phantom translation

A fanmade Persona 5 personality quiz has been going around on Twitter lately. It was created by fanartist ayattuji, who also gave me permission to post translations of it on Tumblr.  (If any of the statements seem unclear, remember that “no” is false, and “yes” is true.)

To find out which character your number corresponds with, click the read more.


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Woo Wonjae, Hanhae, Asol, and Penomeco will have a track called “One Star” together for Dazed x Converse

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I’ve owned this manga for almost a decade, and managed to translate only one page from this book (the waterfall page…

(I believe he’s admiring the waterfall and trying to figure out what it’s called, but gives up on trying to figure it out? I could be wrong though. It’s been years.)

Edit: I should clarify that I didn’t translate this waterfall page by myself. I had help when I was younger, so I have no clue what the other pages are talking about. Only through the visuals can I get some kind of idea what it’s about. If anyone is interested in translating these, Id be more than happy to provide any scans of the book.

As those of you know who have been following my posts about the Gaulois publication of Phantom, Leroux cut a large section out of Chapter 12 (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”) when he published his 1st Edition. For those of you who would like to see that omitted text in one place, here it is in its entirety:

……..

Raoul spoke this “perhaps” with such love and despair that Christine was unable to hold back a sob; but the strength of her will quickly subdued her emotion, and she had the courage to question the young man without dwelling on her sorrow.

“Why have you asked me his name, since you know it?”

"To know that I was not dreaming! To know that I had really heard it!… … And now, Christine, you have nothing more to tell me!… Goodbye!…”

The young man bid farewell to Mama Valérius, who did not speak a word to detain him, since he had ceased to indulge her ward; then, more coldly still, he bowed before Christine, who did not return his farewell gesture, and “straight as an arrow,” but feebly, to the point where he thought he would faint as he took the third step that led him from Christine, he pushed open the chamber door and entered the sitting room.

The young woman’s hand, gentle upon his shoulder, stopped him there. They were alone, standing between the portraits of Professor Valérius and Daddy Daaé. Christine gestured toward them and said:

"If I swear to you, before them, that I love you, Raoul, will you believe me?”

“I will believe you, Christine,” assured the young man, who only asked to be consoled.

“Well, understand then, standing before them, Raoul, understand that if I have pitied Erik, it is because I love you!”

“Good Heavens!” breathed the Vicomte … and he sat down.

Needless to say, he wished to hear more, and the conversation was beginning to please him.

“Speak, Christine,” he begged… “Speak!… You have brought me back to life, for as I said farewell, I thought that I was going to die…”

She sat beside him, so close that he felt the movement of her gentle breath. He looked at her, unable to sate his gaze with this angel who loved him; but she did not look at him. And she spoke without seeing Raoul, or rather without looking in his direction. She saw him at first as a child, when he had collected her scarf from the sea, and she told him that from that day forward she had loved him, because he was courageous like a man; and then she reminded him of when he would sit by her side and listen to Daddy Daaé’s tales, and she loved him even more then because he was gentle like a girl; and then later, when he had returned, she had hated him, because he hadn’t dared to speak the words that her heart, unknowingly, was waiting to hear, and this was even further proof that she loved him. She had never stopped loving him with the most pure love, for as far back as she could remember.

Raoul, who was crying softly, took Christine’s hand and could not refrain from asking her why she had behaved in such an icy fashion with him when he had thrown himself at her feet in her dressing room, and why she had always attempted to rebuff him when he tried to meet with her.

She replied in a calm and serious voice:

“Because, rightly, I did not want to be compelled to tell you, my dear, what I am telling you today. It was my intention that you would always be unaware of the love that I have confessed to you.”

“And the reason for this?” implored Raoul anxiously.

“The reason was that I did not want to distract you from your duties, Raoul, and because I loved you enough to not want you to feel remorse. I live between these two images,” she added, gesturing to the portraits of her dear departed; “the day that I am no longer worthy of looking upon them, my dear, I shall die.”

“Christine, you shall be my wife!”

Raoul uttered these words while looking at the two witnesses who regarded him from their frames with exaggerated and stylized smiles. The young woman said to him calmly:

“I knew that you would be ready to commit such folly. And this is again why I have hidden from you the tenderness of my feelings, Raoul!”

"Where do you see folly in this?” protested the Vicomte naively. “Where is the folly in marrying you if I love you? And would you think me wise to marry someone that I didn’t love?”

“It is folly, my dear,” Christine persisted harshly, “it is folly for us to ‘get married at your age,’ you, the heir to the de Chagnys, and me, an actress and the daughter of a village fiddler, and this in spite of your family. I will never allow it! People would say that you had lost your mind, or that I had caused you to lose it, which would be worse!”

As harsh as the singer’s response had been, it had at least been tempered by the words, “at your age.” Raoul saw in this certain hope.

“I shall wait!” he cried, “I shall wait for as long as you wish, so that everyone shall know that my resolve is unshakable and that my heart is in agreement with my head.”

“Your brother will never consent to such a union!”

“I shall bring him round, Christine. When he sees me ready to die of despair, he will have to give in.”

“Your family will cast you out!”

“No, for you shall be with me, and when they see you, they will be unable to do without you. Oh, Christine, listen to me … if you wish it to be, nothing in the world can stop us from being happy!”

Christine had risen. She shook her head and a bitter smile passed across her pale lips.

“You must abandon this hope, my dear…”

“I swear to you that you shall be my wife!”

“And I,” cried Christine in an exclamation of peculiar sorrow… “and I, I have sworn that I shall never be!”

Raoul hesitated… He had no doubt misheard… He wanted to hear it again.

“You have sworn… You have sworn that you will never be my wife? Christine? And to whom, then, mademoiselle, have you made this fine oath, if not to the one whose gold ring you have accepted?”

Christine did not reply. Raoul pressed her to explain herself. The young man’s agitation was acute. The fire of jealousy was overcoming him anew. It frightened him.

“Take comfort!” she cried in a delirium where love and modesty engaged in the most seductive struggle… “I have sworn to myself that I would have no other husband but you.”

“Yes, but you will not marry me!” groaned Raoul. “This is a sorrowful remedy for my pain. What strange oaths, Christine! And how convoluted all of this is, even though I have esteemed you to be candor itself… What! You swear to yourself to have no other husband but me, and yet you make an oath to another that you will never marry me! To whom, then, Christine? I want to know… Wretch that I am, I already know! And you say that you love me and that you want me to believe you! You forget that I know the name of the man’s Voice!

She took his hands then and looked at him with all of the pure affection of which she was capable, and the young man, beneath the gaze of those eyes, felt his pain already subsiding.

“Raoul,” she said, “I have given you the confession of my love to have the right to tell you: You must forget the man’s voice and never again even recall his name … and never again attempt to fathom the mystery of theman’s voice.”

“This mystery is so very terrible?”

She raised her lovely arms toward the two silent figures, witnesses half smiling, half saddened by these strange words; her eyes became gloomy, and her throat choked back a sob. She said:

“There is none more terrible on this earth!”

A silence separated the two youths. Raoul was overwhelmed. She continued to win him over…

naver article summary: “rapper hanhae’s ‘pitiful image was rid of by smtm6′”
  • hanhae was introduced to hiphop through drunken tiger’s music in the 6th grade
  • he told his mom that he wants to pursue music. he said he can be better than the people on TV. he would go to seoul for one year and if there’s no result, he would come back. 
  • it was surprising to his mom because he was a quiet child who had a mild personality and average grades
  • in seoul he stayed in his friend’s house and did tons of part time jobs.. it was a hard and sad time for him because nothing seemed to work out
  • even after releasing his first phantom song he still had to do many part time jobs bc money didn’t roll in quickly
  • fast forward….now he was a contender for top 3 in smtm6!!
  • he isn’t regretful that he was eliminated. although he said his goal was to win because he wanted to show a strong and confident image of himself, he didn’t expect to win
  • he also opened up about misogyny in hiphop:
  • he says hip hop artists don’t need to resort to misogyny to be cool. you can easily express what you want to express without putting down women
  • he’s working on a new album !!!
  • his role model is paloalto

anonymous asked:

Hey! Want to help me with some obscure Phantom info? I've got a question that's been bugging me for a long time and you probably know the answer. In the Apollo's Lyre chapter, at the very beginning, there is mention of "huge tanks full of stagnant water where the young boys of the ballet . . . learn to swim and dive." (Paraphrasing Coward). The whole tank thing intrigues me, but that's the only mention of it in the book and Google hasn't helped. Do you have any info on this? History/pics?

Hi Anon. This is a great question, and one without an easy answer. The shortest way to reply to your ask is to say that while there were tanks for storing water on or in the roof of the Palais Garnier, there isn’t conclusive evidence for them fitting Leroux’s description of “immense tanks full of still water where, during the warmer months, the little boys of the ballet, about twenty young lads, dived and learned to swim” (translation my own).

These veritable swimming pools of water stored on the Opera House roof (deep enough for children to dive and swim in) appear to derive in part from some artistic license on Leroux’s part, the same penchant for over-exaggeration that led Leroux to describe the waist-deep water cistern in the Opera’s basement as an immense lake of Stygian proportions.

In the course of researching the Palais Garnier for writing Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, Leroux read the book, Le Nouvel Opéra: monument - artistes, published in 1875 by X.Y.Z. (i.e. Anonymous). We know this because Leroux lifted entire sections from this book and inserted them nearly unchanged into his novel (Leroux was nothing if not a good plagiarist).

On page 82 of Le Nouvel Opéra, X.Y.Z. tells us that (translation my own):

On such a vast expanse of rooftops, it was necessary to deal with the rain, – an inconvenient and burdensome guest to men as well as to houses. Therefore did M. Garnier safeguard the streets of zinc and the corridors of cast-iron, connected amongst themselves by granite roof decks that form water tanks, whose dual aim is to collect the rainwater in order to drain it and to serve as water storage in the case of fire.

Here is the original text:

These roof decks, or platforms, that X.Y.Z. describes don’t sound much like the “immense tanks” that Leroux described the ballet boys diving and swimming in, but it does appear that there was water storage of some kind on the Opera House roof. It is possible that Leroux read X.Y.Z.’s description and decided to embellish on it.

I also looked at Charles Nuitter’s text on the construction of the Palais Garnier, also titled Le Nouvel Opéra, and also published in 1875. X.Y.Z. states that they referenced Nuitter’s work when they were writing their book, so Nuitter is the more primary source.

On page 66 of Le Nouvel Opéra, Nuitter tells us that (translation my own):

In particular, it is the roofing above the stage which presents the most curious image. There, as in the other parts of the building, the expanse of this construction imposed particular precautions on the architect. It was necessary to plan for the volume and force of the water currents, which, during rainstorms, would form into vast sheets. From the top of the gable to the end of the slope, the water currents are retained by two flood barriers, which gently halt them in their rush, regulating their flow and draining them off, after having divided them into two immense channels, veritable canals, in which one can move about with ease, and where large drains quickly guzzle the masses of water which, if left alone, would have caused the most serious damage.

Here is the original text:

Nuitter doesn’t directly mention the “réservoirs,” or water tanks, that X.Y.Z. described, however on page 245, he does tell us that there is a “Réservoir de l’Apollon,” or “Apollo’s Water Tank,” which may be the same as the roof-level water tanks that X.Y.Z. described.

There are also a number of water tanks in other locations, such as in the upper part of the stage house below the roof rafters (the “Réservoirs des grils”). It is possible, though not 100 percent clear in Nuitter’s text, that these rafter-level water tanks were fed by the rainwater he described above.

He does tell us that (translation my own):

The three water tanks for the stage are positioned at the height of the third grid below the rafters. They feed the fire suppression pipes for the stage, the administrative offices, and the house.

As seen above, the “Réservoir de l’Apollon” contained 13,000 liters, or a little more than 3,400 gallons. This would be enough water to fill a child-sized swimming pool, however it is unclear what the size and shape of this water tank was. We can’t tell from this description if it was the same as X.Y.Z.’s shallow but broad roof decks, or if it was akin to Leroux’s deep swimming tanks.

The Palais Garnier rooftop as it exists today unfortunately does little to answer our questions about these water containment systems. However, I think that we are safe in surmising that unless evidence comes to light that supports his description, Leroux was most likely exaggerating in his depiction of the rooftop water tanks.

My Icelandic translation of Wishing

Þú varst eitt sinn mitt ljós í myrkri
Þú varst mitt aðsetur
Þú varst eitt sinn vinur og faðir
Þá hrundi minn heimur

Ó bara ef þú værir hér á ný
Ef þú værir mér við hlið
Þær nætur sem að mig dreymir þig
Veita mér sálarfrið

Ó bara ef ég gæti heyrt rödd þína
Þótt hún hafi dáið með þér
Þó ég dreymi minn draum
Get ég ey uppfyllt ósk þína af raun
Um gott líf handa mér

Gráar bjöllur og steyptir englar
Við þeim mér ofbýður
Þau sýnast ey vera af þinni manngerð
Þú varst hlýr og blíður

I of mörg ár hef ég barist við tár,
Því deyr ey fortíðin?

Ó bara ef þú værir hér á ný
Þó ég þurfi að kveðja þig
Reyni að fyrirgefa, kenndu mér að lifa
Veit mér styrk til að reyna

Engar fleiri minningar, eða þögul tár
Nú segja skilið þarf ég við mín æskuár
Hjálpaðu mér að kveðja þig
Hjálpaðu mér að kveðja þig!


And here it is translated into English:

You were once my light in darkness
You were my home
You were once a friend and father
Then my world fell apart

Oh only if you were here again
If you were by my side
The nights that I dream of you
Give me a peace of mind

Oh only if I could hear your voice again
Even though it died with you"
Even if I dream my dream
I can’t make your wish really come true
Of a good life for me

Gray bells and sculpted angels
They distress me
They don’t seem to be like you
You were warm and gentle

For too many years I have been fighting back tears
Why doesn’t the past die?

Oh only if you were here again
Even though I have to say goodbye to you
Try to forgive, teach me to live
Give me the strength to try

No more memories or silent tears
Now I’ve got to part with my childhood years
Help me say goodbye to you
Help me say goodbye to you

And to pair with our other farm animal, the lunch lady is a cow! This decision was largely based on her obsession with meat (but don’t think about that too hard).

In other news, I think I’m going to need to put this project on pause for a few days. There are a couple of other art projects that I need to get done sooner rather than later, but I keep doing this instead. I do intend to complete this project, though, so stay tuned!!

Raoul Week QOTD (from “The New Marguerite”):

In which Gaston Leroux describes the adorable, precious bb, Raoul de Chagny.

(I encourage you to gaze at the utterly Raoul-y picture of Aaron Taylor-Johnson as you read this.)

« La timidité de ce marin, je serais presque tenté de dire, son innocence, était remarquable. Il semblait être sorti la veille de la main des femmes. De fait, choyé par ses deux sœurs et par sa vieille tante, il avait gardé de cette éducation purement féminine des manières presque candides, empreintes d’un charme que rien, jusqu’alors, n’avait pu ternir. À cette époque, il avait un peu plus de vingt et un ans et en paraissait dix-huit. Il avait une petite moustache blonde, de beaux yeux bleus et un teint de fille. »

“The sailor’s shyness, I would almost be tempted to say his innocence, was remarkable. He seemed to have only recently left the care of women. Indeed, pampered as he was by his two sisters and by his old aunt, he had retained from that purely female education manners that were almost naive, imprinted with a charm that nothing hitherto had been able to tarnish. At that time, he was a little older than twenty-one years and he looked eighteen. He had a petite blonde mustache, lovely blue eyes, and a girlish complexion.”