SIR ERNEST GOWERS ON BINOMIAL PAIRS

Sir Ernest Gowers, who edited the 1965 second edition of Fowler’s Modern English Usage, has referred to these pairs, joined by the conjunctions “and” or “or,” as Siamese twins (other sources call them binomials - the German term is Zwillingsformel or Paarformel).

The pairs can be made up of nouns (“fish and chips”; most binomials are like this), adjectives (“quick and dirty”), verbs (“win or lose”). Some pairs consist of synonyms (“cease and desist”) while others consist of antonyms (“back and forth”).

"In rhetorical works, synonymous binomials can be classified as tautologies: something is expressed by two or more synonymous words with the purpose of intensification or emphasis".

Gowers writes that the abundance of synonymous and hyponymous pairs in English “is perhaps partly attributable to legal language, where the multiplication of near-synonyms is a normal precaution against too narrow an interpretation.” (The same can be said for all these binomials in the Grimm corpus of fairytales, with that "und" followed by a synonym or hyponym/meronym?)

He adds that the wording in the Book of Common Prayer, “seldom content with one word if two can be used, may also have had something to do with it.” (The same can be said for all these binomials in the Grimm corpus of fairytales, with that "und" followed by a synonym or hyponym/meronym?)

In fact, this phenomenon of synonymous binomials (I will use the umbrella to cover hyponymous and meronymous binomials as well) also occurs heavily in Slavic languages -also due to biblical (Hebrew and Greek) and legalese influence?-

According to some Grimm scholars: 3. Die elementare Symmetrie der Märchen zeigt sich

beim Aufbau namentlich in der Wiederholung 
gewisser Züge und dem Spiel mit Zahlbegriffen, 
bei der Durchführung im einzelnen besonders in 
der Vorliebe für Allitterationen, Zwillingsformeln 
und synonyme Gedanken Verbindungen. 

Gowers recommends breaking up or rephrasing pairs of synonyms that are merely redundant.

I support Gowers. Maybe I should play a round of that drinking game using the Grimm corpus, or the Bible. I find these synonymous and hyponymous binomials redundant and meant for either breaking up or rephrasing. However, countless are the translators who pour synonymous and/or hyponymous binomials word for word into the target language, creating a repetitive effect of redundancy.

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It is true that every writer is a world, and that even literary works of the same author may differ, a word (or a polylexematic expression, such as a synonymous binomial) may appear twice or thrice in one text, be a hapax in another, and completely non-existant in the third. A hapax is a term which only occurs once in a text.

Hamlet, for instance, has the most hapaxes out of any Shakespearean play, with King Lear in second place and Othello at the third. Making a word cloud of any text is easy to see the frequencies of the words appearing and thus, spotting hapaxes. In my Othello libretto (Miss Dermark's Verdian Othello), "now," "Othello," "Iago," and "right" are the most frequent. In The Two Made One, "right" is likewise the most common word, with "like" at second place, and "yet" at the third. In my Gustavus Adolphus chair drama, "will," "now," "Swedes," "one," and "Gustavus" take the most prominence. 

Hapaxes in Gustavus Adolphus include "flintlock," "midriff," and "Leviathan," as well as "darling" and "freethinker." Hapaxes in The Two Made One include "lieutenant," "banshee," "exhaustion," and "peridot." In Miss Dermark's Verdian Othello, "brocade," "Giallarhorn," "conflagration," "misadventure," and "crucify" are but a few in a long list of meaningful words that occur only once throughout the libretto.

POEMAS 25 ANIVERSARIO UJI

Estos poemas son obra de Rosa Agost, Decana de la Facultad de Ciencias Humanas y Sociales de la Universidad Jaime I, y fueron escritos para conmemorar el 25 aniversario de dicha Universidad.

Aquests poemes són obra de Rosa Agost, degana de la Facultat de Ciències Humanes i Socials de la Universitat Jaume I, i fóren escrits per a commemorar el 25è aniversari de la dita Universitat.


1988
Veus de la tardor,
imatges, noves llums.
Raons, pur desig.

Pancartes al vent, 
mocadors i bufandes,
València emmudeix...

1991
Plou l'hivern final,
febrer del 91.
Sabates noves

Parida entre tots,
flors de taronger, romer:
Sapientia nostra.

2016
Revolta per ser,
vint-i-cinc anys de passió. 
Claustre amb rostre nou.

Veus, riures, ulls quiets,
paranimf amb llum de sol.
Memòria present.

-------------------------------------------------------

25 anys i escaig

Libertas... Sapientia...
I entre totes dues sempre, la revolta.
Desde l'inici, des d'abans del començament.
Dies d'il·lusió,
de debats i rebel·lions;
de petites emocions,
de canvis i neguits,
de descobriment d'ànimes bessones
que ens acompanyaran per sempre més
per camins de crítica i desitjos compartits.
I al capvespre una esperança i, finalment,
la idea que esdevé realitat, amb decisió.

Sapientia... Libertas...
Anys de treballs,
d'empenta intel·lectual,
d'esforç i gaudi a les aules,
de grups a la recerca de la recerca,
de desitjos d'anar més enllà,
de voluntats de no perdre la terra 
que xafem, que sentim i que parlem.

Hores també de solituds silents,
de pors interiors,
de temors col·lectives en temps de noves revoltes,
en temps d'aires viciats per l'estultícia
i la hipocresia de qui mana
amb poder i sense pudor.

25 anys i escaig
des del dia que vam dir "prou!"
enmig de tarongers,
en una plana plena de desig,
de desitjos de cors
que pujaven muntanyes
per aconseguir els drets prohibits...

Hem vist nàixer la idea
i, al voltant de símbols de temps i vents de la terra,
hem vist viure aquesta casa nostra
que creix i es transforma,
que ens arrossega i envolta.

Aturem-nos i mirem-la
i repensem-la de nou,
amb mirada serena, diversa,
emocionada i exigent,
de portes endins i de portes enfora:
mirada constant, dialògica, sincera.

Perquè la volem nostra i de tothom,
conjugada amb múltiples veus,
crítica i en constant moviment,
a la recerca d'un futur que ens pertany
i que ens pertoca gestionar i disfrutar
des de la raó i la passió,
des de la passió i la raó...
Sempre en continu diàleg
i amb la paraula com a eix vertebrador.

Sapientia Sola Libertas est.
Desig de llibertat,
desig de coneixement,
desig de futur des del present.
Obrim portes i finestres.
Eixamplem la casa.

Xafem, sentim i parlem la terra que ens envolta.
Fem viure la vida
i, amb un somriure, sempre... la revolta.

Across the Fields (Enjolras & Combeferre - backstory)

Across the Fields

genarti

In December of 1829, Combeferre goes home with Enjolras to Auvergne.

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Combeferre's first impression of the Enjolras household was one of deep confusion, followed some while later by awkwardness.

It was not the fault of the household. Enjolras and Combeferre had arrived late, after the stars had emerged, and they were obliged to knock loudly before the housekeeper, who was a little deaf, came to let them in. They had managed with difficulty to find a fiacre to carry them through the steep and silent streets of Le Puy-en-Velay. Before that, several days aboard a diligence. Moreover, Combeferre was susceptible to illness when traveling in jouncing vehicles. The diligence is the dinghy of the mountains. It induces its own sea-sickness. Enjolras was immune. He spent the journey reading. Combeferre passed his hours in private misery, attempting to sleep and struggling not to resent his companion's ease, with indifferent success at both. By the time they arrived at the modest house, Combeferre wanted nothing more than to sleep on a proper bed rather than a carriage-seat. He prepared himself to be sociable instead.

The housekeeper, a round and rosy old woman named Mother Reynaud, greeted Enjolras by tugging him down to kiss his cheeks. Combeferre, in the haze which exhaustion and sudden warmth produce after a chilly journey and the lugging of bags, was too tired even to be much amused at the absent air with which Enjolras returned the caress. He woke enough to be astonished, however, when the good woman did the same to him. He was further astounded when she told them that the elder Enjolras was in his chambers. Combeferre, returning home, would have been greeted at any hour by parental embraces, fraternal exuberance, a household tumult. It seemed inconceivable to him that any father would not emerge from his bedroom to greet an only son, an only child returned after months -- more than a year! -- at university.

Enjolras showed no surprise. "His leg pains him in cold weather," he explained briefly. He instructed Mother Reynaud that he would visit his father shortly.

Combeferre had no desire to introduce himself to a friend's father with either party in nightclothes. He allowed Enjolras to guide him without protest to the bedroom appointed for his use, and was fast asleep in moments.

---

In the morning he awoke early, as was his habit, and much refreshed. He had leisure now to examine the room which would be his home for a week.

The chamber had belonged to Enjolras's grandmother, who had passed away (he had been told) some years before, and was still decorated in a style befitting its former occupant. She had clearly possessed a fine and old-fashioned sense of decoration which she had not bequeathed to her Spartan grandson: the furniture was in a provincial style, upholstered in dainty green, cabriole legs, the bedclothes topped with a finely worked quilt, the curtains edged with lace, more lace on the chest of drawers, flowers on the wallpaper. Combeferre felt extremely out of place. His bundles were heaped by the door, untidy and incongruous, a splash of dried mud on one corner of the carpetbag.

He determined to go see Enjolras, who would wake blearily but without objection. Then he remembered that last night he had been too tired to inquire after the location of Enjolras's rooms. He could have found it easily enough, for the house was not large, but he was disinclined to skulk about at dawn on the first morning.

Instead, he dressed and began to read. The morning light was cold and clear. Outside, birds were singing. Among the familiar larks and orioles and nuthatches, there was one whose song he didn't know. He reflected briefly and with tolerant amusement on the probable utility of asking Enjolras, and decided to inquire with Mother Reynaud, or perhaps a neighbour.

Some while later, Enjolras came to collect him for breakfast. His Grecian face bore the particular look of remote abstraction which meant he was half asleep still; his face was freshly washed but his hair still rumpled, his cravat a little askew as it often was without Courfeyrac or Bahorel's intervention; he knocked, entered, leaned his shoulders back against the door, smiled. Familiarity entered the room with him.

In the dining room, they found already seated a man whose silver hair and grave manner instantly proclaimed him to be Enjolras père. His face, once handsome, now dignified, was seamed with lines of middle age and pain, as well as two old cuts from a saber's blade receding into his hairline on the left. His hair was scattered with a collection of reddish gold among the silver, like birdseed on snow. His features were not much like his son's. In the moment before the old veteran noticed their arrival, however, Combeferre had seen him sitting with hands folded in exactly the manner he had seen a hundred times on the younger Enjolras, and a distant, thoughtful gaze that gave Combeferre a disquieting impression that he had caught a glimpse of his friend at fifty. He shook off the feeling to bow, as M. Enjolras rose stiffly to greet them.

They sat. Mother Reynaud brought in breakfast: bread, jam, cold chicken, coffee, an offer of cocoa. Simple fare. Combeferre found that he was ravenous, for he had eaten little on their journey, but he was too embarrassed to wolf down his portion. He forced himself to moderation.

M. Enjolras inquired after his studies.

"Medicine. I'm in my second year."

"Ah, good."

Silence.

Did Combeferre find it interesting?

Yes, very.

"Mm. That's good."

Silence again. Oppressive now.

There were dust motes in the air, floating untroubled in a sunbeam. M. Enjolras's voice had the timbre of his son's, only a little higher, but it was more melancholy. Combeferre could imagine the father's voice ringing out across a room or a riot only because he had heard the son's do so. He took more bread. A little desperately, he complimented the house.

"Thank you. It belonged to my wife's parents."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You can see it there." He indicated with a spare gesture the wall behind Combeferre. Combeferre, bemused, turned to look, and could not repress a start of surprise.

Enjolras had said once that he favored his mother in appearance. Behind Combeferre, where he had not looked when they entered the room, hung a large portrait which proved him correct. It showed a young woman of exceeding beauty, her hair a mass of sunlit gold, her clothes twenty years out of fashion. Blue eyes gazed over the table with a limpid gentleness which Combeferre had never seen in her son, though there was no way to tell whether that expression had come from the woman's face or the painter's delicate imagination. A Phrygian cap dangling from one small white hand, and a tome which upon scrutiny proved to be by Rousseau in the other, proved beyond any doubt that Mme. Enjolras had given her only son a legacy beyond mere appearance. In the painting's background was indeed a stone house.

Combeferre turned back, searching for a way to continue the conversation. Her death was too long ago, and their acquaintance far too new, for him to express sympathy. Every other comment seemed to him stilted or banal. He was opening his mouth to say something about his own childhood home when Enjolras spoke.

"Father, how much have you heard of Polignac's latest promotion?"

In an instant, the atmosphere changed. The old man's pale eyes flashed; his gaze fixed upon his son with a fierce attention. "Not enough," he said, with a low control which Combeferre found utterly familiar. "Too much to stomach -- a worm of an ultra, leading that mockery of a Council -- but not enough." He glanced at Combeferre, who sat arrested. "The papers run slow here, and they never tell us enough of the sentiments of the people. They're too much under the despot's thumb. Legal newspapers! A sham. The independent presses are small here -- limited. I get better news from what Jean-Sébastien sends me. You're closer to the action, Jean-Sébastien. The people must be enraged. Tell me about it."

Enjolras folded slim fingers around his coffee cup, and began to do so. His Haute-Loire accent had strengthened in only a few hours home, but the unselfconscious rhetorical assurance of his speech was unchanged. All awkwardness was fled, all distance. The very light seemed warmer and more golden. Combeferre settled back in his chair. He agreed with Enjolras in his opinion of Polignac, but disagreed about the best response. He waited for the proper moment to interject.

---

Afternoon found the two young men rambling across fields. A casual comment from Mother Reynaud had indicated that a neighbour some few leagues away had a herd containing peculiar hairy cows from Scotland. Combeferre was instantly intrigued. Enjolras was as usual tolerant, his father more informative but likewise bemused; yes, M. Tautou did have such a herd. The bull was long-horned, the cattle furry as bears. Yes, the boys could certainly go to see. M. Tautou would not mind. M. Enjolras did not offer to accompany them, and the young men did not ask. In the December cold, he leaned heavily upon a stick to walk even between rooms, and one leg dragged. "A souvenir of Buonaparte's ambition," he said, with a twist to his lips.

"Your father's leg seems to pain him badly," Combeferre said as they crossed a field of wheat stubble, far from the old veteran's hearing and thus any chance of wounded pride. The wind gusted at intervals, but the sun kept off the worst of winter's cold, and their overcoats were thick.

Enjolras answered the question Combeferre had not asked. "Grapeshot at Albeck. The thigh was broken and the wound became infected. They were short on doctors, but my uncle was one. They saved the leg. But it scarred badly."

Combeferre could imagine it. He didn't want to; it seemed obscene to picture so clearly the blood, the swelling, the stink, the screams, the howls, the filth of infection and battle, all that misery attached to the sober melancholy man with Enjolras's way of spare contained gestures; the fierce light of those pale eyes clouded with pain and laudanum, or worse yet no laudanum to use. He felt it was cowardly for a doctor in training to flinch from such things, if picture them he must, but he did. "You never mentioned an uncle," he said to take his mind off it.

Enjolras shook his head. "He died at Austerlitz. I never knew him."

Combeferre was silent.

Enjolras glanced sideways. He slipped his arm through Combeferre's without a word. It was more difficult to navigate the hummocked field arm-in-arm, and Combeferre thought the gesture unnecessary; still, it warmed him. "It was very quick, I'm told. Here, the pasture is over this ridge. You'll know the creatures at once."

They crossed over the ridge.

Below them, a slope too steep and uneven for easy plowing, like a rumpled sheet thrown across the land, slumping its way down into one of those rolling valleys for which the Haute-Loire is justly famous. Wheatfields beyond, green in summer, gold at harvest, dull brown and close-shorn now, dotted with snow. A sturdy fence enclosed a broad stretch of hillside. Inside were several animals nearly the color of the hay they grazed upon. They were large, square, and placid. One would have thought they had been draped with sheepswool dyed the color of toasted bread. From the tops of their heads sprouted long horns. Peculiar creatures, utterly unaware of their strangeness. Combeferre was delighted.

He pulled his arm free and hurried down the slope towards the nearest, a cow, who was testing the fence's strength by scratching her furry back against it. Enjolras followed at a more sedate pace, smiling faintly now.

At his approach the cow gave off scratching to study him with dim curiosity. Combeferre pulled off a glove to touch her fur. The wind was cold, but the fur was thick, and the cow allowed him to bury his fingers in it until he could touch the warm hide beneath. It was very soft.

"I wonder if they're a more primitive breed?" he mused to Enjolras, who came to lean against the fence beside him. The cow lowed and attempted to rub her head against Enjolras's hand. He shifted slightly away. Philosophically, the cow licked her nose. "They're clearly well equipped for cold weather. Well, Scotland is reportedly a harsh land. In Scandinavia they herd reindeer; in Russia, I think the same. Do they have cattle as well? Is this the more antique breed, or the creation of latter-day breeding? I've heard nothing of such hairy cows raised by the Greeks or Romans, but they would expire under the Mediterranean sun, no doubt. This fur is astonishingly soft, you know, under the outer coat. No wonder they can be pastured even now without ill effect." He scratched experimentally at the cow's shoulder. She allowed it, or perhaps took no notice. She was regarding Enjolras lovingly. "Do they maintain this coat all their lives, or are they shorn in spring like sheep? What do the young ones look like, I wonder?"

Enjolras's brows drew together. It was the look of charming bemusement which appeared when, for a friend's sake, he attempted to turn his formidable talents to a use to which they were not meant. "Woolly," he said at last.

Combeferre burst into laughter.

Enjolras waited tolerantly for him to subside. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Small," he added at length.

"Thank you," said Combeferre, when he had regained his breath. "Exceedingly useful information. We'll make a natural philosopher of you yet."

Enjolras leaned a shoulder against his, and gazed out across the pasture to the mountainous horizon beyond. Combeferre turned his attention to examining the cow's long horn, and was content.

Notes:

My only regret is that this fic doesn't contain more noble animals or scientific hijinks, but I hope the Highland cow is sufficiently dignified to make up for some of it. You may imagine how long Combeferre spends nerding out over these things before he finally gets cold enough to let himself be led away. (Spoiler: a long time.)

I also hope my self-indulgent experiments in figuring out my ideas for Enjolras's backstory are of interest, whether or not they accord with yours. :)

HAND IN HAND WITH GWENDOLINE

Oh, hand in hand with Gwendoline,

while yet our locks are gold,

he'll fare among the forests green,

and through the gardens old;

And when, like leaves that lose their green,

our gold has turned to grey,

then, hand in hand with Gwendoline,

he'll fade and pass away!

Andrew Lang, 1884

 

 

Oh, hand i hand med Gwendoline

han genom skogen går,

som guld hans hår, så ungt hans sinn

bland parkens gröna snår.

När parkens grönska övergått

i grått liksom hans hår

bort går han med sin Gwendoline,

med hennes hand i sin. 

 

Översättning: Eva von Zweigbergk, 1960-tal

 

 

As a kid, my father often sang me the Swedish translation of this little Victorian ballad. It was on a compilation of KLASSISKA SAGOR with Red Riding Hood on the cover. The Swedish version, translated by Eva von Zweigbergk, is also in the common meter or ballad meter form, making it equally singable to both "Auld Lang Syne" and "The Rains of Castamere."

POSDATA: VERSIÓN ESPAÑOLA

Apretando en su mano la mano tan besada,

dejando que las brisas alboroten

los dorados bucles en su frente viril,

por bosques y jardines cruzará con su amada,

la linda Güendolina. Los inviernos que azoten 

las matas y los árboles y celen en los cielos el añil

convertirán en plata el oro de su pelo. Mas lo ignora y atina:

también en la vejez tendrá apretada la mano de Güendolina.

Traducción: Carmen Bravo-Villasante, 1990

MARY'S ROOM; AND/OR LEXICAL MISMATCH

According to John Locke (1690, adapted to make the word "child" gender-neutral); “If a child were kept in a place where they never saw any other (colour) but black and white till they came of age, they would have no more ideas of scarlet or green than those who from their childhood never tasted an oyster or a pineapple has of those particular relishes”.
Now let's call the child Mary, teach her the basics of colour on black and white paper, and do the Mary's Room thought experiment:
Mary is a brilliant scientist who is, for whatever reason, forced to investigate the world from a black and white room via a black and white television monitor since her infancy. She specializes in the neurophysiology of vision and acquires, let us suppose, all the physical information there is to obtain about what goes on when we see ripe tomatoes, or a cloudless day sky, and use terms like 'red', 'blue', and so on. She discovers, for example, just which wavelength combinations from the sky stimulate the retina, and exactly how this produces via the central nervous system the contraction of the vocal cords and expulsion of air from the lungs that results in the uttering of the sentence 'The day sky is blue'. [···] What will happen when Mary is released from her black and white room or is given a colour television monitor? Will she learn anything or not?
According to those who devised the Mary's Room experiment, she would learn something new.

1. Mary (before her release) knows everything physical there is to know about other people/colour.
2. Mary (before her release) does not know everything there is to know about other people/colour (because she learns something about them on her release).
3. Therefore, there are truths about other people or colour (and herself) which escape the physicalist story.

We cannot review here all the works which have dealt with this issue, the list is impressive. Very briefly, one can distinguish a divergence (roughly speaking, same meaning but different syntactic structure) from a mismatch (roughly speaking, the grammar and the lexicon of the Source Language (SL) do not make some distinctions which are required by the grammar and the lexicon of the Target Language (TL)) by stating that the former shows a difference in construction (such that he swam across the river translates into French as il a traversé la rivière à la nage), whereas the latter shows a difference in meanings which are equivalent but not identical from one language to another one (such that fish translates into Spanish as pez and pescado, the former being a living fish whereas the latter is the one you eat). More attention has been paid to divergences than to mismatches, for mainly two reasons:
1 divergences have been used to provide arguments in favour of or against transfer-based and interlingua-based approaches,
2 divergences, being a syntactic phenomenon, can be detected and resolved more easily than mismatches which involve a semantic treatment, as there is, in this case, hardly any syntactic trigger.

The case of mismatches is even more problematic, as there is need not only for contextual knowledge but also for extra-linguistic knowledge, as discussed in [Kameyama et al., 1991]. We present below the semantic distinctions emphasised by [Heid, 1993]:
2.1 the TL word exhibits more semantic distinctions or finer-grained distinctions than the SL one, such that fish is lexicalised in Spanish by pez and pescado,
2.2 the TL word exhibits fewer semantic distinctions or coarser-grained distinctions than the SL one, such that the Spanish nouns pez and pescado are both lexicalised in English as fish,
2.3 the TL and SL words do not carry the same semantic distinctions; for instance, such that the Spanish verb madrugar is lexicalised in English by get up early.
We would like to add to the above list:
2.4 the TL or SL share the same semantic features but have different stylistic or pragmatic usage of their lexicalisations;
2.5 the two conceptual worlds between the languages differ; in other words, when we have a conceptual mismatch.
(For instance, for insurance policies one should not make the same inferences based on driving in left hand-side and right hand-side countries, unless the conceptual worlds have been rendered “equivalent”. For instance, the French text extracted from the French UAP corpus: l'adversaire qui prenait son virage complètement à gauche m'a heurté et maintenant il profite de ce que j'avais bu pour me donner tous les torts. Honnêtement est-ce qu'il vaut mieux être saôul à droite ou chauffard à gauche? translates into English as the adversary who took his turn completely on the left [lane] is the one who drove into me, and now he takes advantage of the fact that I had been drinking to make me responsible for all casualties. Honestly, what is the best, a drunkard on the right or a roadhog on the left? Having a Natural Language Processing (NLP) system make the same inferences for the two conceptual worlds could lead to wrong inferences in resolving further coreferences.)
2.6 there is a lexical conceptual gap between the TL and the SL; SL has a lexeme whose meaning is absent in the TL.
We call all the above distinctions “language gaps”. Our interest in resolving language gaps (i.e. when there is not a one-to-one mapping between languages, whatever the linguistic level, lexical, semantic, syntactic, etc...) using a knowledge-based approach along with planning techniques comes from noticing that all earlier work ([Lindop & Tsujii, 1993], [Dorr, 1995], [Heid, 1993], [Kameyama et al., 1991], [Levin & Nirenburg, 1993], [Palmer & Wu, 1995], ...), whatever the approach or paradigm adopted, seem to fail to solve completely (i.e., recognise and generate) language gaps. More generally, if we want to account for all types of “language gaps”, we suggest distinguishing between four major types of “language gap”, corresponding to their level of treatment:

conceptual: when the conceptual worlds representing different realities can be made “equivalent”
pragmatical: when the languages have different conventional ways of expressing a meaning semantic: when the language units share some semantics, most of it overlapping; or hardly share any semantics
lexical: when the languages share semantics but differ in lexicalisation.

We consider the four kinds of gaps as listed in (Figure 1) from a processing viewpoint, specifically, as three sub-problems of the “language gaps” theory for lexical selection in generation: synonymy, hypernymy (including hyponymy), relevancy.
2. Hypernymy. Figure 3 shows a case of hypernymy, that is, when the TL does not make distinctions required by the SL. This case is not difficult in the sense that the TL is not ambiguous with respect to itself, but just from the SL perspective. The fish example shows that in English it does not matter whether we are talking about food or animal with the word fish “conflates” both interpretations in one single word. One might talk about “vagueness” in this case. From the processing viewpoint, in a knowledge-based approach, selecting the appropriate translation candidate for the Spanish pez or pescado is equivalent to search for the least common hypernym of the semantics of the Spanish lexical items.

3. Relevancy
Figure 4 shows the most challenging case of semantic gap. This type of gap does not directly support a translation between SL and TL, but only some approximate translation that we call relevancy. By relevancy, we mean to focus on the most relevant information from the SL text to be carried across to TL to best match the most equivalently relevant information in TL. From a processing viewpoint, this case involves taking into account static and dynamic resources: conceptual world model, “script-like” information, and an engine to draw inferences on the static resources in context. Although we cannot detail the process in this paper, we will illustrate it through an example.
The relevancy process determines for a particular word or phrase in SL (sl11) the set of possible candidates, whether lexicalised or not: words and phrasals (tl21, ..., tl2n), as well as semantic representations (semk). This set will be added to the set of candidates, input to the lexical selection process. The hyper and hypo in Figure 4 stand for hypernymy and hyponymy respectively. The most difficult case of relevancy concerns when SL has a lexical item or expression which meaning is not found in TL. There, the SL lexeme(s) must be given a definiens trying to find the best words in TL to express it, this process might involve using hypernymy and hyponymy treatments and will require an inference engine.
Hyponymy can be understood as a sub-type of the relevancy type: further specifying the meaning of a SL word (sl11) to best “match” the meanings of the words from TL (tl21, tl22), requires contextual processing, but not necessarily extralinguistic knowledge. (In this sense, the hyponymy treatment includes Nirenburg’s notion of saliency which holds at the lexical level only. By saliency the author meant to lexicalise in as few lexemes as possible in the TL, the most semantic information of the input. For instance for madrugar → get up early, we would rightly match the pairs instead of generating for madrugar say get up in the morning before 6am.) For instance, assuming the semantics for fish, pez, pescado, given below, going from English to Spanish might require more or less contextual reasoning to match the SL text:
fish (X) sem: FISH (X)
pez (X) sem: FISH (X), LOCATION (WATER)
pescado (X) sem: FISH (X), EDIBLE (X)
In the presence of LOCATION (WATER) in the context of FISH, the language matcher will try to best match as much semantic as possible in TL, selecting the Spanish pez as in the example I saw many fish in Lake Powell. However, more contextual processing might be involved for the language matcher to find the best solution, in particular in the case of non literal language such as in I liked the fish I had at noon, what was it?, where the event ellipsis EAT has first to be reconstructed ([Viegas & Nirenburg, 1995]), to find that in this context FISH, as a potential theme of EAT, is of type EDIBLE and therefore pescado will be selected. EAT illustrates a case of semk in Figure 4.

Some confusion with respect to semantic gaps seems to come from a widely held belief that an SL which has fewer lexical units corresponding to a greater number of lexical units in the TL is ambiguous from a monolingual perspective, such as in the examples:
fish → pez/pescado (Spanish)
se trouver (French) → stand/lie
The word fish (ditto fisk, Fisch, poisson) becomes ambiguous only with respect to Spanish, se trouver (French) with respect to English. ( There is no consensus on what is underspecification (see [Van Deemter & Peters (eds.), 1996] for different approaches). In this paper, we will consider a lexeme as semantically underspecified when its meaning can be further specified for a particular truth value in context. For instance, fish is underspecified with respect to its ANIMAL or FOOD meanings in I bought two fish. It becomes specified in I bought two fish to put them in the aquarium, and in I bought two fish to fry them with the chips).

Oh... and, like, Spanish has "pez" for /fish as animal/ and "pescado" for /fish as food./ And the Scandinavian languages lack an exact word for the noun "mind" (translating the corresponding word, depending on the context, as "förstând" --reason--, "minne" --memory--, "tanke" --thought--, "själ" --soul--, "hjärna" --brain--, "sinne" --sense--, or "psyke"): I mean, they lack an exact word for /mind/ yet can tell between several different kinds of /snow/ (nysnö --new snow--, kornsnö --granulated snow--, snömos --creamy dirty slush formed on the streets--, kramsnö --malleable snow, ideal for building snowmen, igloos, et al.--, and so on)... A mind is a terrible thing to translate into Swedish, for instance. Seeing these cases through a Whorfian lens...

-------------------------------------------

"The reigning King of France is gay." In our reality, is this statement true or false? Given that France is a republic... The result is the Reigning King of France paradox. 
Gottlob Frege indicó que se deben descartar como sin sentido todas las oraciones cuyas palabras evidentemente se refieran a cosas inexistentes.
Compare "The reigning King of France" with "The second planet from the Sun".
Gottlob Frege's Venus experiment may suffice:

• Venus
• The morningstar
• The evenstar
• The second planet from the Sun

All four of these refer to the same celestial body. "The morningstar is the evenstar," or vice versa, 

Then, what about "pegasus" or "mermaid?" According to Frege, since there are no pegasi or merfolk in real life (confirmed so far), these nouns would lack meaning; yet anyone pictures themselves a horse with avian wings, or a person (usually female) with a fish tailfin, respectively, upon coming across these terms.
Con la distinción entre sentido y referencia, Frege puede alegar que tales nombres tienen significado porque si bien no tienen un referente, sí tienen un sentido.

Frege introduced the notion of Sense (German: Sinn) to accommodate difficulties in his early theory of meaning. And the Venus puzzle

First, if the entire significance of a sentence consists in its truth value, it follows that the sentence will have the same significance if we replace a word of the sentence with one having an identical reference, for this will not change the truth value of the sentence. The reference of the whole is determined by the reference of the parts. If 'the evenstar' has the same reference (Venus) as 'the morningstar', it follows that 'the evenstar is a body illuminated by the Sun' has the same truth value as 'the morningstar is a body illuminated by the Sun'. But someone may think that the first sentence is true, but the second is false, and so the thought corresponding to the sentence cannot be its reference, but something else, which Frege called its sense.

Second, sentences which contain proper names that have no reference cannot have a truth value at all. Yet the sentence 'Odysseus was set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep' obviously has a sense, even though 'Odysseus' has no reference. The thought remains the same whether or not 'Odysseus' has a reference. Furthermore, a thought cannot contain the objects which it is about. For example, a thought about Etna, or Eyjafjallajökull, or any other volcano, cannot contain lumps of solidified lava.

Frege's notion of sense is somewhat obscure, and neo-Fregeans have come up with different candidates for its role. 

John McDowell (“On the Sense and Reference of a Proper Name”, Mind, 86: 159–85, 1977) supplies cognitive and reference-determining roles. Devitt (Designation, 1981) treats senses as causal-historical chains connecting names to referents.

[Kameyama et al., 1991] Kameyama, M., R. Ochitani and S. Peters. 1991. Resolving Translation Mismatches With Information Flow. In Proceedings of the Association for Computational Linguistics, 1991, pp. 193-200.
[Heid, 1993] Ulrich Heid 1993. Le lexique: quelques problèmes de description et de représentation lexicale pour la traduction automatique. In P. Bouillon and A. Clas (eds), pp. 169-196.

To close with yet another thought experiment: would you rather live in a country in whose language there's a long paraphrase for /death penalty/capital punishment/ and a single easy word for /holiday/ (as in most European languages), or in one whose language has a single word for /death penalty/capital punishment/ and a paraphrase for /holiday?/ I have already made my choice referring to my own cultures (Mediterranean and Scandinavian): the first country of those proposed.

THE IRON BEDSTEAD OF KING OG

Eglon was not the only enemy ruler with an inherently funny name in the Bible. Deuteronomy gives us the far shorter and easier to spell Og (pronounced as in Mike, Lu, & Og). The only thing Og is noted for is being in possession of a massive iron bed:

For only Og king of Bashan remained of the remnant of giants; behold, his bedstead was a bedstead of iron; is it not in Rabbath of the children of Ammon (Ammonites)? nine cubits was the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it, after the cubit of a man.

Given that a cubit, as seen in my review of the Ehud and Eglon story, would equal half a meter in decimal measures, the bed would be 4.50 m long and 2 m wide. However, Deuteronomy does not mention the height of the bed of Og. Which I would need to get the whole big picture. Given the proportions, I can only estimate that the bed of Og would be 1.5 m, or three cubits, high.
In other words... what a big bed it would be!

BEVINGADE ORD: KALLE ANKA OCH HANS VÄNNER

VARJE JULAFTON KLOCKAN TRE...
...har Disneys julspecialare From All of Us to All of You, mer känd i Norden som Kalle Anka och hans Vänner (Kalle har huvudroll i Djungels pajas, som utspelar sig i Amazonas-djungeln, delad huvudroll i Campingsemester och biroll [snarare cameo] som julsångare för blott en vers ['Tis the season to be jolly] i visan vid slutet av Ekorrar i vår gran), fängslat tusentals nordiska familje- och vänkvällar vid teven och granen. Det har blivit en kanonisk jultradition vars kortfilmer och långfilmklipp (de senare kallade ursprungligen "Memorable Moments") har upprepats så ofta en gång om året att ett par tre bevingade ord med detta ursprung har fastnat i folksjälens ordförråd.
"Hon är säkrad, gamla Bettan!" "Jag ska giva dig på moppo!" "Bravo, excelente, magnífico, espléndido, henom ska vi ha! Yippi!!" Sådana uttryck har även fått liv utanför julaftonsfirandet; de har blivit till bevingade ord. I denna artikel presenterar vi en kort lista på de uttryck som vi säkert har hört utanför tv-rummet när det inte är den 24 december (förutom under julfirandet):

.............................................................................................................................

TOMTENS VERKSTAD

Vad sker? Inte så långt borta i Arktis, Tomtefar och hans nissar gör julklapparna och rensläden klara för den stora dagen.

"We've better hurry up, tomorrow's Xmas Day..."

Den här nissens förklaring visar att i Staterna, och andra länder runtom i världen (t. ex. Spanien), får ungarna --och de större ungarna-- sina klappar den 25 istället för den 24.

"A cake of soap, a cake of soap, a cake of soap..."

En busig grabb ska få en tvål i stället för julklappar. Så kommenderar Tomtefar, och sekreterar-nissen, i grönt, muttrar "a cake of soap" medan han träder in i verkstan.

CHECKERED PAINT 

Schackrutig färg. Använd av tomtenissarna för att måla schackbräden...

TOMTEFAR: Säg mamma!

ARISK DOCKA: Pappa!

TOMTEFAR: Nej, nej, nej. Säg mamma!

ARISK DOCKA: Mamma!

(Tomtefar stämplar henne där bak med okej-stämpeln och lämnar den med bläcksidan uppåt när han släpper den ariska dockan. Samtidigt rutschar en betydligt mindre feminin rasta-docka ner.)

RASTA-DOCKA: MAMMA! (Hon sätter sig på okej-stämpeln och moonar trosornas bakdel, så att tittarna får se OK-märket, innan hon går sin väg)

TOMTEFAR (skrockar): HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (Han får ett modellplan i munnen medan han skrattar, och skrockar fortfarande efter att ha tagit ut planet).

Vem kommer inte ihåg den här scenen, ärligt talat? Det blev lite stuk om rasism och sexism kring den, faktiskt...

"A very, very, merry, merry, X-MAS DAAAAAY!"

Som vi har sagt förr får andra västerländska folkslag sina klappar den 25. Kan vi då säga att svenskarna har ett privilegium?

......................................................................................................................

DJUNGELNS PAJAS (I AMAZONAS-DJUNGELN)

Vad sker? Från Norrlands iskyla till den heta och fuktiga regnskogen, där Hacke Hackspett ständigt stör en fotograferande Kalle.

"En symfoni av färg och toner kommer från djungeln. I detta paradis lever och stortrivs naturens minsta sângare, kolibrin".

Berättaren beskriver Amazonas-regnskogen för att presentera våran bakgrund.

"Zumzumzum... zumzumzumzumzum..."

Kolibrierna. Hur mânga svenskar har fâtt för sig att de låter som en barbershop-kvartett?

"Alapapapapapapapa, alapapapapapapaparia!

Alapa, paa-pa, paa-pa, paa-pa, paa-pa!

Alapapapapapapapa, alapapapapapapaparia!"

Hackes läte. Vänj er vid det, det hörs under hela kortfilmen.

"Kolibrier! Dem måste jag plåta!"

Kalle fâr syn pâ kolibrier och har kameran redo.

KOLIBRIER: Zumzumzum... zumzumzumzumzum...

HACKE (i kosackhatt, kosackdansar): Hay! Hay! Hay-hay-hay!

Kosackdansen är faktiskt lika smittsam i verkligheten som på skärmen. Hur mânga har inte dansat kosackdans vid den här scenen i kortfilmen?

"Kom tillbaka, din bofink!"

Kalle till Hacke. Gissa vem av dem som har kortast stubin.

"Barum, barum, barum, barum...

Alapapapapapapapa, alapapapapapapaparia!

Alapa, paa-pa, paa-pa, paa-pa, paa-pa!

Alapapapapapapapa, alapapapapapapaparia!"

Äntligen ger Kalle sig. If you can't beat them, join them! (Fast det var ännu värre i den ocensurerade versionen, där Kalle ger sig efter att hackspetten har överlevt att bli påskjuten med kulspruta!)

.......................................................................................................................................

ASKUNGEN

Vad sker? Den föräldralösa husans djurvänner överraskar henne med att piffa upp hennes salig mors rosa festklänning (som hon inte kommer att ha på sig på bal, eftersom de avundsjuka styvsystrarna förstör den).

"ASKUNGEN!! ASKUNGEN!!"
Styvsystrarnas gälla kommandorop övertar den första tredjedelen av scenen.

"Knappt har hon en stund att vila ropar de och hon får ila!"
Råttorna visar att de bryr sig om en alltför stressad husa.

"Nåja, vad är en bal på slottet... Det verkar nât lângtrâkigt, och dötrist, och tråkigt, och alldeles... alldeles underbart!"
Verkar som om att hon tvekar om hon ska gå på den där balen... vacklar mellan dagdröm (egentligen kvällsdröm) och realism...

"En sân överraskning! Åh, hur ska jag någonsin...? Åh... Tack så mycket!"

Askungen trycker till sitt bröst den vackra rosa kjolen som hon inte ska ha på sig på bal... vilken ironi... och att den var salig mammas ger scenen med "Din lilla tjuv!" ännu mera slagkraft...

......................................................................................................................

CAMPINGSEMESTER

Vad sker? Disneys tre musketörer Musse, Kalle och Lângben har husvagnssemester, vilket blir mer och mer kaotiskt...

"Oh boy, what a day!"
Musse sätter igång medan den idylliska villan blir till en soptipps-parkerad husvagn. Det var alltså en kuliss... som aldrig mera upprepas i kortfilmen... kanske i skymningen, i utkanten av nästa tätort, vecklas den här kulissen upp igen?

 

"Försvinn härifrån!"

Kalle drar ner rullgardiner för att skrämma bort nyfikna domherrar från fönstret under sitt morgonbad. KURIOSA: Kalle kvackar, under sitt morgonbad och medan domherrarna tittar på från fönstret, en cowboyvisa: "When It's Springtime in the Rockies".

"Jag är jättehungrig!"
Lângben vid frukostbordet, precis innan han anfaller vattenmelonen.

"Det värsta är över; nu blir det nerförsbacke!"
Långben, som p g a sin egen så kallade "försiktighet" skilts åt från sina vänner, när han ser att de står rakt framför en livsfarlig nerförsbacke.

"Jag körde ner er sakta och säkert, va?"
När Långben återförenats med vännerna säger han detta med en lätt ironisk klang. Men det klingar ännu mer ironiskt om man tänker på den ocensurerade Hollywood-versionen, där popcorn poppas ur majs som stoppas i elkontakter medan Långben får elchock och den okontrollerade husvagnen stormar över ett järnvägsspår medan bommarna åker ner och rakt innan tåget svischar fram!

...........................................................................................................

LADY OCH LUFSEN

Vad sker? Våra två kärlekskranka vovvar går på italiensk restaurang och har en romantisk kväll med kraftig frikadellpasta, ljuv musik, levande ljus och parkpromenad.

"Una minuta, una minuta! Jag kommer, jag kommer... (PAUS) Mille diavolo! Någon med mig skämta aprillo..."

Tonys första rader på svitalienska: detta pidginspråk är troligast det mest omisskänneliga i scenen.

"Hallâ, Buster... var kan du vara så länge?"

Obern Tony, som är van vid att kalla Lufsen för Buster, har inte sett honom på ett tag.

"Caro mio, caro Buster!"

Liksom Tony talar även kökschefen svitalienska.

TONY: Giva ben till Buster innan han äta mig opp!

KÖKSCHEFEN: Si, si! Ben komma pronto!

Pronto betyder faktiskt hej på italienska; strax heter presto. Har kökschefen även plockat upp lite spanska?

TONY: Vad vara detta... hej, jo, titta! Buster sig skaffat ny fästmö!

KÖKSCHEFEN: Sancta simplicitas! Han skaffat sig cocker-spaniel-flicka!

TONY: Li-i-iten vacker signorina, Buster...

Restaurangstaben lär känna Lady: det blir en positiv överraskning.

TONY (till Lufsen): Du lyda Tonys råd och flytta ihop med denna där, eh? Hahahaha...

LADY: Denna där?

LUFSEN: Äh, denna där, denna där... Tony, forstår du, kan inte... han kan inte klara språket särskilt bra.

Detsamma kan sägas om min göteborgske farsa när han talar spanska... men hans italienska och franska är ännu värre!

"SACRAMENTO IDIOTO! JAG SKA GIVA DIG PÅ MOPPO! (Ikväll ska Buster givas det bästa 'uset 'ava!)"

En vredgad Tony risar kökschefen för att ha lagat ben när "Buster" har kommit med sin vackra käresta.

TONY: Buster sägga han beställa tvâ spaghetti spesiale och massa fricadelle!

KÖKSCHEFEN: Tony, hundar icke prata!

TONY: Han pratar med miig!

KÖKSCHEFEN: Ha-ha, han prata med diig, du vara chef. (PAUS) Mamma mia, hundar börja tala mat...

TONY (serverar pastan till Lady och Lufsen): Varsågoda, de godaste spaghetti i stada!

Kärleken är förresten serverad likaså med visan som följer och spaghettikyssarna.

Oh, denna natt,

denna härliga natt,

som vi kallar bella notte...

Se vilken syn,

alla stjärnor i skyn,

denna ljuva bella notte...

Questa dolce, bella notte... en visa som lämnar ingen oberörd. Precis som det låter. 

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DJUNGELBOKEN

Vad sker? Människovalpen Mowgli fâr en ny vän i skepnad av svartbjörnen Baloo, som han delar glada och frejdiga stunder med.

"Jag är en doobididoo,

du är en doobididoo,

jag menar doobi-doobi-doobi-doobi-doobididoo!

Jamen!"

Baloo presenteras med denna frejdiga trudelutt när han plötsligt stöter på en människovalp. This will be the beginning of a wonderful friendship...

"Han är i fara, jag skulle inte ha lämnat honom ensam!"
En oroad Bagheera skyndar fram till gläntan, fruktandes det värsta efter att ha hört Mowglis och Baloos kapprytande.

"Tungviktskungen!"

En vacklande Baloo efter en höger-uppercut frân sin nye sapiens-myndling.

"Inte kittlas! Inte kittlas, jag står inte ut..."
Skrattar en nyknockad svartbjörn med en människovalp på ryggen. Ser ut som om Baloo är rätt kittlig...

"Har du fått spader?"
Sâ reagerar Baloo när Bagheera vill ta Mowgli till byn med sina artsfränder, men sistnämnde har fått blodad tand för sin nye vän.

"Han är med mig, jag ska lära honom allt jag kan!"
Världens gladaste björn försvarar sin rättighet till vârdnaden och lyckas.

MOWGLI: Äta myror?
BALOO: Hehe... Det är världens käk, kittlar dödskönt i kistan!
(Stenen under vilken de jagar myror hotar att falla på dem)
BAGHEERA: Mowgli, SE UPP! (Lyckligtvis har han klarat sig)
Hur många människovalpar har provat att äta myror, egentligen?

Vill du plocka frukter av bästa klass
sâ använd din höger- och vänstertass!
Ett utsökt râd av Baloo: då får man dubbelt upp med frukt, faktiskt.

"sâ fort du ska ta dig en fin apelsin!"
Egentligen, i originalet, var det fråga om en papaya: "the fruit of the big pawpaw." När man översätter sångtexter avsedda att sjungas i översättning kommer musiken allra först; alltså blir det i allmänt fall en fri översättning där man till högre eller lägre grad tvingas förråda förlagan.

...........................................................................................................................

SNÖVIT

Vad sker? Festkväll hos de sju dvärgarna med joddel, folkmusik, dans, och Toker och Prosit som ställer sig den ene på den andres axlar för att ge prinsessan en jämnhög danspartner.

"Jag skuttar gärna kring i dans, men jag har tappat takten;

jag ser den inte någonstans... var sjutton har jag lagt 'en?"

Glader, som frejdigt sjunger första strofen.

"Jag... Jag... Jag... TUUUT!" (Butters orgel på högsta nivå)

Blyger fâr självklart scenskräck innan han vâgar sjunga sina rävverser.

"Jag fångade en räv en dag, men räven gled ur näven,

fast jag är lika glad för det, men gladast är nog räven!"

Blygers ovannämnda rävverser.

"Åh hum, vår sång är dum, den är ju ingenting:

vad gör det om hundra år när allting kommer kring?"

Refrängen, som sjungs av dvärgarna i kör.

"PIIIP!"

Den gällaste noten i Butters orgel, som pips av en mekanisk kyckling när denne kläcks ur sitt ägg.

"Atchitemoo... atchitti atchitti, atch... atch... atchoo...!"

Prosit kan inte behärska sig längre och nyser så att Toker far till väders som skjuten ur en kanon.

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FERDINAND

Vad sker? Herr och fru Svensson, innan den första solsemestern utomlands, lärde sig "en hel del" om Spanien som barn tack vare denna pacifistiska historia om en andalusisk ungtjur som vill hellre lukta på blommorna.

"En gång för länge sen i soliga Spanien fanns det en liten tjur som hette Ferdinand".

Berättaren presenterar våran hjälte, den ende svarte, fredlige och vänlöse kalven i ett andalusiskt landskap.

"Men det gjorde inte Ferdinand. Han hade sitt eget favoritställe ute på ängen, under en korkek, och där satt han lugnt och stilla i skuggan hela dagarna... och luktade på blommorna".

Hur många Svenssons har trott som barn att korken var ekens frukt (och inte dess bark)?

MAMMA: Hör du Ferdinand? Värför leker inte du med de andra små tjurarna?

FERDI: Jag trivs bättre här, där jag kan ha det lugnt och skönt... och lukta på blommorna...

Det interessanta är både mammans och kalv-Ferdis röster.

"Och hon var en så fin och förstående mor, fast hon var en ko... (KOSKÄLLA, Ferdis mamma blänger surt mot kameran)"

Berättarens ord tar Ferdis mamma som en skymf; på andra sprâk är "cow" och "vaca" om en kvinna riktiga förolämpningar. En fanastisk brytning av fjärde väggen.

"Allt eftersom åren gick, blev Ferdinand större... (korkekens bark har 1 AÑO ristat)... och större... (ekens bark har II AÑOS ristat)... och STÖRRE (ekens bark har III AÑOS ristat, vi ser därpå en treårig vuxen Ferdinand i jämförelse med eken). Och en dag var han jättestor och jättestark!

Första gângen små Svenssons ser bokstaven Ñ i sitt liv. Och en viss "svansk" tjej lär sig att nötkreatur är redan unga vuxna som treåringar.

"Han satte sig, utan att se efter var han satte sig, och han satte sig... RAKT PÅ EN HUMLA!!"

Rakt på en humla. Alltså den chock man får när man oförväntat hör de orden för första gângen.

1:E HERREN: Bravo!

2:E HERREN: Excelente!

3:E HERREN: Magnífico!

4:E HERREN: Espléndido!

5:E HERREN: Honom ska vi ha!

ALLA FEM: Yippiii!!

Talangscouternas reaktion när de ser en av ovannämnda humlestick omtöcknad Ferdinand löpa amok.

"Vilken dag! Flaggorna vajade i vinden! Orkestrar spelade!"

Berättaren verkar vara euforisk. Är det kappsegling eller är det lördag?

"En stor parad tågade in på arenan. (FANFAR) Först kom banderiljärerna. (FANFAR) Och sedan... Picadorerna! Och sedan... MATADOREN, den stoltaste av dem alla! (Efter matadoren kommer det en lakej med värjan på en kudde)".

Och sâ lär sig Svensson-ungarna hur en corrida börjar. Och ofta undrar de om alla spanjackerna är verkligen sâ fula.

"Banderiljärerna blev rädda för honom, och picadorerna blev rädda för honom, och matadoren... han blev jätterädd! (Matadoren har frusit på sin plats)"

"Banderiljärerna blev arga, och picadorerna blev ännu argare... och matadoren blev argast av dem alla!"

Berättaren beskriver vad som visas på skärmen. Det här är poesi i prosaform: lägg bara märke till rytmen.

"KÄMPA! VAD 'E DET MED DIG!? SÄTT IGÅNG! KOM IGEN! KOM IGEN DÅ!"

Ryter matadoren när han har blivit argast av dem alla.

"Matadoren... han gör fula grimaser! (MATADOREN GÖR OLIKA FULA GRIMASER)"

Berättaren beskriver vad som visas på skärmen. Ärligt talat... vem har inte gjort âtminstone en av dessa fula grimaser, de flesta av vilka kretsar runt att räcka ut tungan, framför spegeln?

BERÄTTARE: Matadoren tiggde och bad: 

MATADOREN (desperat): Snälla du! Stånga mig! Sparka mig! Gör nånting! HOPPA PÅ MIG! (Han blottar sitt bröst och visar en aster-tatuering, som en förtjust Ferdinand slickar. Därpå brister matadoren i grât).

BERÄTTARE (desperat): Matadoren var så ilsken så han grät, för han fick inte visa hur tapper han var, med sin cape och sitt svärd!

Att han i vredesmod slet sitt hår och bröt värjan med bara händerna är dock det mest ironiska.

"De blev helt enkelt tvungna att skicka hem Ferdinand. (PAUS) Och, så vitt jag vet, sitter han fortfarande under sin korkek... (PAUS) och luktar på sina blommor (PAUS) och han är SÅÅÅ lycklig".

Slutet gott, som i de flesta sagor. Vilket för oss till nästa filmklipp, ur Robin Hood.

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ROBIN HOOD

Vad sker? Robin Hood och Lille John bryter sig in hos den elake prinsen för att beslagta "hans" skatt och befria fångarna.

"Hon är säkrad, gamla Bettan!"

Trigger, livgardist, ironiskt angående armborst.

SHERIFFEN: Vad i självaste håller du på med, hönshjärna?

TRIGGER: Bara min plikt, sheriffen!

Lât oss konfrontera verkligheten: vem av er har inte haft den här ordväxlingen med nâgon annan? Precis som grevinnan Sophies ordväxling med betjänten James om "samma procedur", har den blivit en julklassiker.

"Prisa Guud! Här kommer skatteåterbäringen!"

Bror Tuck när fångarna får en stor del av prinsens skatt inskjutsad i fängelsehålan.

"Allt mitt guuld! Allt mitt guuuld! Vakter! Vakter! De smiter med allt mitt guuuld!"

Prinsens reaktion när han vaknar och får se vad Robin håller på med.

"Så fick Robin Hood sin Marion till sist. Slutet gott, som i de flesta sagor".

Berättaren avslutar klippet med en romantisk scen och dessa rader.

"Oohdilelly, oohdilelly, hoppsan vilken dag,

Oohdilelly, oohdilelly, hoppsan...

en... sån... daaaaag!"

Sången som spelas när Robin Hood får sin Marion (vid en sjö upplyst av eldflugor). Egentligen var det en annan sång som spelades i den här scenen i filmen (i motsats till julspecialaren).

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EKORRAR I VÅR GRAN

Vad sker? Piff och Puff hamnar hos Musse med den i skogen nyss huggna färska julgranen. Räkna alltså med kalabalik!

(Bjällerklang, bjällerklang...) Instrumentellt med bjällror och Musses visslande.

När Musse dyker upp med julprydnader visslar han Bjällerklang/Jingle Bells: det är kortfilmens soundtrack/ledmotiv, praktiskt taget.

"Vi har ekorrar i vår gran! (PAUS) Det är ju i alla fall jul..."

Musse när han blir varse om fripassagerarna, som har gjort granen och flera andra prydnader osäkra: blott ruiner består. Även om det är mycket svårare att få ekorrar i granen här i Europa än i Staterna (chipmunks är ju typiska för Nordamerika, och våra röda ekorrar klättrar inte upp i unggranar), kan man säga det här när en julhelg blir i huvudsak förstörd.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, falalalala la la la la;

'tis the season to be jolly, falalalala la la la la..."

Långben, Kalle och Mimmi sjunger denna anglofona julvisa framför Musses fönster.