Sedulia's Translations

New York City sends homeless family to Granville, Normandy

The "Normandy Invasion": New York exports its homeless to Normandy

To save taxpayers' money, the mayor "offers" one-way trips to the homeless anywhere in the world.

Michael Bloomberg, mayor of New York City (once a Democrat, then elected as a Republican, he turned in his Republican party card two years ago), has found the miracle solution to resolve the problem of poverty in his town: offer the homeless a no-return ticket to a destination wherever they want in the world... including to France. And in fact to Granville, a little port in Normandy. Whose mayor can't get over it.

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In two years, 550 families have benefited from this "favorable treatment," according to the New York Times. Destinations: five continents and 24 different countries. The only condition for eligibility is that the candidate must have someone close who accepts taking him or her in.

And that is how a family of five Americans (two parents and their three children) is going to find itself in Granville, where a relative of the mother lives. Cost of the trip: $6332 including five airplane tickets and the train as far as Granville.

A good deal for New York City finances. The town is in fact legally obligated to take responsibility for lodging its homeless, through the funding of the program of help and refuge for the homeless, at a cost of $36,000 per family per year.

The goal is therefore to save money "in the interest of the taxpayer," according to the words of the mayor, but for a good cause: elsewhere, the grass is much greener, and it would be really stupid not to seize the chance to start over, Michael Bloomberg explains, in substance.

As for his counterpart in Granville, he finds this "absolutely a scandal."

"What cynicism! When I heard about this, I immediately made the comparison with the charters that France arranges to send immigrant workers from Mali or Senegal back to their homes.... It's the mercantilization of misery!"

The people of Granville themselves are "outraged," says the mayor. "The locals feel very concerned. They say to each other, 'It's the first time, but it could happen again.' You know, Granville is a little town open to the sea and to the world, we will welcome this family, and we are ready to help them. It must be very painful for them."

The five new emigrants certainly could have chosen a worse place. But how will other homeless people integrate? Will the countries chosen have a say in the matter? The assistant director of Eric Besson's office assure us that he knows nothing about it. "For us, this does not exist. We have no knowledge of this business. We have not been contacted by the consulate nor by the border police. I am asking questions. We are going to carry out a thorough inquiry."

On the side of the border police, "no one has heard" of this. As for the prefecture of La Manche (Normandy), it has received no request for residency papers.

       --Marina Bellot, Journalist. August 7, 2009 at Rue89.com, a French site where professional journalists blog




07 August 2009 in American, Current Affairs, French, Politics, government | Permalink | Comments (0)

Georg Herwegh: Freedom comes like a thief in the night

Leopold_rivers_goose_girl_1842_2

Parable

Allow me to tell you all
a silly story:
it's just come to mind,
patience is German,
that's what it's about.

There was a good, good woman,
who always did her duty precisely,
and however good she was,
she never thought it was much.

The woman had a lively rooster,Cock_crow_in_sussex
that crowed at her every morning,
and following his rooster-nature
was the best alarm clock she had.

As soon as the day announced itself,
the woman woke her lazy maid,
which made our girl so grumpy
that she once decided grimly

to cut off his noise
and, I'll say it quickly, to kill him.
No sooner thought than done,
the gods received a rooster.

But what did the maid get for it?
While before she was woken with the sun,
she was now woken at midnight,
after she killed the rooster.

Ach! said the maid, who felt very foolish,
if only I could hear the rooster crow!
His crowing sounded as beautiful
as a nightingale singing.

"And now you're joking? Please!"
You know the woman as well as I do;
she is the loveliest far and wide,
to look at her is sheer bliss.

You also know the neighbor's rooster,
that has bothered you so much;
and when you ask me what comes next:
"You, German people, are the maid!"

So when you kill the rooster, you slaves,
don't think you'll get to sleep any longer,
first the woman woke you at the rooster's cry,
now slumber is past forever.

Freedom comes like a thief in the night
and calls to you, "Wake up! Wake up!"

 --Georg Herwegh (1817-1875)

Parabel

Erlaubt mir, daß ich 'mal berichte
Euch eine alberne Geschichte:
Sie kommt mir eben in den Sinn,
Geduld ist deutsch, drum nehmt sie hin.

War eine brave, brave Frau,
Die nahm's im Dienste wohl genau,
Und macht', so brav sie auch gewesen,
Doch niemals vieles Federlesen.

Die Frau hatt' einen muntern Hahn,
Der kräht' ihr stets den Morgen an,
Und war nach seiner Hahn-Natur
Für sie die allerbeste Uhr.

Sobald den Tag er angesagt,
Da weckt' die Frau die faule Magd,
Was unsre Magd gar schwer verdroß,
Daß sie im Grimme einst beschloß,

Dem Vogel zu stutzen seine Schwingen
Und, meld' ich's kurz, ihn umzubringen.
Es war gedacht, es war getan,
Die Götter bekamen einen Hahn.

Was aber hat die Magd gewonnen?
Die sonst geweckt ward mit der Sonnen,
Ward nun geweckt um Mitternacht,
Nachdem den Hahn sie umgebracht.

Ach! sprach die Magd, die schwer Betörte,
Wenn ich den Hahn doch krähen hörte!
Sein Krähen hat so schön geklungen,
Als hätt' eine Nachtigall gesungen.

"Und nun der Witz? wir bitten dich!"
Ihr kennt die Frau so gut wie ich;
Sie ist die schönste weit und breit,
Ihr Anblick die volle Seligkeit.

Ihr kennt wohl auch des Nachbars Hahn,
Dem ihr soviel zuleid getan;
Und wenn ihr mich nach dem Dritten fragt:
"Du, deutsches Volk, du bist die Magd!"

Doch wenn ihr den Hahn auch mordet, ihr Sklaven,
So denkt darum nicht länger zu schlafen,
Erst weckt' euch die Frau nach dem Hahnenschrei,
Nun ist's mit dem Schlummer auf ewig vorbei.

Die Freiheit kommt wie ein Dieb in der Nacht
Und ruft euch zu: "Erwacht! erwacht!"

07 December 2007 in Current Affairs, German, Politics, government | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ingeborg Bachmann: The war will not be explained any more

Military_1

The war will not be explained any more,
just carried on. The unheard-of
has become normal. The hero
stays far from the fighting. The weakling
is moved to the front line.
The uniform of the day is patience,
the medal is the shabby star
of hope over the heart.

It will be awarded
when nothing more happens,
when the thunder of guns falls dumb,
when the enemy becomes invisible
and the shadows of endless arms build-ups
cover the sky.

It will be awarded
for fleeing from flags,
for bravery facing the ally,
for the betrayal of worthless secrets
and the ignoring
of every command.

   --Ingeborg Bachmann (1926-1973), in Die gestundete Zeit [Deferred Time], 1953

Alle Tage

Der Krieg wird nicht mehr erklärt,
sondern fortgesetzt. Das Unerhörte
ist alltäglich geworden. Der Held
bleibt den Kämpfen fern. Der Schwache
ist in die Feuerzonen gerückt.
Die Uniform des Tages ist die Geduld,
die Auszeichnung der armselige Stern
der Hoffnung über dem Herzen.

Er wird verliehen,
wenn nichts mehr geschieht,
wenn das Trommelfeuer verstummt,
wenn der Feind unsichtbar geworden ist
und der Schatten ewiger Rüstung
den Himmel bedeckt.

Er wird verliehen
für die Flucht von den Fahnen,
für die Tapferkeit vor dem Freund,
für den Verrat unwürdiger Geheimnisse
und die Nichtachtung
jeglichen Befehls.

16 February 2007 in Current Affairs, German, War, conflict, problems | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thoughts are free

Thoughts are free;
who can guess them?
They fly by
like shadows at night.
No one can know them,
no hunter can shoot them.
The fact remains:
thoughts are free.

I think what I like,
and what makes me happy,
but all in silence,
and as it comes.
No one can shut out
my wishes and wants.
The fact remains:
thoughts are free.

And if they lock me up
in a gloomy dungeon,
that is just
useless and vain;
for my thoughts
tear the walls
and the barriers down:
thoughts are free.

So I will forever
give up worries
and will never again
care about troubles.
After all in your heart you can
always laugh and mock
and think as you do:
Thoughts are free.

I love wine
and my girl above all.
Those are the things
I like the best.
I am not alone
with my glass of wine
and my girl with me.
Thoughts are free!


This famous German folksong, which goes back to the Middle Ages, was forbidden under the Nazis for understandable reasons. You can hear it here.


Die Gedanken sind frei;
wer kann sie erraten?
Sie fliehen vorbei
wie nächtliche Schatten.
Kein Mensch kann sie wissen,
kein Jäger erschiessen.
Es bleibet dabei:
die Gedanken sind frei.

Ich denke was ich will,
und was mich beglücket,
doch alles in der Still,
und wie es sich schicket.
Mein Wunsch und Begehren
kann niemand verwehren.
Es bleibet dabei:
die Gedanken sind frei.


Und sperrt man mich ein
in finsteren Kerker,
das alles sind rein
vergebliche Werke;
denn meine Gedanken
zerreissen die Schranken
und Mauern entzwei:
die Gedanken sind frei.

Drum will ich auf immer
den Sorgen entsagen    
und will mich auch nimmer
mit Grillen mehr plagen.
Man kann ja im Herzen
stets lachen und scherzen
und denken dabei:
die Gedanken sind frei.

Ich liebe den Wein,
mein Mädchen vor allen.
Sie tun mir allein
am besten befallen.
Ich bin nicht allein
bei meinem Glas Weine,
mein Mädchen dabei.
Die Gedanken sind frei!

03 May 2005 in Current Affairs, German, Life, Wisdom | Permalink | Comments (1)

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