Random Thoughts from Random Nobody

Here's my translation, with the help of Google Translate, of the first stanza of Alexander Pushkin's famous novel-in-verse, Eugene Onegin. “My uncle has the rules most honest; When he was seriously ill, He forced us to treat him most fondest, A plan thought up with utmost skill. His example is surely science; But, my God, to be in compliance With a patient, sit night and day Without leaving a step away! What low treachery to the rundown To amuse, to correct cushions For him, to bring medications Sadly, to sigh and think to oneself: ‘We know this is more than the flu, When will the devil come for you?’”

First, here's my, or should I say, Google Translate's translation of Clement Marot's poem, with my edits and revisions, "A une Damoyselle malade", originally written in French in 1537. My darling, I you bring A greeting; This staying in’s prison. Be healin’, Recover, Discover Outside world, Be unfurled Rapidly, ‘Cause Cody Mandates thee. Go, sweetie, Open mouth, Off the couch, There’s no doom, So consume A s oufflé ; If you stay Sick and frail A hue pale You will get, And forfeit The booty. God owes thee Good well-being, My darling. I'll let the strange grammar, diction and rhymes speak for themselves. Now here's the plain Google translation of the poem. (Keep in mind the date of this post, as the result will change over time as Google Translate improves.) My darling, I give you Hello; The stay It's prison. Healing Cover, Then open Your door And that we come out Quickly, Because Clement...