Maryniak Viktoriia, FL-34

Translation task: rendering the meaning of nationally specific

notions of lexicon

Original text in source language:

По обіді Кайдашиха загадала невістці насіяти борошна, а потім

вчинить діжу, а сама знов полізла на піч спати, а виспавшись,
встала й пішла до сусіди в гості. Мотря задумалась, соваючи ситом
по сійцях, перекладених уподовж ночовок. Вона догадалась, що її
свекруха недобра і що під її солодкими словами ховається гіркий
полин. Але Мотря була не з таківських, щоб комусь покорятись.
Другого дня Кайдашиха знов збудила рано невістку, а сама
вкрилась з головою на печі й заохала. Мотря вже не йняла віри тому
оханню. Вона зварила обід, замісила діжу. Роботи було багато.
Невістка вешталась, наче муха в окропі, скрізь встигала, а свекруха,
вставши з печі, тільки хату вимела, ще й сміття покинула зараз за
порогом. Мотря вже сердито поглядала на свекруху й насилу
здержувала свого язика. Виплескала вона хліб, посаджала в піч і
подала на стіл обід. Борщ вийшов несмачний. Свекруха тільки
ложку вмочила й не їла борщу.
— Недобрий, дочко, сьогодні зварила борщ. Мабуть, і сьогодні
сало збігло, — сказала Кайдашиха.
— Бо ви, мамо, не дуже помагали мені варити, а в мене не
десять рук, а тільки дві, — одрізала Мотря.
— Хто видав так говорить матері! — сказала Кайдашиха
навчаючим голосом. — Коли не вмієш гаразд, то треба вчитись. І я
не вміла, але пани вивчили мене на економії.
 — Я, хвалити бога, панщини не робила й у панів не вчилась, —
знов одрубала Мотря.
Кайдашиха замовкла й прикусила язика. Вона догадалась, що
Мотря не замовчуватиме.
Настала субота. Роботи було ще більше. Кайдашиха тільки хату
замела та й сіла коло вікна старі сорочки латать. Мотря підмазала
стіни, обмазала комин, грубу, припічок. Кайдашиха прийшла до
комина, заклала руки за спину, нахилила голову до комина і
роздивлялась, чи добре невістка помазала.
— Помаж, моя дитино, комин ще раз. Як мажеш, то не крути
дуже віхтем, а так, моє серденько, дрібненько та дрібненько перше
вподовж, а потім упоперек, отак, отак, отак! А то, бач, скрізь віхті
знать, — сказала Кайдашиха…
(Excerpt from "Kaidash's Family" by Ivan Nechuy-Levytsky; approx.
1,937 characters with spaces)

Translation by DeepL ([Link]

After lunch, Mrs Kaidash told her daughter-in-law to sift some flour and
then prepare the dough, whilst she herself climbed back onto the oven to
sleep; having had her rest, she got up and went to visit a neighbour.
Motria fell deep in thought, sifting the flour through a sieve placed over
the sieves laid out along the nightgowns. She realised that her
mother-in-law was unkind and that bitter wormwood lay hidden beneath
her sweet words. But Motria was not the sort to submit to anyone.

The next day, Kaidashykha woke her daughter-in-law early once more,
whilst she herself covered her head on the stove and groaned. Motria no
longer believed that moaning. She cooked lunch and kneaded the dough.
There was plenty of work to do. The daughter-in-law bustled about like a
fly in boiling water, managing everything, whilst her mother-in-law,
having risen from the stove, merely swept the house and left the rubbish
right outside the threshold. Motria was already glaring angrily at her
mother-in-law and struggled to hold her tongue. She shaped the bread,
put it in the oven, and served lunch. The borscht turned out tasteless.
Her mother-in-law merely dipped her spoon in it and didn’t eat any.

‘It’s not very good, my dear; the borscht you’ve made today isn’t up to
scratch. I suppose the fat has gone to the bottom again,’ said Mrs
Kaidash.

‘That’s because you didn’t help me much with the cooking, Mum, and I
don’t have ten hands, only two,’ retorted Motria.

‘Who taught you to speak to your mother like that!’ said Kaidashiha in a
lecturing tone. ‘If you don’t know how to do something properly, you
have to learn. I didn’t know how either, but the lords taught me how to
manage the household.’

‘Thank God, I never did serf labour and I didn’t learn from the lords,’
Motria snapped again.

Kaidashiha fell silent and bit her tongue. She realised that Motria would
not keep quiet.

Saturday arrived. There was even more work to do. Kaidashiha merely
swept the house and sat by the window to mend some old shirts. Motria
whitewashed the walls, the chimney, the hearth and the stove.
Kaidashiha came over to the chimney, put her hands behind her back,
bent her head towards the chimney and examined whether her
daughter-in-law had whitewashed it properly.
‘Smear it, my dear, smear the chimney once more. When you smear it,
don’t twist the brush too much, but rather, my sweetheart, gently and
gently, first lengthwise, then crosswise, like this, like this, like this!
Otherwise, you see, there’ll be brush marks everywhere,’ said
Kaidashiha…

Translation by Google Translate

([Link]

After dinner, Kaydashikha ordered her daughter-in-law to sow the flour,

and then make the dough, and she herself climbed onto the stove to sleep
again, and after getting some sleep, she got up and went to visit her
neighbor. Motrya thought, poking a sieve through the sows that had been
laid out along the nightstand. She guessed that her mother-in-law was
not kind and that bitter wormwood was hiding under her sweet words.
But Motrya was not the kind of person to obey anyone. The next day,
Kaydashikha woke her daughter-in-law up early again, and she herself
covered herself with her head on the stove and sighed. Motrya no longer
believed this flattery. She cooked dinner, kneaded the dough. There was
a lot of work. The daughter-in-law was wandering around like a fly in
boiling water, she managed to get everywhere, and the mother-in-law,
getting up from the stove, only swept the house, and also left the garbage
right outside the threshold. Motrya was already looking angrily at her
mother-in-law and barely held her tongue. She threw out the bread, put
it in the oven and served dinner on the table. The borscht turned out to
be tasteless. The mother-in-law only dipped a spoon and did not eat the
borscht.
— You are not kind, daughter, today you cooked borscht. Apparently, the
fat ran out today too, — said Kaydashikha.
— Because, mother, you did not help me much with cooking, and I do not
have ten hands, but only two, — Motrya cut off.
— Who betrayed me speaks like that to my mother! — said Kaydashikha
in a teaching voice. — If you do not know how to cook properly, then you
must study. And I did not know how, but the gentlemen taught me how
to save money.
— I, thank God, did not do serfdom and did not study with the
gentlemen, — Motrya cut off again.
Kaydashikha fell silent and bit her tongue. She guessed that Motrya
would not keep quiet.
Saturday came. There was even more work to do. Kaydashikha had just
swept the house and sat by the window mending old shirts. Kaydashikha
oiled the walls, oiled the chimney, the stove, and the firebox.
Kaydashikha came to the chimney, put her hands behind her back,
leaned her head toward the chimney, and looked to see if her
daughter-in-law had oiled it well.
— Oil the chimney again, my child. When you oil it, don’t turn it too
much with the fan, but like this, my dear, little by little, first lengthwise,
and then across, like this, like this, like this! And then, look, everywhere
you know, — said Kaydashikha…

Translation by QuillBot ([Link] :

After lunch, Kaidashikha ordered her daughter-in-law to sift flour, then
make dough, while she herself climbed back onto the stove to sleep. After
resting, she got up and went to visit the neighbor. Motrya fell into
thought, sifting thru the grains, which were laid out along the edges of
the kneading troughs. She guessed that her mother-in-law was not kind
and that beneath her sweet words lay bitter wormwood. But Motrya was
not the kind of person to submit to anyone.
The next day, Kaidashikha woke her daughter-in-law early again, while
she herself covered her head with a blanket on the stove and began to
moan. Motrya no longer believed that moaning. She cooked lunch and
kneaded the dough. There was a lot of work. The daughter-in-law was
bustling around like a fly in boiling water, managing everything, while
the mother-in-law, after getting up from the stove, only swept the house
and even left the trash right at the doorstep. Motrya was already looking
angrily at her mother-in-law and was barely holding her tongue. She
kneaded the bread, put it in the oven, and served lunch on the table. The
borscht turned out tasteless. The mother-in-law just dipped a spoon in
and didn't eat the borscht.
— Not good, daughter, today I made borscht. Perhaps the lard has run
out again today, — said Kaidashikha.
— Because you, mother, didn't help me much with the cooking, and I
don't have ten hands, just two, — Matrya snapped.
— Who told you to speak like that to your mother! — said Kaidashikha in
a teaching tone. — If you don't know how to do it properly, then you need
to learn. And I didn't know, but the lords taught me about economy.
— I, thank God, never did corvée labor and never learned from the
gentry, — Motrya cut in again.
Kaidashikha fell silent and bit her tongue. She guessed that Motrya
wouldn't remain silent.
Saturday arrived. There was even more work to do. Kaidashikha just
swept the house and sat by the window to patch up old shirts. Motrya
plastered the walls, smeared the chimney, the stove, and the hearth.
Kaidashikha approached the chimney, clasped her hands behind her
back, leaned her head toward the chimney, and inspected whether her
daughter-in-law had smeared it well.
— Smear the chimney again, my child. When you smear, don't twist the
brush too much, but like this, my dear, first gently and finely along, and
then across, like this, like this, like this! And then, you see, the dough will
know everyplace, — said Kaidashikha...

Analysis: Of the AI translations analysed, DeepL performed best, as it

produces the most natural-sounding text and is more accurate in terms
of grammar compared to Google Translate and QuillBot. Google
Translate proved to be the least effective due to numerous
mistranslations and inaccuracies, such as the literal rendering of
‘насіяти борошна’ as ‘sow the flour’ (sowing in the sense of planting)
and ‘підмазала стіни’ as ‘oiled the walls’ (greased with oil). QuillBot
offered an acceptable option, but it often repeated the limited
terminology and structural errors of other systems, such as using the
word ‘fan’ to translate the word ‘віхоть’. As expected, in all the
translations, culturally specific vocabulary has been translated
incorrectly – idioms have been translated literally, and cultural
references have been rendered either too simplistically or completely
incorrectly. As the DeepL translation turned out to be the best, I decided
to edit that one.

Edited text:

In the afternoon, Kaidashykha (the wife of the elder Kaidash) told her
daughter-in-law to sift some flour and then set up a sourdough starter,
whilst she herself climbed back onto the pich1 to sleep; having had her
rest, she got up and went to visit a neighbour. Motria was lost in thought,
sliding the sieve over the wooden slats laid along the kneading trough.

1
The traditional Ukrainian pich (masonry stove) was a large brick or clay structure used for
cooking, heating the house, and as a warm elevated area for sleeping.
She realized that her mother-in-law was unkind and that bitter
wormwood was hidden beneath her sweet words. But Motria was not the
one to knuckle under to anyone.

The next day, Kaidashykha woke her daughter-in-law early again, while
she herself buried her head in the bedding on top of the pich and started
groaning. Motria no longer put any faith in that moaning. She cooked the
midday meal and kneaded the dough in the trough. There was a great
deal of work to be done. The daughter-in-law was scurrying about like a
busy bee, getting everything done in time, while her mother-in-law,
having climbed down from the pich, did no more than sweep the floor —
and even then, she left the sweepings right by the threshold. Motria was
already casting angry glances at her mother-in-law and struggling to
hold her tongue. She patted the loaves into shape, set them in the pich,
and served the midday meal. The borscht turned out tasteless. Her
mother-in-law barely touched it with her spoon and wouldn't eat any of
it.

‘You’ve cooked a poor borshch today, daughter. The lard must have
boiled over again today,’ said Kaidashykha.

‘Well, mother, it’s because you didn’t help me much with the cooking,
and I don’t have ten hands, but only two,’ Motria snapped.

‘Whoever heard of speaking to a mother like that!’ Kaidashykha said in a

lecturing tone. ‘If you don’t know how to do it properly, you must learn. I
didn't know how either, but the lords taught me at the manor estate.’

‘I, thank God, never did any serf labor and never learned from the lords,’
Motria snapped back once more.
‘Kaidashykha fell silent and bit her tongue. She realized that Motria
would not keep silent.’

Saturday arrived. There was even more work to be done. Kaidashykha

did no more than sweep the floor and sat down by the window to mend
old shirts. Motria touched up the walls and plastered the pich — the
smoke-hood above the fire, the heat-retaining wall, and the ledge in front
of the oven. Kaidashykha walked up to the smoke-hood, clasped her
hands behind her back, tilted her head toward the hood, and inspected
whether her daughter-in-law had done the plastering well.

Plaster the smoke-hood once more, my child. ‘When you plaster, don't
swirl the wisp2 too much, but do it like this, my dear heart—fine and
small strokes, first lengthwise and then crosswise, just like this, like this,
like this! Otherwise, you see, the marks of the wisp show everywhere,’
said Kaidashykha…

2
Wisp (Ukr. vikhot) — a bundle of straw, coarse hay, or twisted rags used as a traditional tool in
19th-century Ukrainian households. In the context of domestic work, it served as a primitive brush for
whitewashing walls or applying a thin layer of liquid clay to the pich.