Twinkling With Inheriting and Development Achievement

On Thursday night my landlady called and asked if she could come over to see me because she had some tranlation questions for me.  Anyone who’s been in China for awhile knows the fear and dread that well up inside at the sound of someone asking for help with translation work.  "Just read it over."  "It won’t take long."  Those words are always prelude to hours of painful and laborious mental gymnastics trying to translate phrases like the one in the title of this post from what we call "Chinglish" to English.

My landlady and her husband have their own business producing publicity and promotional materials for schools in China.  With English as popular as it is here, these materials (from DVD’s to brochures) must all be in English as well as Chinese, never mind the fact that very few native speakers will actually see or read them.  Iin the China of 2005, one simply cannot produce something like this without any English in it.  My landlady out-sources the translations to professionals; however, there are times when, for some reason, she doubts the accuracy of the transations, so asks me to look at them to see if the English makes sense and if it indeed accurately reflects the Chinese meaning.

Yesterday she had one such project for me.  That noise you heard eminating from the western side of Beijing on Friday was the sound of cultures and languages clashing!  An interesting feature of Chinese discourse is the use of poetic and flowery language in nearly every conceivable context, formal and informal.  A language that has been around for 3000 years has quite the collection of poetry, expressions, and idioms, and they are all to be used as much as possible. 

The sentence that is the title of this post is merely an extreme example.  The document we worked on had line after line after line of such sentences, and I was supposed to see if they were OK.  After awhile, one of two things happens.  Either I read a sentence and decide it makes perfect sense (a sure sign that I have been in China way too long) or I have to attempt to convince her that it is impossible to translate such a sentence.  In fact, after yesterday, I think there should be a law against translating such sentences.  When I read it in Chinese, it makes perfect sense, but there’s no way to get it into an English sentence that both maintains the poetry and has meaning.  Take your pick, Mrs. Li.  You can’t have it both ways!  Ah, but you see, in Chinese, they do have it both ways, because poetic language is not only permissible in formal writing, it is expected, for it is one of the main ways to demonstrate that one is a literate and cultured person. 

After my brain was fried trying to disentangle that mess of a sentence, we sat back and discussed the cultural differences.  I explained to her that it was so difficult because in English we have different sets of rules for business writing than for essay writing.  Poetic and creative language can be used in essays, but not in business writing.  Therefore, when translating such pieces I may be able to come up with some suitable English words that approximate the meaning, but their presence in such a formal setting is completely unacceptable.  Translating such a sentence is nearly impossible because it will never come out in a manner that suits both sides.  If the Chinese person insists that the emotional language remain, than it will be gibberish in English.  If the English speaker wins, then the Chinese will feel like the translation isn’t close enough to the original (and they’d be correct, of course).

In the course of the conversation, I learned the distinction between two Chinese words for written text:  wenzhang and wenjianWenzhang is the word for essays or articles of a literary nature.  Wenjian is the word for formal documents, like something a boss or leader might hand down to his/her underlings. Wenzhang demands emotional and flowery language.  Wenjian is cold and impersonal, and implies authority, command, and distance.  Poetic language is not used in wenjian.

Aha!  I said to her.  That’s the problem.  To Chinese, a brochure like this is considered a wenzhang.  In English, it would be considered a wenjian.  Finally a breakthrough in understanding (for both of us)….why the languages were clashing.  In her mind what we were translating was a wenzhang and in my mind it’s clearly a wenjian.  Finally she understood.

Wenzhang, Wenjian, …..let’s call the whole thing off!

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