استكشف المجموعة الواسعة من العناوين المتاحة.

In the early autumn of 2019 Sean Cotter who, before 2000, translated some of Nichita Danilov's poems and two essays by Mircea Eliade, followed, in the new century, by some of Nichita Stănescu's poems and Mircea Cărtărescu's novel Orbitor, came to Iaşi for the Festival of Literature and Translation (FILIT). Sean Cotter's latest feat of translation is Rakes of the Old Court, which the translator deems to be one of the \"reperformances\" of Mateiu Caragiale's Craii de Curtea Veche. In 1995, this particular novel was chosen by a poll of more than one hundred literary critics as the best Romanian novel of all times. On the 4th of October 2019 Sean Cotter gave a talk about his translation of the novel in a FILIT-related event organised by the Faculty of Letters of \"Alexandru loan Cuza\" University of Iaşi, and answered some questions about translation in an interview published in Revista de Traduceri Literare. This study looks into the cultural, aesthetic and linguistic challenges posed by a text which is an intersection of Balkan and Western, Latinate and Turkish, Roman and Greek, seasoned with French and German elements. This cultural and linguistic mix of coarseness and elegance, a dense forest of symbols, heraldic emblems and myths, shaped by Mateiu Caragiale in a refined novel of Romanian decadence, baffles the mind. The question is: how does it translate? I am inclined to give credit to Walter Benjamin's approach to translation contending that \"the kinship of languages manifests itself in translations\" and \"this is not accomplished through the vague resemblance a copy bears to the original.\" I argue, therefore, following the line of Benjamin's argument, that Sean Cotter's Rakes is contained in Mateiu Caragiale's Craii, as an \"abyme\" is in a \"mise en abyme.\"

Two months into their first semester teaching developmental reading at the former institution, the authors noticed a distinct hierarchy emerging between levels of perceived ownership students felt over the material: the ELL students were frequently deferring to their more proficient partners and silencing themselves in the process. The majority of the students were multilingual, speaking Mandarin Chinese, Turkish, Korean, and German as first languages, though some of the students were monolingual English speakers. Up to this point in the semester, they had been engaged in an English language immersive environment, encouraging all students to speak and write in the target language. However, they realized that if they wanted to promote the idea that they are all learners of English, they needed to address that explicitly in class. They decided to do something radical. They decided to introduce translation. The use of translation in the composition classroom is a complicated issue.

In December 1996, the renowned German scholar Annemarie Schimmel (d. 2003) visited the Islamic Research Institute, Islamabad, and delivered a lecture on Islamic Studies in Germany. In view of the Schimmel's eminence and the excellence of the lecture, Islamic Studies is publishing it. Minor editorial changes have been made in the lecture, without compromising the substance while transforming verbal to written communication.

In this article, I read selected texts of two of the most prominent Turkish born authors of Berlin, Aras Ören and Emine Sevgi Özdamar, as poetic projects of confronting and grasping the vicissitudes of modernity's troubled path both in their homeland and in their experience of German history and culture. My reasons for the emphasis on the work of these writers derives from their various positions between two languages and literary traditions and their ability to negotiate various nuances of \"German\" and \"Turk\" and the lived experience of these contested categories. \"A poet is a member of that minority that refuses to be part of any official minority, because a poet knows what it is to belong among those walking in broad daylight, as well as those hiding behind closed shutters,\" writes Charles Simic, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet from the former Yugoslavia. Ören, a Wahlberliner (a Berliner by choice), is arguably the keenest observer and chronicler of cultural clashes and shared destinies between the Turkish and German residents of Berlin's Kreuzberg area. The streets of Ören's Kreuzberg become stages where the competing errors of Turkish and German pasts are reenacted in the present.

In his paper, \"Subverting Literary Allusions in Eliot and Özdamar,\" Walter Rankin explores the opposing ways allusion can be used in the works of major and minority authors. While Eliot is a canonized author whose The Waste Land is characterized by allusions to Eastern and Western works supplemented with his own comprehensive endnotes, Özdamar is a Turkish-German author whose A Cleaning Woman's Career subjects Western literary and historical figures -- including Medea, Hamlet and Ophelia, Nathan the Wise, Julius Ceasar, an Hitler and Eva Braun -- to the interpretive powers of a Turkish cleaning woman working as a guest worker (Fremdarbeiterin) in Germany. In contrast to Eliot's literary and anthropological amalgam, Özdamar's text centers exclusively on characters so well-established and recognizable that their emergence is awarded no further explanation even as they are brought together through the ramblings of her beleaguered narrator. By employing this literary device, Özdamar and other minority authors can assume a position of discursive power on their own and in relation to canonical texts, bringing their works a heightened level of legitimacy and authority.

Art and science have been designated as two different and diametrically opposed \"cultures.\" However, this is an inaccurate assumption; they are components of a single culture, the culture of the intellect. In like manner, cultures of different societies are the phenomena of creatures who have the capability to create and destroy only to create again. This capability is the root of cultural variability and constant change. Paradoxically, since it is the root, it is also where the totality, the unity of culture and cultural history is found.

In Weimar, Goethe's last home, there is a monument to the two (male) poets, a pair of chairs carved out of a single piece of granite and disposed facing one another in what still looks like an adversarial rather than companionable or clubby way, as if the world still doesn't quite know how to interpret Goethe's late masterpiece and its inspiration. The West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, heard at this year's Proms, was in the spirit of Goethe's poems, whose achievement, according to Said and quoted in the foreword to A New Divan by his widow Mariam, was the creation of 'an imaginative re-ordering of polarities, differences and opposition, on the basis not of politics but of affinities, spiritual generosity and aesthetic self-renewal'. Gingko's A New Divan is not the first attempt to bring Goethe's vision up to date, but it is by far the boldest, drawing on the work of contemporary poets in German, Arabic, Spanish, Persian, Italian, French, Russian, Slovenian, Turkish, Portuguese, all presented with a facing English translation like the lobed gingko leaf that Goethe sent to Marianne as a sign of his/their, East's/West's 'oneyet-two' nature. In an introduction to the 1914 Dowden translation, 'E.D.D.' - presumably his second wife and widow Elizabeth Dickinson Dowden - says of it that it represents 'Goethe's Indian summer of art-life', and for