The story has become marketing legend: In the 1970s, American automaker Chevrolet proudly marketed the Nova across Latin America, only to have sales lag because “No va” means “it doesn’t go” in Spanish.
The tale, however good, is largely a myth. The Nova actually did sell briskly in Mexico and Venezuela, even running ahead of sales projections in certain markets. But the legend persists because it feels true: words don’t always go wholesale. Sometimes they are reborn, sometimes they get lost, and other times, they are just in the wrong places.
Words That Won’t Be Moved
While expression can be either literal or figurative (like “lost in translation”), almost all languages have some words that are too local for global adoption. From this perspective, the human experience might be more culturally specific.
Consider the German word Schadenfreude. The word means a spark of pleasure when watching someone else suffering. English can describe the feeling, but German crystallizes it into a single, cutting word. Or the Portuguese saudade, a longing so profound it encompasses yearning not just for someone absent, but for a time, a feeling, even a version of yourself that may never return.
The Danish concept of treasure hygge: cosy warmth. Something more than “comfort” or “feel good” when surrounded by beloved family and friends. And, naturally, Inuit speakers possess iktsuarpok: that infuriating waiting around for someone to arrive, which gets you into the habit of checking compulsively. And this is a feeling everyone is familiar with but possibly doesn’t have a word for.
Wabi-sabi, the old philosophy and beauty that finds loveliness in imperfection: cracks, blemishes, decay… accepting and authentic. Tagalog gifts us with gigil: that overwhelming urge to squeeze or pinch something irresistibly adorable, like a kitten’s little paw.
Interestingly, even as each word can represent a linguistic void, we all understand the emotions behind it. Perhaps, the human experience can be more alike than different, if we are willing to understand one another.
When Meaning Is Lost in Transit
Idioms are another interesting feature that pose their own delightful challenges. Although perfectly understandable within the context of culture, they can seem ludicrous when taken literally.
The Francophones describe love at first sight as “struck by lightning” (coup de foudre). A Japanese speaker overwhelmed with work says they would “borrow a cat’s paw” (猫の手も借りたい)– literally take help from anybody. German speakers express “I don’t care” by saying “it’s sausage to me” (”Das ist mir Wurst”)
These idiomatic expressions add humor, history, and shared cultural memory. English idioms confuse non-speakers as well: to “break a leg,” to “spill the beans,” or to call something easy “a piece of cake.” None of them is natural unless explained and translated, but the epiphany fills in the gaps between imagination and enjoyment.
The Mythology of Translation Disasters
A few translation horror stories have become the stuff of legend in the marketing world. They’re told and retold in business schools, marketing conferences, and boardrooms around the globe. But some of them are more a part of folklore than a part of recorded history.
Take the classic Pepsi myth. The firm’s “Come Alive with Pepsi” advertising slogan, according to the common legend, was allegedly mangled in China to say “Pepsi brings your ancestors back from the dead.” The myth appears in hundreds of marketing anecdotes and case studies, but it remains unverified. Similarly, KFC’s “Finger Lickin’ Good” allegedly became “Eat Your Fingers Off” in Chinese markets, which is basically a rumor.
And then there’s the Mercedes-Benz tale: The luxury automobile brand supposedly rolled into China with the name “Bensi,” which means “rush to die.” Truth is, Mercedes-Benz’s real Chinese name, “Ben Chi” (奔驰), is actually “run fast”. This is probably a much more appropriate title for a luxury car brand.
The reality of the actual Chinese names of these brands has meticulous localization strategies. Pepsi’s official Chinese name, if literally translated back into English, is “hundreds of things to be happy about, and KFC uses a phonetic translation leaning towards “Kentucky” rather than the whole brand name, preserving the sound recognition while adhering to Chinese characters.
Just like the Chevrolet myth, they spread because they feel true. These stories, or folklore, capture real issues in global communication and the real challenges of businesses dealing with linguistic and cultural barriers.
When Hollywood Meets the World: Movie Title Translations
Movie titles give another glimpse of how different cultures handle translation, from literal word-for-word to complete re-creation. At times, the result may be as intriguing as the movie itself.
“Home Alone” is a classic example. In France, it became “Maman j’ai raté l’avion” (”Mom, I Missed the Plane”), but Latin American markets chose to call it “Mi Pobre Angelito” (”My Poor Little Angel”).
“Frozen” is another case study: in France, it was “La Reine des Neiges” (”The Queen of Snow”), but Chinese-speaking markets chose something more contextual, “冰雪奇緣” (”Magical Serendipity of Ice and Snow”)
“The Shawshank Redemption” becomes “les Evades” (The Escaped) in Francophone areas, and “刺激1995” (Stimulation 1995) in Taiwan.
“Die Hard” becomes “La Jungla de Cristal” (The Crystal Jungle) in Spain, and “Duro de Matar” (Hard to Kill) in most of Latin America, but “終極警探“ (”The Ultimate Cop”) in Taiwan.
Film distributors are continuously faced with the dilemma of translating correctly versus promoting successfully, sometimes with the most pleasant surprise of unintended results. The localization methodology is not so much the language barrier as the cultural customs and traditions.
When Translation Really Does Go Wrong
Of course, genuine translation disasters do happen, but they are often more nuanced than the mythical catastrophes suggest. True translation errors are most often founded on more sophisticated misapprehensions of context, local culture, or linguistic tact that cannot be accounted for by one sensational mistranslation.
Literary translations pose more nuanced problems. Consider translation from the Bible, say, in English, Eve is created from Adam’s “rib.” But tsela in Hebrew is both rib or side. According to some scholars, Eve wasn’t just a chunk of Adam but his whole other half. The use of one word recontextualizes centuries of understanding.
Dante’s Divine Comedy presents translators with trasumanar, a new, one-time word, invented by Dante to mean “to transhumanize,” to transgress human limits. If it remains foreign and extraneous, or is Englished into something shiny? Either option imperils either meaning or fidelity.
Translation, perhaps, is ever a trade-off between precision and poetry, fidelity and music.
The Deeper Questions
Perhaps, rather than translation disasters, the real question is whether the meaning can ever fully travel across languages.
From Wittgenstein to Derrida, philosophers believe that language does more than just describe the world around us; it shapes how we perceive it. Words carry the worldviews of those who use them, making the “perfect” translation not just difficult but even impossible.
Thinking about how Russian speakers distinguish light blue (goluboy) and dark blue (siniy) as separate categories, rather than using just one word “blue”. Studies show they may identify blue tones more quickly than English speakers, whose single word “blue” blurs the distinction.
For bilinguals, words often carry different emotional weights in each language. Research found that people react more intensely to emotional phrases in their native tongue than in a second language. “I love you” may not feel as emotional as te amo or je t’aime. The sounds carry memories of childhood, intimacy, and cultural rhythm.
Editor’s Note
“Translator, traitor”–goes the Italian proverb: traduttore, traditore. Every act of translation involves loss. When we encounter these linguistic mysteries, we’re reminded of the vast complexity of human expression. Translation is simply proof that the world holds depth that no single language can describe.
Yet translation is what makes human communication possible across the vast diversity of languages and cultures, and shows us that cross-cultural human emotions are more alike than different.
Perhaps the goal should not be a perfect translation but a deeper appreciation, for both what can be shared across languages and what remains unique to each culture’s way of seeing.
