Not that it really matters, but mariposa by itself does not (as far as I know) mean moth, a word that is usually covered by polilla. A moth can be referred to as a mariposa nocturna, but mariposa by itself is just a butterfly. It's far too pretty a word to be a moth!

Lordy - mine do!

Clothes in, detergent in, press the tit and the machine fills. Then the inner drum slowly spins. Up to the top they all go, then tumble down past the glass. Admittedly they don't really whirl till the drum speeds up to empty the suds, but for a long time they dance, turning and turning in the bubbling gyre.

Trust me; I don't have television. And I don't get out much.


Editing back to say that the above refers to Cathy's post on the previous page (#20) and has to do with laundry rather than lepidoptera. Bob and I cross-posted.

Hey Bob! I'm gonna sic the Moth Anti-Defamation League on you!

http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb2...othra_2004.jpg

Well, I did as I often do when following up a hunch. I went to the English section to see what "Butterfly" resp. "moth" would translate as in Spanish.

"Moth" translates as "mariposa" f. And the expression "like moths around a flame" translates to "como las mariposa alrededor de la luz". So I think we can safely say that "mariposa" is sometimes "moth" and sometimes "butterfly".

"Palomila" is a clothes moth, you know that dines on woolen things, but there are other kinds of moths as well.

I will be the first to admit that it is pure speculation on my part that the poet was influenced by the Montale poem. But poets being whom they are, I would be surprised if there isn't a connection, an association that would be recognized by those "in the know".

bolas de la polilla (naftalina)

I don't know about Chile, but in Uruguay one never calls a butterfly a polilla or a polilla a butterfly. A polilla is a moth, and we pronounce is po-LEE-shah.

Wow, Janice's political interpretation blew my mind. I still don't know what to make of this poem. It's a little zoom-lens snapshot that could mean nearly anything in context. As such, it seems to me that translation is particularly tricky, and I feel a vague dissatisfaction as others have mentioned with the flatness of phrases like 'in the water and suds'. But this is a poem that will stick with me somehow.

As I said, I'm not crazy about the poem, but whatever merits it does have - mainly sonic, IMO - fail to come through in the translation. For me this raises the issue, how much can you rely on a translation when you don't know the original? Which of course, is the crux of translation. Because after all, isn't it the translator's responsibility to capture that elusive element – the poetry that, as Robert Frost says "gets lost in translation" – and bring forth the spirit of the original to those who couldn't read it otherwise. I'd be curious what others think, although maybe this is a topic for another thread.

That said, this poem seems to me virtually impossible to translate. I myself wouldn't touch it with a 10 foot fabric softener!

I would love to learn more about this poem and its poet. Cathy?

http://www.scielo.cl/scielo.php?pid=...pt=sci_arttext

http://romancelanguages.missouri.edu/people/leal.shtml