{"id":1874,"date":"2025-07-02T14:14:21","date_gmt":"2025-07-02T13:14:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.whs-blogs.co.uk\/linguistica\/?p=1874"},"modified":"2025-07-02T14:17:41","modified_gmt":"2025-07-02T13:17:41","slug":"anthea-bell-prize-for-young-translators-year-10-entries","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.whs-blogs.co.uk\/linguistica\/2025\/07\/02\/anthea-bell-prize-for-young-translators-year-10-entries\/","title":{"rendered":"Anthea Bell Prize for Young Translators – Year 10 entries"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Christina (Y10) has outstandingly been selected as the National Winner of the Anthea Bell Prize for Young Translators, for her translation of the Level 3 Chinese set text.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christina’s translation: <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Xu Sanguan was a worker at a silk mill in the city. One day, he returned to his village to visit his grandpa. His grandpa’s vision had worsened with age, and he could no longer see Xu Sanguan’s face clearly at the door. So, he called him over, looked at him for a while, and asked: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“My son, where is your face?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Xu Sanguan replied: “Grandpa, I’m not your son – I’m your grandson – my face is right here.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Xu Sanguan took his grandpa’s hand and touched it to his own face for him to feel, then quickly let go. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His grandpa asked: “Why doesn’t your dad come to see me?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He passed away a long time ago.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His grandpa nodded. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“My son, is your body strong?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“It is.” Xu Sanguan said, “Grandpa, I’m not your son\u2026” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But his grandfather continued, “My son, do you often sell your blood?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Xu Sanguan shook his head. “No, I never sell my blood.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“My son\u2026” his grandpa said, “You don’t sell your blood, and you still say you are strong? My son, you are lying to me.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Competition text: <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u662f\u57ce\u91cc\u4e1d\u5382\u7684\u5de5\u4eba\uff0c\u8fd9\u4e00\u5929\u4ed6\u56de\u5230\u6751\u91cc\u6765\u770b\u671b\u4ed6\u7684\u7237\u7237\u3002\u4ed6\u7237\u7237\u5e74\u8001\u4ee5\u540e\u773c\u775b\u660f\u82b1\uff0c\u770b\u4e0d\u89c1\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u5728\u95e8\u53e3\u7684\u8138\uff0c\u5c31\u628a\u4ed6\u53eb\u5230\u9762\u524d\uff0c\u770b\u4e86\u4e00\u4f1a\u540e\u95ee\u4ed6\uff1a <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u6211\u513f\uff0c\u4f60\u7684\u8138\u5728\u54ea\u91cc\uff1f\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u8bf4\uff1a\u201c\u7237\u7237\uff0c\u6211\u4e0d\u662f\u4f60\u513f\uff0c\u6211\u662f\u4f60\u5b59\u5b50\uff0c\u6211\u7684\u8138\u5728\u8fd9\u91cc\u2026\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u628a\u4ed6\u7237\u7237\u7684\u624b\u62ff\u8fc7\u6765\uff0c\u5f80\u81ea\u5df1\u8138\u4e0a\u78b0\u4e86\u78b0\uff0c\u53c8\u9a6c\u4e0a\u628a\u7237\u7237\u7684\u624b\u9001\u4e86\u56de\u53bb\u3002 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u4ed6\u7237\u7237\u95ee\uff1a\u201c\u4f60\u7239\u4e3a\u4ec0\u4e48\u4e0d\u6765\u770b\u6211\uff1f\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u6211\u7239\u65e9\u6b7b\u5566\u3002\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u4ed6\u7237\u7237\u70b9\u4e86\u70b9\u5934\u3002 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u6211\u513f\uff0c\u4f60\u8eab\u5b50\u9aa8\u7ed3\u5b9e\u5417\uff1f\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u7ed3\u5b9e\u3002\u201d\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u8bf4\uff0c\u201c\u7237\u7237\uff0c\u6211\u4e0d\u662f\u4f60\u513f\u2026\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u4ed6\u7237\u7237\u7ee7\u7eed\u8bf4\uff1a\u201c\u6211\u513f\uff0c\u4f60\u4e5f\u5e38\u53bb\u5356\u8840\uff1f\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u8bb8\u4e09\u89c2\u6447\u6447\u5934\uff1a\u201c\u6ca1\u6709\uff0c\u6211\u4ece\u6765\u4e0d\u5356\u8840\u3002\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u6211\u513f\u2026\u2026\u201d\u7237\u7237\u8bf4\uff0c\u201c\u4f60\u6ca1\u6709\u5356\u8840\uff0c\u4f60\u8fd8\u8bf4\u8eab\u5b50\u9aa8\u7ed3\u5b9e\uff1f\u6211\u513f\uff0c\u4f60\u662f\u5728\u9a97\u6211\u3002\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily (Y10) has also done an excellent translation of ‘Le C\u0153ur \u00e0 rire et \u00e0 pleurer’, by Maryse Cond\u00e9, as an entry to the Anthea Bell Prize for Young Translators.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This novel tells the story of the author Maryse Cond\u00e9\u2019s childhood in Guadeloupe. Guadeloupe, an island in the Caribbean, was made an Overseas Department of France (DOM: D\u00e9partement d\u2019Outre-Mer) in 1946, which means that Guadeloupe has the same status as any region of mainland France and the inhabitants of Guadeloupe are French citizens. In the opening chapter of this novel, the narrator recalls how much her parents loved their trips to France which had been interrupted by the outbreak of the Second World War. This passage recounts the experience of their first trip back to Paris in 1946. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily’s translation:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today, I am picturing the uncommon sight that we presented, sitting dejected after the war, in the paved seating area of the Latin Quarter in Paris. My father, a former seducer with an attractive appearance, my mother coated in lavish Creole gems, their eight children, my sisters’ lowered eyes, adorned like a shrine, my teenage brothers, one of them already in his first year of medicine, and me, an outrageously spoiled toddler, with a mature mind for her age. Boys fluttered around the caf\u00e9, their trays balanced on their hips, filled with admiration of us, like multitudes of flies to honey. They could no longer hold back each time lemonades infused with mint syrup were served:  <\/p>\n\n\n\n