I often wonder why we can’t get over this. These days, Shakespeare’s plays are, but we’re still left with the same damn language. In fact, at least Miguel (if only he had been born 420 years later in California, I’m sure we would have been on a first name basis) is translated. The Need for Translators Perhaps I am being too hard on Cervantes had he been born in, say, England, he would have written in that transitional early modern English-which really means, “not modern English”. Not surprisingly, I am also unable to speak it. This is a problem, for just as you know the worthiness of my intent, you surely know that I am fluent in the Spanish language, in the sense that I can neither read nor write it. Memory stick ind and mstk pro industrial multimeter. The problem is not me, you see, but Miguel de Cervantes, and the fact that he was born in Spain and thus spoke Spanish. Unfortunately, it will probably suck but I urge you onward nonetheless. Gentle reader: you already know that this article on Don Quixote-the product of my eccentric intellect-is intended to be the greatest article I could possibly write.
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