Ciao, volevo provare a tradurre in inglese un pezzo in prosa non proprio facile. Mi sono fatto aiutare da babelfish, ma non mi fido affatto, nemmeno delle mie correzioni. Qualcuno potrebbe aiutarmi, per favore?

Il pezzo in italiano è:

"Un tuffo nell'iperuranio.

Percorre la via delle stelle ogni notte, svelando timidamente il suo volto stravagante. I suoi occhi e la sua bocca hanno per nome grandi pelaghi, immaginati quando li si pensava colmi d'acqua. Ma acqua non è: è il bazar delle cose dimenticate. Mi tuffo dalla sedia e fluttuo dolcemente sopra il mare candido, che attende solo me per risvegliarsi. Sfioro con le dita la distesa calma e l'orizzonte si fonde con il cielo, in un'unica macchia nivea e abbacinante. Sono già immerso nel regno delle cose perdute, in cerca del mio senno, quando scorgo la superficie incresparsi. I simboli neri emergono dal caos sottostante, costruendo lunghe catene diritte, formando una zattera galleggiante, che pullula di nuovo fermento. Nel suo ecosistema, gli spazi bianchi fra le parole celano i trait d'union fra creature diverse, in simbiosi tra loro. Se mi soffermo a guardare, posso leggere il codice della vita in evoluzione frenetica.

Il momento topico è accompagnato dai venti, spirano irregolari, alzano la spuma sui frangenti ancora incerti. Assisto partecipe alla nascita di un'isola adagiata tra i flutti, che la spingono, la sbattono, a volerla dissipare. Ma è tardi per soccombere, essa resiste, cresce ormai indipendente e ospita una culla, un abbraccio protettivo, un brodo primordiale, sempre più attivo, incontenibile. Fuori e dentro si manifestano le lotte per la sopravvivenza. I primi tentativi di indipendenza risalgono dalle vene, in cui pulsa la nuova discendenza e si aggrappano con forza all'arca, che li porta a seconda dei capricci del fato. Alcuni si perdono e cadono nell'abisso che di sotto li attende, altri imparano a conoscere l'ambiente e vi si adattano. E forte dell'esperienza la progenie sfida l'ignoto, che la circonda in ogni direzione. Un arboscello si leva da terra e s'innalza fiero, a sfidare il cielo. I suoi rami si estendono e si offrono sfacciati al vento ostile, che li sferza crudemente. I suoi rami si impongono, quasi a volerlo afferrare, fermare, sconfiggere. Anzi, no, le foglie lo studiano, l'ascoltano lamentarsi dell'ostacolo interposto e, in fine, lo lasciano andare, gli regalano una nuova strada. La chioma dell'albero è adesso una vela, per condurre la zattera a piacimento. E più l'aria si scuote e il vento soffia e più favorisce la nuova foresta che cresce.

Rapito dall'evoluzione dell'opera, nel mio volo incosciente, mi lascio avvicinare dalle fronde e ne rimango invischiato. E mi agito, mi sforzo di tornare libero, con l'unico risultato che mi ritrovo stanco, svuotato e privo di idee. E così rimiro ancora una volta il paesaggio che dal nulla è venuto... ma no, non dal nulla, dall'iperuranio! Dal luogo nel quale mi son infilato da solo, per ritrovare una logica nel mio componimento. E a stento ricordo cos'è avvenuto prima, affascinato dalla varietà che andava aumentando e prosperando. E giunto, in fine, a comprenderne la trama, scendo a patti con l'intreccio del mio bosco. Così maturato e autonomo lo lascio andare, a visitare altri mari a piacimento. E io torno libero a fissare il cielo e a cominciar un nuovo componimento.
"


E in Inglese l'ho tradotto così:

"It covers the way of stars every night, revealing timidly its outlandish face. Its eyes and its mouth have for name large lakes, imagined when it was believed them full of water. But water is not: it is the bazaar of the forgotten things. I dive from the chair and I fluctuate sweetly over the candid sea, that attends only me for awakening. I graze with the fingers the calm surface and the horizon is melted with the sky, in only one white blinding spot. I am already dipped in the reign of the lost things, to find my mind, when I notice the surface wrinkling itself. The black glimps emerge from the below chaos, constructing long straight chains, forming a floating raft, that is full of new ferment. In its ecosystem, the white spaces between the words hide the trait d'union between various creatures, simbiontic with each other. If I stop myself to watch, I can read the code of the life in phrenetic evolution.
The topical moment is accompanied from the winds, blowing irregular, raises the foam on the still uncertain surfs. I assist kidnapped to the birth of a island carefullied lay down between the waves, that push it, hit it, they want to dissipate it. But it is late in order to die, it resists, it grows by now independent and it accommodates a crib, a protecting embrace, a primordial water, more and more active, uncontrollable. Outside and within the fights for the survival are manifested. The first attempts of independence go back from the veins, in which the new descendancys pulses and they grab hold of with force to the arca, that carry them according to the whims of the fate. Some forgive themself and fall in the abyss that attends under them, others learn to know the atmosphere and adapt themself. And with the strong experience the off-spring challenges the unknown, that encircles it in every direction. A sapling lever from earth and it raises fierce, to defy the sky. Its branches are extended and they are offered brazen to the hostile wind, that hit them hardly. Its branches are prevailed, nearly to want to seize it, to stop, to defeat. Indeed, not, the leaves study it, they listen to complain itself for the interposed obstacle and, finally, thay leave it to go, giving it a new road. The tree is now a sail, in order to lead the raft where it wants. And more the air is shaken and the wind blows and more it favors the new forest that grows.
Kidnapped from the evolution of the work, in my incosciente flight, I let to approach from the rebellions and I remain some engulfed. And I churn myself, I try all my efforts to return free, with the only result that I am tired, emptied and lacking in ideas. And thus I look once again the landscape that from the nothing has come… but not, not from the nothing, from the hiperurany! From the place in which I threaded to myself, in order to find again a logic in my story. And with difficulty I remember what it has happened before, fascinated from the variety that it went increasing and prospering. And joint, in end, to comprise of the weft, I come down to pacts with the interlacing of my forest. Thus matured and independent I let it go, to visit other seas. And I return free to llok the sky and to begin a new story.
"

Il mio inglese non può aiutarti

Aiutati che the sky help you.

HEEEELLLPPPPP!

Miriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam help Dixit

Ho idea che con l'inglese qui caschi male ehehe
Prova nel Nucleo.

Se non avessi una lista di cose da fare lunga un chilometro ti aiuterei volentieri.

ok

Ti faccio un passaggio di correzione al volo.
---

It runs the way of the stars every night, timidly disclosing its extravagant face. Its eyes its mouth have large seas for names, imagined when they were believed full of water. But water it is not: it is the bazaar of forgotten things. I dive from the chair and I sweetly hover above the candid sea, that is only awaiting for me to wake. I brush with my fingers the calm surface and the horizon merges with the sky in a single snow-white, blinding spot. I am already deep in the realm of lost things, looking for my sanity, when I notice the surface wrinkling. The black symbols rise from the chaos below, building long straight chains, forming a floating raft, that is full of new ferment. In its ecosystem, white spaces between words hide the links between different creatures, in mutual symbiosis. If I stop and watch, I can read the code of life in frantic evolution.
The highest moment is accompanied by the winds, blowing irregularly, which raise the foam on the still uncertain surfs. Ravished, I behold the birth of an island laid between the waves, that push it, slam it, wanting to dissipate it. But it is too late to surrender, it resists, it grows independently by now, and hosts a crib, a protecting embrace, a primordial broth, more and more active, uncontrollable. Fights for survival burst outside and within. The first attempts to independence go back up the veins, in which the new progeny pulses, and strongly cling to the ark, that carries them according to the whims of fate. Some lose themselves and fall in the abyss waiting below, others learn to know the environment and adapt to it. Strong with the experience, the offspring challenges the unknown surrounding it in every direction. A sapling raises from the ground fiercely rises, challenging the sky. Its branches extend brazenly offer themselves to the hostile wind, lashing them crudely. Its branches prevail, almost wanting to seize it, stop it, defeat it. Then again, no, the leaves examine it, listen to it complaining for the obstacle and, finally, let it go, gifting it with a new path. The treetop is now a sail to lead the raft at will. And the more the air shakes and the wind blows, the more it favors the new forest that grows.
Ravished by the evolution of the work, in my unconscious flight I let boughs come near me and I am engulfed. And I churn, I struggle to set free, with the only result of finding myself tired, emptied and lacking of ideas. So I look once again at the landscape come from nothing… but no, not from nothing, from hyperuranium! From the place in sneaked in myself, to find again a logic in my composition. And I hardly remember what happened before, fascinated by the variety that was growing and flourishing. And came, in end, to an understanding of its plot, I come to an agreement with the braid of my forest. Thus matured and independent I let it go, to visit other seas. And I am again free, looking at the sky and starting a new story.

grazie