Transcreation

The idea to trans-create things is recognized mostly for painting or other visual art styles. Artificial Intelligence lets use palettes and brushstrokes that people easily can tell for Gogh or Cezanne in origin. Making such things is pleasure, I can say having done ■my palette Sisley, feel welcome to the sample.

The matter here yet is, how can we trans-create with language?

Philosophy would join ■transcreation with godly agencies, where I do firmly remain by phrasings as the Omniscient or the Almighty Creator, and that not necessarily to imagine a person who spies on everyone, or does all to every living body, but someone who is able and can attain every own purpose, and therefore creates and not trans-creates only.

God should be a respectable figure, or you do not bring in the idea at all. “God the trans-Creator” could be only some semi or demi thought, and people do not recognize demi or semi place or time even if absolutely punctual and tidy. Such is simply the good sense for life.

The same good sense tells there can be a whole fish to fry, if the requirement is not as that for the One to have made the known Universe entire, and this is the case exactly with us people trans-creating things. We can use creativity that is out of copyright as a medium or means.

In consequence, trans-creation never could demand altered consciousness or translation. Mine is word play with many languages rather than work with semantics strictly, where ■paraphrase or ■translation are proper words. Of course, transcreation can be translated, for us to be back with a semantic embrace. We have intellectual property rights for both our translation or transcreation. A whole fish, I told you.

Feel welcome to the sample. I enclose a few notes only after. My “Tony and Cleo” refers to Shakespeare’s ■Anthony and Cleopatra, but the setting is the future, in a time of advanced space travel and other technologies.

EN-GB
Actus primus. Scœna Prima.
Enter Demetrius and Philo.
Philo.
Nay, but this dotage of our Generals ore-flowes the measure: those his goodly eyes that o’re the Files and Musters of the Warre, haue glow’d like plated Mars: now bend, now turne the Office and Deuotion of their view vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart, which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst the Buckles on his brest, reneages all temper, and is become the Bellowes and the Fan to coole a Gypsies Lust.
Enter Anthony, Cleopatra. Looke where they come: take but good note, and you shall see in him (the triple Pillar of the world) transform’d into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see.
Cleo.
If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much.
Ant.
There’s beggery in the loue that can be reckon’d.
Cleo.
Ile set a bourne how farre to be belou’d.
Ant.
Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen, new Earth. Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Newes from Rome.
Ant.
Grates me, the summe.
Cleo.
Nay heare them Anthony. Fuluia perchance is angry; or who knowes, if the scarse-bearded Cæsar haue not sent his powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this; take in that Kingdome, and infranchise that. Perform’t, or else we damne thee.
Ant.
How, my Loue?
Cleo.
Perchance? Nay, and most like; You must not stay heere longer, your dismission is come from Cæsar, therefore heare it Anthony, where’s Fuluias Processe? (Cæsars I would say) both? Call in the Messengers. As I am Egypts Queene, thou blushest Anthony, and that blood of thine is Cæsars homager: else so thy cheeke payes shame, when shrill-tongu’d Fuluia scolds. The Messengers.
Ant.
Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch Of the raing’d Empire fall. Heere is my space, Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike Feeds Beast as Man; the Noblenesse of life is to do thus: when such a mutuall paire, and such a twaine can doo’t, in which I binde one paine of punishment, the world to weete we stand vp Peerelesse.
Cleo.
Excellent falshood: Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her? Ile seeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himselfe.
Ant.
But stirr’d by Cleopatra. Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres, Let’s not confound the time with Conference harsh; There’s not a minute of our liues should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport to night?
Cleo.
Heare the Ambassadors.<br Ant.
Fye wrangling Queene: Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weepe: who euery passion fully striues To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir’d. No Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night wee’l wander through the streets, and note the qualities of people. Come my Queene, Last night you did desire it. Speake not to vs. Exeunt.
Dem.
Is Cæsar with Anthonius priz’d so slight?
Philo.
Sir sometimes when he is not Anthony, he comes too short of that great Property which still should go with Anthony.
Dem.
I am full sorry, that hee approues the common Lyar, who thus speakes of him at Rome; but I will hope of better deeds to morrow. Rest you happy. Exeunt.

EN-US
Act I. Scene I.
Enter Geo and Phil.
Phil.
The general’s foible is the key. It is the good eye to the military muster and file, when Mars shines of metal: there comes the keen tilt and turn, the timed angle and focus for the sidereal leap, out and beyond our northern harvest lunar tan. All becomes by this center code, and all impulse yields to the enclave of force, that the rib enacts, a smith most excellent itself against inordinate motive. Still, we need our lieutenants.
Enter Tony and Cleo.
Look now. Only a few are allowed to know the ammeter for the physical extent. Yet one of a chosen three is become a broad cinch. Mind you and reckon yourself.
Cleo.
If you do truly mean me, say how strong.
Tony.
In love, definition begs sense.
Cleo.
I will decide how strong, then.
Tony.
So as to woo a new Heaven, a new Earth.
Enters Messenger.
Messenger.
The city has news.
Tony.
The sum of all things.
Cleo.
Hear them, Tony. Maybe the Crescent are irked; or that Blue Tow smooth chin for a man has ceased your authority. He always says, do this, or this as well; take in that satellite or have that as well for franchise. Do, or we abominate you.
Tony.
How so?
Cleo.
If it’s possible? It is most the odds; that your dwelling here cannot last, the city has bounced your count, and you ought to hear it. Can you see the people of the Crescent? Have the Blue Tow come? Hear the message. I am a woman of symbol. Do not grow your red. Your color becomes tribute to the Blue, as the Crescent woe shames your face. Hear them.
Tony.
Let the city blend under the tides of time, its commodious ceilings — douse. With you, I can hold a fair field, free is my head; there, the floor supports the jackal and the man. It is life and its bearings, for two fellow souls we are to live the light and the dark together. Bound but to mutuality in trust, we will stand up to the world unchallenged.
Cleo.
A beautiful illusion: but why did the Blue get in line with the Crescent — unhappy? I don’t want any fooling. Tony, you will be man.
Tony.
The man for his Cleo; but now, for the love of love, gentle is the day, let us not yield to chalk or sessions, and ban a minute, even if there be one only to attempt a while of no pleasure. What game would you choose for tonight?
Cleo.
Hear the messengers.
Tony.
A woman of resolve. She has it all: she jokes, she laughs, she weeps; each her affect is own and becoming. I will have no message, only yours, and tonight, just the two of us, we go look at walks by other cognates. My woman, you wanted so last night, to hike the town and see people, talk about the custom, resources around. Say no more.
They Exit.
Geo.
Is Blue Tow of so little worth to Tony?
Phil.
When he’s not himself, some quality of his walk happens to abandon him, and thus his own resource comes to be impoverish’d.
Geo.
It is a pity, then, the Blue Tow to accord a fallacy for the man. I hope tomorrow proves a better day. Good night. They Exit.

PL
Akt I. Scena I.
Wchodzą Geo i Fil.
Fil.
Bawidełko generała to klucz. To jest to oko dobre na wojska musztrę i szereg, kiedy Mars lśni jak metal: tędy idzie skory pochył i zwrot, w realnym czasie kąt i fokus, do susa w gwiazdy, poza i ponad naszą północy księżyca żniwną taninę. Wszystko idzie za kodem centralnym, a impuls ulega enklawie siły, co ją to żeberko czyni aktywnym, ślusarz prześwietny przeciw motywom bez miana. Dalej, trzeba nam generałów.
Wchodzą Tony i Kleo.
Teraz patrz. Dla kilku się tylko dozwala wiedzę o fizycznej skali amperze, a jeden z doborowych trzech już jest pasat szeroki.
Zastanó się, pomyśl za siebie.
Kleo.
Jeśli to o mnie naprawdę ci chodzi, powiedz jak mocno.
Tony.
W miłości, definicja żebrze sensu.
Kleo.
No to ja zdecyduję, jak mocno.
Tony.
Jak by sobie przygadać nowe Niebo, nową Ziemię. Wchodzi posłaniec.
Posłaniec.
Miasto ma wieści.
Tony.
Wszystko i na raz.
Kleo.
Wysłuchaj ich, Tony. Może ktoś drażni ludzi z Rogala, albo ten gładkolicy w miejsce mężczyzny Modry Hol odwołał twoje prawa. Zawsze mówi, zrób to, albo też to; weź tamtego satelitę, albo też tamto na franczyzę. Rób, albo tobą pogardzimy.
Tony.
Jakżeż?
Kleo.
Czy to możliwe? To wszelki traf, że twoje tu trwanie jest skończone, miasto kopsnęło twą rachubą, i musisz tego wysłuchać. Widzisz tu kogoś z Rogala? Przyszli ci z Modrego Holu? Ja jestem kobietą symbolu. Nie dodawaj ducha swej czerwieni. Twój kolor to danina dla Modrego, w miarę jak narzekanie Rogala kładzie wstyd na twą twarz. Wysłuchaj ich.
Tony.
Niechże się miasto z przypływami czasu miesza; jego sufity pojemne — w drzemkę zapadną. Z tobą, mam pole jasne, wolna jest moja głowa; tam, grunt wspiera szakala i człowieka. Takie jest życie i jego postura, żeby dwie dusze jak my swojskie żyły razem w jasność i mrok. Wzajemnym wiązani zaufaniem, nie będziemy cierpieć od świata sprawdzianu.
Kleo.
Piękna iluzja: ale dlaczego Modry się z Rogalem zgadał — nieszczęśliwy? Nie chcę żadnych głupstw. Tony, ty będziesz człowiekiem.
Tony.
Mężczyzną swej Kleo, i teraz miłość kochajmy; pora jest łagodna, po co ulegać kredzie czy sesjom; odegnać by minutę, choćby jedna taka być chwilą bez przyjemnosci próbowała. Jaką sobie wybierzesz na na dzisiaj zabawę?
Kleo.
Wysłuchaj posłańców.
Tony.
Kobieta z charakterem. Ma w sobie wszystko: żartuje, śmieje się, płacze; każde odczucie jest własne i jej przystoi. Nie odbiorę żadnej prócz twej wieści, a dziś w wieczór, tylko my razem, idzemy spojrzeć na inne powołania. Moja kobieto, tak chciałaś wczoraj, chadzać po mieście, widzieć ludzi, mówić o zasobach i zwyczaju. Nie mów więcej.
Wychodzą.
Geo.
Modry Hol tak niewiele dla Tony’ego znaczy?
Phil.
Kiedy nie jest sobą, zdarza się, pewna jakość jego powołania go opuszcza, i takoż jego własny zasób jest zubożony.
Geo.
To szkoda, że Modry Hol zatwierdza oszustwo w miejsce człowieka. Jutro, mam nadzieję, będzie lepsze. Wychodzą.

To begin with, we consider a piece of text as a pool of words. We do not need to be as strict as information pools would require.
Example:
Original: “kingdoms are clay”;
Transcreation: “my head is free”;
In Latin they said ■creta could remove all trouble from the mind.

■Chalk and cheese is synonyms with ■day and night, and that may call for different as well as originally twaine ideas, hence “It is life and its bearings, for two fellow souls we are to live the light and the dark together”, where Tony offers not to “yield to chalk or sessions”.

We do not deny words their capability for cognitive association. “His captain’s heart, which in the scuffles of great fights has burst the buckles on his breast” — may bring center, code, and rib, for a cognitive idea on command, buckles, and bursting. In Latin, ■cordis referred also to center.

Reportedly, ■Caesar did not have blue eyes; his dictator Sulla was blue-eyed, hence the transcreation Blue Tow for “Caesar”.

■Anthony’s marriage with ■Fulvia was business rather than love, hence the Crescent, where we can consult Thomas Taylor’s ■Collectanea for the many-colored garment of the moon, as on page 131. ■Fulvus meant tawny in Latin.

People have had the “yellow moon” for the “harvest moon”, and the transcreation northern harvest lunar tan refers to ■sidereal measurement of time as relative to the ■vernal equinox, March in the southern hemisphere, and September in the northern — hence the transcreation “let us ban a minute, even if there be one only”.

Spoiler: in my transcreation, the lovers do not commit suicide. After the “battle of the stock exchange”, the military loses and lives; his love, the civilian woman, wins and lives. Their relationship becomes different, because she wins over him in the process too. What is love… Tony and Cleo. Work in progress.

Happy transcreating!