as we think we are getting there, we find we have had more than enough of who we really are
We aspire to be what we genuinely are, but as we attain to it, we are invaded by the glut of who we actually are
We aspire to be what we truly are, but as achievement seems near, we become increasingly fed up with who we really are
We aspire to be who we truly are, but to the extent that we believe we are doing this, we are invaded by the surfeit of who we really are
We aspire to be our authentic selves, but even as we think we are achieving this, the crushing sense of who we truly are creeps in
We aspire to be what we genuinely are, but the closer we think we are to achieving it, the more we are overcome with the surfeit of what we really are
We aspire to be what we genuinely are; but just as we think we are getting close, the overwhelming realisation of who we actually are assaults us
We aspire to be what we authentically are, but as we come to think that we have succeeded, we are overwhelmed by the satiety of what we really are
We aspire to be what we’re meant to be; but just when we think we’re there, we become fed-up with what we really are
We aspire to being what we truly are but, just as we think we are succeeding, we are invaded by a sense of boredom at what we really are
We long to be what we genuinely are, but as we believe to succeed, we are invaded by the weariness of what we really are
We all hanker to be what we truly are, but as we believe achieving it, get us boredom of what we really are
We aspire to become what we truly are underneath and, yet, as we draw nearer to this aspiration, we feel overwhelmed by the sheer weariness of what we really are
We aspire to be as we authentically are, but while believing that we are getting there, we are forcefully invaded by the recognition of what we really are
We aspire to be what we authentically are, but to the extent that we believe that we have achieved that goal, we are overwhelmed by being fed up with what we truly are
We aspire to be what we truly are, but when we believe we have achieved this, we are overwhelmed by the boredom of what we really are
We aspire to be what we truly are, but just as we seem to come close, we are overcome by nausea at what we really are
We apsire to be what we authentically are, but as we come to think we have acheived this, we are invaded by the fullness of what we truly are
We aim at becoming what we truly are, but, as we do so, we get fed up by our real selves
It’s our longing to become our true selves, but as we believe achieving it we get overwhelmed by the surfeit of what we really are
We aspire to be what we truly are, but when we think we are making it, the feeling of satiety of what we really are invades us
We aspire to be what we authentically are but, as we believe we succeeded in being it, we become overwhelmed by the surfeit of what we truly are
We aspire to be what we genuinely are, but, as we think we succeed, we are filled with the surfeit of what we in reality are
We aspire to be what we truly are, but as we believe we can achieve it, the annoyance of what we really are invades us
Viewing segment # out of 10