Strong Verbs Are Just Better

by "bablefish offerings", do you mean we are allowed to give obviously incorrect translations, whether they be of the Engrish sort or the purely insane?

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yuhhuh :)

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I was going to leave this until tomorrow, but I want to give it now.

My militia-enlisted friend,

Egotistical ammunitions to you, but no visits from me and mum to you. For every action gestured and thumb-tacked and factually inspected, a rat. Ten musics. Ten musics for my nemisis, the squid. And esters for the nuns I love.

The fleeciest love-turtles to you. Come, Dicko [from Australian Idol], with yours the velvet mane, I would, in body, harbour. Salt them! Science I love. Volvos say this to you: “Egotistical ammunitions to you”.

I hiccup with non-viscous love. Are Nostradamus’ turret and propagated ballistics developed, and his open spiders embodied in rum without stars? Visit the pot that isn’t repugnant.

The squid venerates, with good aftershave. Aftershave of Tuna. Barbarians may be malicious imperials with no strings of love, nor secondary runts of the litter. Have musics intersect, and I will love satisfying scents.

Desperately you, my friend. Female eyes yes, seeing all women.

Two green-skinned paladins.

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I think you just out-won

ulfruna. Well done, good sir, well done.

I can tell you're a musician, too :)

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It was the Aftershave of Tuna that gave it away, wasn't it?

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yes, yes it is.

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Soldier boy,

I hope you have plenty of ammunition left. The sergeant (Mother Superior) and I won’t be able to come back for a while to restock you. Every time we come up with a plan to raid, mark it out on our map and analyse it, we find flaws. Ten-score! Ten-score times we have “fallen” to our enemy, The Squids. The nuns and monks are slowly building their stores of precious smelling salts, though.

I have enclosed a fleecy turtleneck for you. It should match your hair, but look out for lice. Salt them if you find them! Where would we be without such science? Volo wants you to know he’ll send more salt-ammo to you soon.

I seem to have picked up an STD. Are the Seer’s spires and new weaponry ready yet, and haven’t the spider-like vehicles that run on alcohol been given a star-rating yet? You should go to the bar that isn’t sleazy and filled with prostitutes.

The Squids seem to be laying their arms down in some areas, returning some of our scented oils. Fish Oils. They may be barbarians and malicious imperials with no heartstrings, but they are inferior to us. One score of concurrent raids, and we will have our scented goods back.

I am worried for you, soldier boy. Priestess will keep watch for you, so keep around women,

It would seem there is a Holy War under the sea, or between land and sea, or between land and land-posing-as-or-named-after-sea. Nuns and monks and priests and priestesses have been enlisted to recover all ester-rich goods stolen by the sea-creatures. I got the impression at first that the writter was in love with soldier boy, but... it appears not to have translated.

Therefore, I think it safe to say that this is much closer to the original text than my other transcription :D

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you are awesome :)

what are you procrastinating against?

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What? A gay boy can't just randomly cling to a female friend's blog post for days on end, translating and retranslating a single Latin love letter (I'm think) therein?

... hmmm, ok. I see your point. I have one exam, and it is Education, next Tuesday. It seems far too far away to have started preparations for it, so I haven't. Besides, after the exam, I only have one other assignment, which is a composition I have to do at uni, and I have a further week to do it. So there just seems to be too much time to be doing real work. And this is fun.

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Oh my, my little Amy,

Ego grows a moustache. My breasts are exploding stars. Hockey players eat wheat germ and talcum powder and asbestos – such erratic facts. Digimon! Digimon are nimble, with money. And an ankh loves you.

Felicitations to you. Come, velour dice of men, and bloody halberds. Salute her! She is love. As said by esoteric, volatile you: ego grows a moustache.

Sycamore trees are no longer allowed to visit. They are un-straying turrets and propagate pugnacious ballistics in Delaware, and open Nostradamus’ body-menagerie. Positively not repugnant, too.

Yes money evens out, with good Eros. The one and only Eros. Barbed wires, with mallets impervious to love, do not sing to the little people. Harbour them inside you, and they will satisfy you.

Disapparate, you, my Amy. A woman as optimum as you, a goddess,

To Brenton.

Just thought I'd give it another go :D It's fun being incorrect on purpose.

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BRILLIANT...

my latin scholar friends tell me they read this and are much amused, by the way.

also, a friend of B's apparently saw your comments either on this entry or in B's journal, i can't remember, and could tell *instantly* that your taste runs to the gentlemen.
i remember you complaining that no one notices you're gay, so thought that might please you :)

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*bows*

You know me; anything for a larf. Especially for Latin-enthusiasts :)

haha! Um, I don't know about complaining that no one notices I'm gay, but I have said that I suspect females don't always realise (with the obvious implications), and sometimes I half-jokingly suggest that maybe female-types think I'm gay while male-types think I'm straight, hence the lack of flirting aimed in my general direction (at least as far as I'm aware). And I've complained that people claim to "just know" without any reasoning sometimes, when I don't think I'm particularly camp or anything, which is, more than anything, frustrating.

However, it would seem that my tastes do not run towards the right gentlemen. That's three complete failures now. Well, one failure that ended up with us becoming even better friends, but one failure that is still confusing because he occasionally comes on to me but actually says that it means nothing (and it reeeeaaaally doesn't mean anything), and one failure-to-even-know-the-guy random. It does not bode well for the gentlemen. Perhaps they are, in fact, not gentlement.

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definitely not true gentlemen, if they are failing to appreciate your charms, m'dear David.

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*hugs*

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My sweet little Amy,

Men are their egos. It grows with each new conquest, until it bursts from their chests like a dying sun. Hardy men, the farmers and medics and builders – all are governed by this fact. And tenfold! Such truth is tenfold for the meek what it is for the rich. But this man knows not ego, merely loves you.

I would greet you. Come, chance a silent escape in the coming battle. I will honour your efforts! For you are my love. But, as said by the gods: men are their egos.

Sadly, we will no longer be able to visit the Sycamore forests. Those trees with their unbending spires that seem to scrape against the heavens, to tear them assunder, and shine devine truths of futures upon us. Trully, they, too, have beauty.

It is true that your wealth would be a gift in these hard times. However, the only gift I have sought these past months kind Cupid has already imparted. The kind cherub has given me love that shall endure even Thor's hammerstrike, love that shall not be constrictd, even by barbed wire. Take this love of mine to heart, and let it satisfy you.

Come, you, my Amy. Woman of the highest order; a goddess,

As you can see, I've taken it one step further and tried to translate the poor translation into something understandable. I wonder how closely it lines up with the original, pre-Chinese Whispers, text :P

I might do this for the other one too! :D

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you're NUTS

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I AM

but that's part of why you love me, isn't it?

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yes :D

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My millipede Amy,

Your ego is a moat. Me and mum find this quite novel. As per the gestation tactics of the aspect-ratio of erratic factions... dismiss. Dismiss nimbly, like a squid! And no more estimates.

Felicity, the animator, comes with all manner of dice and vellum, and an animal-hair beret. Sultanas for all! Scorpions diluted! So volatile, in essence. Your ego is a moat.

Hiccups visit no more. If Nostradamus predicts pugnacious ballistics delivered, oppose Nostradamus with animals! Preposterous is his repugnance!

The evening squids have erroneously been. Erroneous once! Barbara (hey, that's me!) is mainly under imperius curse, more by the nostrils, not visceral. He must interest you, with diluted satin estimates.

Desperate times, my Amy! Feminists optimise as ominous feminists!

Trust Brenton.

...

..you're right, B. Translating latin sure is hard work.

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YOU WIN. YOU WIN AWESOMELY. YOU WIN VERY MUCH.

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I need a *WINNAR* icon for moments like this. Pookie will have to do for now.

Said it before and I'll say it again, I live to please! :D

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that pookie icon is most excellent :D

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oops, spoke to soon! I think

phrasemuffin has just defeated you. Although he is cheating by means of Years Of Catholicism.

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I mention nuns and veneration once (though seperately), and you accuse me of cheating Catholicly? That's not fair :(

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it's not the nuns... it's the years of exposure to a latin-soaked liturgy and hymns and stuff :)

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I have only ever attended one mass in Latin, I will have you know. And while, yes, there is latin on certain feast days, it is not a regular thing... as far as I remember. I, personally, would have loved to have more Gregorian Chant and been to a greater number of Latin High Masses.

So there. :P No cheating on my part. I even tucked away my Latin dictionary just to be safe.

Not that real Latin has anything to do with this, I might add, and that no cheating was really possible...

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*sniff*

Well, I'm still going to cling to some Victory Points maintaining that mine came first, whatever the order of these comments might suggest to the casual browser.

SO NEENER NEENER to you, O Catholic-cheating latin-translating romantic hearted musician-muffin, your ego is no moat at all!

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no, my heart is a stonewall :P And I would like to contest such accusations of my Catholic-cheatingness further.

I would, however, make no claim on your remaining Victory Points; you have won them fair and square. Feel free to share the spotlight with me; there is plenty of room on the stage for two :)

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I did, of course, mean "no, my ego is a stonewall"

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