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Aymee Smith

Lady Chatterley’s Lover: a Google Translation of the Entire Novel

In Aymee Smith’s bookwork, Lady Chatterley’s Lover has been through a series of five translations: from English to Icelandic, then to Italian, Portuguese, Swedish, Welsh, and then back into English, using Google Translate. This use of computer translation, where there is no space for human error or manipulation, calls into question the task of the translator. The human translator is free to manipulate words as they wish: if a sentence does not ‘feel right’, then they can change it. The computer translates word-for-word, and the resulting text, while perhaps a ‘pure’ translation, makes little sense.


Aymee Smith’s project has been brought to life at public readings of the book. Extracts were presented at The London Art Book Fair in the Whitechapel Gallery on 23 September 2011, and the entire book was read publically in a single day, 25 January 2012, at The Leeds City Library, when readers tried to bring life, and sense, back into the work.


Some selected short extracts from the book are presented below.

So Connie watched him run. And the same unique individual had seen nude, she saw him wearing: its isolation, and intend, as a working animal, but also think that Recon soul far off from all human contact. Quiet, patient, there was a second-ling away from him now. He was lucky, calm and everlasting patience and love in a man impatient kind, timeless patience, of a man impatient and passionate that touched Connie's womb. She saw his head bent, hands quiet quickly, crouching her slender, delicate neck, one patient ago. He felt his experience is deeper and wider than its much deeper and broader, and perhaps more deadly. And it frees itself, she felt almost irresponsible.
So she sat in the foyer of the dream, oblivious to time and circumstances. It was so remote that glanced and saw absolutely still, waiting look on her face. It looks at waiting. A thin tongue of fire suddenly flickered in his back, at the bottom of my back, and he groaned in spirit. It fears that the horror of death is close, increasingly close, human contact. He wished above all that would disappear and leave him his privacy. He feared that it will insist on women and modern women. And above all he feared the cold, their arrogance of the upper class to get his way.

… …

Some things cannot be hijacked. You cannot rape a can of sardines. And as many women as men. But the earth!

… …

The only wonder briefly, why? Why was this necessary? Why does it raise a large cloud, and brought her peace? Was this true? Was this true?
There is a modern woman tormented even at rest. Was this true? And she knew it has given to man, it was true. But if she kept to herself, it was nothing. He was old, millions of years, he said. And finally, could shoulder the burden for themselves, not more. He was being taken. Taken.
The man was in a mysterious silence. When he tried? What was said? She did not know. It was a strange man, she did not. Should we stay alone, they are not brave enough to break their silence mysterious. He was there with his arms around her, his body, his wet body touching to her, so close. It is completely unknown. And yet, without peace. His silence is very quiet.

… …

"No, I have to run”, he said, “a bit", wild.
"Yeah," he said suddenly changes, dropped.
He turned, and the instant she turned to him saying. Kiss me "
He bent over her divorce and kissed her on the left eye. She held her mouth and kissed it gently, but soon quit. He hated to kiss her mouth.
“I want tomorrow”, he said, turning away, "if I can," he added.
"Yeah!"
“Is not too late", said the dark. When she sees him at all.
"Good night," he said.
"Good evening, your ship wife," her voice.
She stopped and looked back at the wet darkness. He could only see more of it. "Why do you say?" He said.
"No," he said. "Goodnight then, run!"

… …

It was like bells rippling up and up. She was unaware of the wild cry he uttered the last. But it was early, too early and she could no longer set his own collection, with its activities. This time was different, different. She would do anything. She could no longer harden and grip for your personal satisfaction with him. He could only wait and complain in spirit as he felt that fade, dissolve and agreement terrible time when it would go away from him and go. While his life was open and soft, and cried softly as the anemone earth, claiming to come back and do it for compliance. She clung to him unconscious with a passion, and never let go of her and she felt the soft bud of him in his mixing, and the strange rhythms wash into a strange rhythmic growing its offering, swelling and swelling till it filled the entire portion of its consciousness, and then began again the unspeakable motion that was actually moving, but the feeling of pure whirling swirling deeper and deeper into all the tissues in your consciousness, until it was perfect concentric fluid feeling, and she lay there crying in unconscious anhuawdl. Voice definitely hot night! The man felt some kind of fear, how life arose from it. He fell when he pulled very strongly and it was very quiet, not knowing, while his mastery of the slow, relaxed, and she was lifeless. And they lay and knew nothing, not even to the other loses.

… …

Connie went slowly home, realizing the depth of one thing about it. Another car was still alive in her burning lava and soft in your life and intestines, and I love him. He loved until my knees were weak as she walked. In the lives of his intestine flowing and alive now and vulnerable and helpless in adoration of it as the most naive woman. It's like a child, she told herself, it's like a kid in me. And he did so, as if his life had always been closed, was open and full of new life, almost a burden, but it is great.

… …

Tevershall! And it was Tevershall! England, the better! Shakespeare's England! No, but Britain today, as Connie knew the time had come to live. And it was developing a new kind of men, too conscious about money and the role of social and political dead hand of spontaneous, intuitive, but it will die. Half-bodies, all of them, but with a terrible reminder of awareness of the second half. There was something mysterious and underground at all. It has been under-world. And quite incalculable. How should we understand the reaction of quasi-similar? When Connie saw the great lorries full of steel workers from Sheffield, weird, distorted smallish beings like men from a trip to Matlock, her bowels fainted and she thought: Ah God, what would you do? What are the heads of men who fulfill their samferðamönnum? The loss of at least human-ness, and now we can be friends anymore! Nothing but a nightmare. She heard the new wave of terror, despair, dull gray of everything. With such creatures for the industrial force, and the upper classes as she knew there was no hope, no hope.

… …

"Why are you in a bad mood?" He asked. "You mean you're always in a bad mood?
"Good," she laughed. "I do not quite digest my bile."
“But what bile?” he said.
“Bile!” he said. "You do not know what it is?" She was quiet and disappointing. He was not aware of it.
And now his heart is to imagine weird that he woke up. Man! Strange power of manhood go! Her hands wandered over him, still a little scared. Fear of foreign, hostile, a little thing which was abhorrent to her husband. And now she touched him, and the son of God to women from men. How beautiful he felt and fabric, how beautiful is that, as beautiful, strong and still clean and nice, quiet and sensitive for measuring the performance of tasty meat in silence. Good! Good! Her hands were terrible in the back, the soft, small globes of her ass. Beauty, what a beauty! Sudden little flame of new awareness went through her. How was it possible, this beauty here, where the past has been rejected only? Indescribable beauty of record heat, the long-ago life, life, life, beauty, warm clean and powerful. And the strange weight of a ball between his legs! What a mystery! What a strange heavy weight of a mystery, which would be soft and heavy in the hand of man! Roots, the root all that is beautiful, in the heart of all beauty.
She clung to him with a hiss of wonder that was almost fear, horror. He held her close, but said nothing. Would never say anything. He crept close to him, including not only close to the sensual wonder of it. And the absolute silence is incomprehensible, she, she was once a place of great importance for the slow growth of the phallus again, the power. And her heart melted with some kind of respect.
And this time within her was all soft and iridescent, shimmering soft and pure, the awareness cannot see. The whole being quivered unconscious and alive, like plastic. She could not know what it was. She could not remember what it was. Only it was not more beautiful than anyone could be. That's right. And then it was still to be fully, completely unconscious, he was not aware of the time. And he was still with her inscrutable silence her. And they never talk.
Awareness began to return abroad, when it hung against his chest, murmuring, "I love my boyfriend" and held in silence. And she presents on his chest, ideal.
But his silence was fathomless. Her hands are like flowers, so still and strange. "Where are you?" She whispered to him. "Where are you? Talk to me! Say something to me!
He kissed her softly, murmuring: “Yes, my daughter".
But she did not know what he meant, he did not know where it was. The silence seemed lost to her.

… …

"Looks like you had horrible experiences of women", he said.
"See, we can not fool me. That's where most men manage. They take sides, and accept a lie. We can never fool me. I knew I wanted a woman, and I've never was able to say that I am, I know when to charge."
“But you have now?”
"I feel like I can."
"And why are you so pale and sad?”
"Eat to remember, and perhaps afraid of me."
He sat in silence. It was getting late.
"And do you think is important, a man and a woman?" he asked.
"For me it is for me the essence of my life. If I was a woman right.
"And if you do not understand?"
"And I would do without it."
Again she pondered, before asking:
"Do you think that has always been right with women?”
"God, I left my wife to get what it was!. It's my fault, I ruin a lot and I'm very doubtful to expect that it has a lot to me ... to trust anyone, the inside. I could be a scam too. Trust. And is not liking to be wrong.
She looked at him.
"Do not mistrust your body when the blood rises", he said. You are not a suspect?"
"No, sorry! So I have all the problems. And that's why my mind is so full alert.”
Let your mind mistrust. Who cares!
The dog sighed with discomfort in his bed. Ash-fire clogged sink.

… …

Because when I feel that the human world is doomed, condemned by his own worldliness mangy animals, so I found a colony not far away. The moon is that, where you can look back and see the country, dirty, beastly, disgusting, among the stars: made foul by men, so I feel like I swallowed the bile, and eat my release, and it is never far to go But when I forget it all again. Although it is sin, as was done for the people of the past hundred years. The men were turned into nothing more than a place of flies, and all his manhood taken away, and every one of his true self remove the machinery and land back at the end of the industrial era altogether, like a black mistake But I do not think anyone, can you better hold my peace, and "test" to live my life. If I have a thing living, I doubt it, but.

… …

"Yes! And you? You are the mortar Lady Red Hot?”
"Yeah!" he said. "Yes you are Sir Lady mortar.“
"Okay, so I was knighted. John Thomas, Sir John, Lady Jane."
"Yes, John Thomas, knight, I have my wife-maiden-hair, and you must have flowers too. Yes!”
She threaded two ions rose in her red-gold hair of Mr. Bush on his penis.
"No!" He said. "House: Charming, Sir John!”
He just shot forget-me-us in the dark hair on his chest.
"And do not forget me, huh?" She kissed him on the chest, and made two bits of forget-me-not put one in each nipple, kissing him again.
"Make a calendar with me!" he said. He laughed and pressed flowers in the chest.
"Wait a minute!" He said.
He got up and opened the cockpit door. Flossie, lying in the room stood up and looked at it.
"Yeah, me!" he said.
The rain had ceased. E' wet, quiet, heavily scented. The evening was approaching.
It is left up the small path in the opposite direction from the rear. Connie looked very white pictures, it seemed like the spirit, apparition moving away from him.
When he saw nothing, his heart sank. He was at the door of the room, with blankets around them, look at wet, continuing silence.
But he came back, trotting strangely, and carrying flowers. It was a bit afraid of him, as if it was not completely human. As he related, he saw his eyes on her, but she could not understand the meaning.
Columbine was a field and ions, and newly cut hay, and oak chips and Honeysuckle on a little gem. Founded fluffy young oak shoots around her breasts, sticking in tufts of Blue Bell and Candelaria, and remained in her belly button and a pink flower in her hair Campion was one to forget-me-sadly and wooden beads.
"You all their glory!" he said. "Lady Jane, her marriage to John Thomas."
And he put the flowers in the hair of his body, and just relax-Jenny from around his penis and shoved clock hyacinth in her navel. She looks at him with amusement, intention strange. Campion moustache took the flowers, which attaches, hanging below his nose.
"This is Lady John Thomas Case" Jane”, he said. "And let Constance in Oliver streets. Maybe.”

… …

What liars poets and everybody! Did you want to hear? When you want someone who was extremely hard, sensuality, using pretty awful. To find a man who had the courage to do so without shame or sin or final confusion! If he had followed and made a shame of shame, a terrible thing! Most men have too much bad as a sheep, some shameful, Clifford, as the Michaelis too! Both sensually a little dog and insulting. The highest pleasure in mind! And what is this woman? What makes a man really! It's just confusing and may, in his mind. It takes sensuality even to purify the mind and quicken. Clean burning sexual immorality, Messi-ness.
My God, he is a man short! They are all dogs that are running and sniffing and copulate. I met a man who was not afraid and not ashamed! She looked at him now, and then slept like a wild animal is asleep, away, away into the distance. It's in the bottom, not to stay away from him.

… …

There he stood, tall and thin, and so different in a uniform thin dark cloth. He had a natural distinction, but the pattern in the bank. But when he saw that it could go anywhere. Indigenous culture was that it was actually much better than the model of class-cutting.
"Ah, there you are, how you look!"
"Yeah, but you do not."
He looked in his face anxiously. He was thin and showed cheekbones. But his eyes smiled, and felt at home with him. She was the tension suddenly dropped to keep their appearances. Something came out of it physically, which made her feel at ease and happy inside, at home. Happy woman now alert instinct, as recorded in one. "I'm happy when there!" Not all the sunshine of Venice had given him in this expansion and heat.
"It was terrible to you?" He asked as she Saturday opposite him at the table. It was too thin, she saw him again. His hand was how it felt, with animals free forgotenness curious to sleep. She wanted to get her and kissing her. But she had courage.
"People are always terrible", he said.
“And you lie a lot?”
Mentality, that I will always remember. And I knew it would be foolish to mind.
"Do you want a dog with a tin can tied to its tail? Clifford said he felt that way."
He looked at her. He has been cruel to her at the moment, because his pride had suffered bitterly.
"I guess not", he said.
He never knew his burning concern that bad insult.
It was a long pause.
"Did you miss me?" he asked.
“I was glad they were there."
Again, it was delayed.
But people will believe in you and me?" he asked me.
“No! I do not believe it for a while."
"It's Clifford?”
I should not say. He put it away without thinking. But of course, makes me want to see the rest of me.
"I have a son."
Expression is dead for all your face, your whole body. He looked at her with dark eyes that seem to not understand: as a dark-fired the spirit of looking at it.
"Say you're happy!" he asked, groping for his hand. Then he saw a source of joy in it. But it was broken by him, he could not understand.
"It's the future", he said.
"Do not you glad?" Continued.
"I have a terrible suspicion the future."
"But you do not have any responsibility. Would they like Clifford would be happy."
She saw him pale, and recoil from it. He did not answer.
"I have to go back to Clifford and put a baronet in Wragby?" he asked me.
He looked pale and very remote. Ugly big smile flitted across his face.
"She would not say who the father was?"
“Oh”, he said, "it would be necessary, anyway, if you wanted."
He thought for a moment.
"Yeah!" He told himself at last. “I guess so."
There was silence. A large gap between them.
"But you do not want me to go back to Clifford, do you?" he asked.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"I want to live with you," she said simply.
I spit on his own, running a small flame on his stomach and heard her speak, and dropped his head. He looked at her again, her eyes spirit.
"If it goes for you", he said. "I have nothing."
"She now has a male majority. C'mon, you know”, he said.
"In a way, I know."

… …