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Post by herp14 on Aug 25, 2003 21:49:51 GMT -5
Hi I made a little game that it quite fun I goes like this I get a poem (for example) and then you get a internet translator translate.google.com/translate_tThen you translat you're peom from english to spanish then spanish to english and then from english to portugues then from portugues to english (or some other combonation)... by then all the meaning and grammer will be lost in the translating and u'll be left with somthing like this Sound fun ... try it and remeber to post it here (it would be cool if you could tell us from witch langueges you translated it from (if you didn't use my example)) |
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Post by Lappi on Aug 25, 2003 23:29:48 GMT -5
English:
I thought Engrish had to be used with Japanese
But I guess I was wrong
As it could be used with any language.
Engrish:
I thought Engrish I had that to be used with Japanese but I assume that I wrong age because I could be used with all the language.
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Post by crazywriter on Aug 26, 2003 1:54:49 GMT -5
I'm not good at making up short ones quickly, so I did this one I've already done:
Original:
The Wandering Leaf
What is this hell in which I live?
Does it truly deserve the title life?
Long hours I have spent
Shedding the tears of this world,
Could I but shed the pain as easily.
As the tree sheds its leaves,
So do I shed my tears.
Yet, as the fallen leaves gather at the ground,
So does the pain and sorrow build inside of me.
As the wind blows the leaves from the pile,
So do I feel left wandering
In this world of pain and hate.
I feel lost, never finding a resting place,
Like the leaf forever blown before the gale.
Even when the wind does settle,
Allowing the leaf to pause,
It will land only for a short time,
In a place it will never be welcome,
Before being blown away once more
To be dropped near a fire burning hot.
Though the fire burns bright and strong,
The leaf is not consumed by the flames,
Instead merely feeling the pain and hate
Of that which would seek to destroy it.
Blown away once more on the winds,
It is now surrounded by love,
Love that hurts more than it heals.
This lonely leaf is dropped once more,
In a place the wind believes best for it.
Yet, even among its own, there are thorns.
Hidden so only this small leaf can find them,
No one understands the pain it feels.
This insignificant leaf now longs not for friends,
But for solitude, and space to be itself.
The wind once more picks it up,
And the young leaf's wish is granted.
For now it is happy, but for how long?
Soon the winds of winter will come,
Cold and bitter to those who wander alone.
English to Portuguese.
Portuguese to English.
English to Italian.
Italian to English.
English to German.
German to French.
French to English.
English to Spanish.
Spanish to English.
Result:
Rambles of this leaf that that east hell, in which I make it alive is? Truily gains the duration of the title? You released hours I have the bottom that spold to give to return of rasgones of the superior surface of this world I to débarasser I could nevertheless, of who the pain has taste of fàcilmente. Like the free tree of the relative of the SAE, therefore that that I break of corridor him well. Nevertheless, because accumulation with the mass that satisfies goes, therefore in front of the configuration the pain and the displeasure for the ego of the internal one of the piece. Then the wind makes to him SAE of the battery, therefore that I to it think to the left who vague in that one in this pain the world and hatred. I think lost and never I discover that a place does not stop, like the leaf of the piece that is always fixed to the order before the storm. Exact, if wind, if it makes, allowing that the leaf forms a cut, that is only completed covers by the mass by a short period, in a place that is not pleasant, before the piece of fixed of the absent sound of the moment to which more than the case it is left Straits with a fire with this one is which is indicating by means of lights with pleasure. Even if fire, if the brilliance is not ustioni used and the strengths, the leaf by the flames, instead of that one the pure pain sensitivity and hatred what would prove distrugg. The eliminated fixed piece in the direction in a period that surrounds more in Zwanzigen, he he hour of the love becomes, of amors to those plate more than that he to guar. For the fall of the will only a period calms this leaf in which more, a place creates the wind for him well. Relati that adapts you, you nevertheless have spines exact to him. Dissimulates only with this small leaf, therefore to find can any you those the pain understand, that it thinks. * long little important Blatstunde east to maintain not to the friend, but affinchèsolitude and the sector to adapt. The period of the wind that plus choose more to rueber and the desire of the assigned new leaf. the concessions are awhile long happy, but during how much hour? Zwanzigen of the winter, from the cold and bitter taste comes soon only to that imprecisión.
Woah... makes even less sense than it did before... and it's even longer...
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Post by crazywriter on Aug 26, 2003 1:59:51 GMT -5
Okay, here's a happier one-a Haiku my Mom just thought up:
Original:
Happy in the sun,
Never seeing the dark night,
Always happiness.
English to German.
German to French.
French to English.
English to Portuguese.
Portuguese to English.
Result:
Happily in the sun,
the sunk night,
always of the pointer of the possibility never.
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Post by Lappi on Aug 26, 2003 8:29:29 GMT -5
English:
The Neopian Times is always entertaining,
Providing many hours of great fun for everyone.
And yet, it is very educating...
Perhaps you may learn a thing or two about Neopia from Stone's articles.
Engrish (going through a whole lot of them that I can't list because I'm lazy):
The times of Neopian are always the maintenance and the many available ones of the marks of the hours of the line deviating great for each. E however, informs very..., You can probably learn one that or two extreme Neopia of articles of the rock.
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Post by misslynx on Aug 26, 2003 9:21:38 GMT -5
Okay, I know this isn't a peom I made or anything, but it's taken right out of 'A Child's Anthology of Poetry'
Original:
I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree,
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.
'Tis who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pins afar;
That sqeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody.
The finger marks upon our door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blinds unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
That lying round you see
Are not our boots-they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.
English to french
French to german
German to english
English to italian
Italian to english
Translated:
I know a disowned small, therefore I satisfy the man like mouse, than ago the stupidity, that it is made in every house! There is nobody never does not see the relative face to them, but all for being consistent that every slab, that we break off, has cracked from the sig. Nobody. ' Tis, that it tears always our books in on, that leaves the hatch of entrebâillée, it pulls the keys of our shirts and distracted hinges far; This will of the hatch that sqeaking knarren always for the prithee, it sees them, does not leave one lubrication of the sig. Nobody to make. The characters of the barretta on our hatch from no of we are made; Not lasciamo never the blind people unclosed, on the left stretch we fanons. The ink, than never not them not backs; the packages, those, being around you see, are not our package, than all the sig. Nobody belongs.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 26, 2003 12:14:54 GMT -5
English:
I cannot write a poem so true,
As the entire set of you.
For I have not yet set free,
The feelings deep inside of me.
Until then, I feel I must,
Do the thing that is quite just.
For, my poetry is of the hells,
So I'll leave the writing to someone else.
English - German
German - French
French - English
English - Italian
Italian - English
English - Portugese
Portugese - English
English - Spanish
Spanish - English
Translation:
I cannot write therefore a poem seriously, like the total of the phrase of you. Still Liberilo, internal main pipe did not register sensitivity to me. Until this noncreeds when I who the thing that is expensive an obligation better than expert. My Poetries of infier to us is, what I leave to somebody the other exactly.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 26, 2003 13:29:40 GMT -5
Today is a gift,
That's why we call it the present
Today, it is a gift, of which it is that, we called him the gift
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Post by misslynx on Aug 26, 2003 14:45:14 GMT -5
Today is a gift, That's why we call it the present That's my fave saying! |
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Post by Torey on Aug 27, 2003 7:57:55 GMT -5
The Pterii are mischievous things, that live high up in the trees, they'll laugh as the drop an acorn, on a Neopets head as it goes by.
A stupid poem I made up.
The Pterii ploughs mischievous things, that live high up in the trees, they'll laugh the drop an acorn, on the Neopets head it goes by.
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Post by herp14 on Aug 27, 2003 21:15:37 GMT -5
ya.. here's one of my poems
Life is cruel; it’s like a swimming pool
You jump in, but then you can’t swim
You look around but there’s nobody abound
So you suffocate but there's only hate
Hate for the people who told you to dive
Even though they knew you would surly die.
english to french
french to english
english to portuguse
portugess to english
The life is cruel; is as one pool of swimming that you jumps for inside, but then you bath of cannot you look at in lathe but you do not have nobody abound thus you suffocate but hatred of hatred for the peoples only has one who had said that one to it to dive though had known surly to them would die it.
ya just case you woundering ..... I don't do "happy" poems
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Post by Princess Ember Mononoke on Aug 28, 2003 9:03:59 GMT -5
*bursts into uncontrollable laughter* |
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Post by Killix on Aug 29, 2003 21:33:36 GMT -5
Get the kids and bring a sweater
Dry is good and Wind is better
Count the years you always knew it
Strike the match go on and do it.
English - Spanish
Spanish - English
English - French
French - German
German - English
English - Korean
Korean - English
English - Japanese
Japanese - English
If it receives with the Cabritos, it spreads, it brings that the sweater it is good, it assembles, and the time the place you non- net price case sale rambling that goes, sickle you, year always in it explains many winds, those it is.
why the fail??
Oh, it's pretty messed up without all of those other languages...the same poem with just an
English - Japanese
Japanese - English
translation is:
There is a sweater which the child profit, is dried, it is good, but if it brought, as for the wind calculation you who are better than year had known always and are assault matching continuing, doing that.
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Post by Princess Ember Mononoke on Aug 29, 2003 21:47:52 GMT -5
Get the kids and bring a sweater Dry is good and Wind is better Count the years you always knew it Strike the match go on and do it. Meowth! That's an AWFUL poem!  |
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Post by Killix on Sept 1, 2003 11:42:55 GMT -5
Meowth! That's an AWFUL poem! ...No it's not. It roxxors and you know it =P |
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<---- Misty the fennec fox, thanks Sarn 
