View Full Version : Imitations and Reflections
It's sometimes supposed that the practice of "free" poetic translation, in which a poem in one language becomes a new one in another, is a modern, recent phenomenon. It's often associated in particular with the American poet Robert Lowell, who in his "Imitations" of European poets often changed the originals considerably, though without altering their underlying sense. Yet the practice also existed earlier, for example in the work of the late 19th century Russian symbolist poets. Innokenty Annensky (1855-1909) translated several poems of Baudelaire in a way that changes them in an unexpected light - such, for example, is his version of 'Le Revenant', which ends with a striking image that Baudelaire didn't include in the sonnet (though perhaps in line 11 he does suggest cold steel) :
Ядом взора золотого
Отравлю я сон алькова,
Над тобой немую тьму
Я крылами разойму.
Черным косам в час свиданья —
Холод лунного лобзанья,
Руки нежные твои —
В кольца цепкие змеи.
А заря зазеленеет,
Ложе ласк обледенеет,
Где твой мертвый гость лежал,
И, еще полна любовью,
Прислоненный к изголовью
Ты увидишь там — кинжал.
Comme les anges ŕ l’œil fauve,
Je reviendrai dans ton alcôve
Et vers toi glisserai sans bruit
Avec les ombres de la nuit ;
Et je te donnerai, ma brune,
Des baisers froids comme la lune
Et des caresses de serpent
Autour d’une fosse rampant.
Quand viendra le matin livide,
Tu trouveras ma place vide,
Oů jusqu’au soir il fera froid.
Comme d’autres par la tendresse,
Sur ta vie et sur ta jeunesse,
Moi, je veux régner par l’effroi.
Annensky's versions of Verlaine, Mallarmé, Leconte de Lisle and other poets - there's a list here (http://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9A%D0%B0%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%B3%D0%BE%D1%80%D0%B8%D 1%8F:%D0%9F%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B5%D0%B2%D0%BE%D0%B4%D1 %8B,_%D0%B2%D1%8B%D0%BF%D0%BE%D0%BB%D0%BD%D0%B5%D0 %BD%D0%BD%D1%8B%D0%B5_%D0%98%D0%BD%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0% BA%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%82%D0%B8%D0%B5%D0%BC_%D0%A4%D1%9 1%D0%B4%D0%BE%D1%80%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B8%D1%87%D0%B5% D0%BC_%D0%90%D0%BD%D0%BD%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D 0%B8%D0%BC) - show similar features.
As I've said in another thread, also Montale translated quite freely some Shekespearean sonnets. Here's an example:
Sonet XLVIII
How careful was I when I took my way
each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
that to my use it might unusčd stay
from hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
most worthy comfort, now my grestest grief,
thou best of dearest and mine only care,
art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not locked up in any chest,
save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
within the gentle closure of my breast,
from whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
and even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear,
for truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
Con che animo, partendo, li ho rinchiusi,
i miei ninnoli, e con che serrature,
per trovarli, inusati, al mio solo uso,
da mani d'altri, cupide, al sicuro.
Ma tu che rendi men che nulla questi
gioielli se ti mostri, tu mio primo
conforto e ora mio cruccio, preda resti
d'ogni furfante che ti s'avvicina.
Non ti ho messo in alcuno scrigno, fuori
di quello in cui non sei, ben ch'io senta
qui pure: nell'asilo del mio cuore
dove tu giungi e parti a tuo talento.
Per essermi rubato, poi: se avviene
ch'č ladra anche virtů con un tal bene.
Of course the basic meaning of the poem is mantained, but as it would be really hard to render all the nuances of late 16th century English and Shakespeare's nuances, Montale chooses to change a lot, making it a poem of his own: it could be analysed as one of Montale's poems, with no Shakespeare whatsoever in the background.
Montale aside, in Latin literature there was a peculiar kind of translation, called "artistic translation": poets such as Gaius Valerius Catullus translated Greek poems, changelling their art: they wanted to recover this works in order to surpass them. So they couldn't care less of fidelity to the original text, they took any liberty they wanted. So I think we could call this a free translation. For instance, Catullus translated a poem by Greek (female!) poet Sappho.
Yes, the tradition of free translation is certainly a long-established one, with a distinguished pedigree - and it's only relatively recently that the demand for strict fidelity has been introduced into the field of poetry translation, mainly by the rise of academic interests, one guesses.
Annensky is also interesting as a literary critic - in his "Books of Reflections", he approaches literary texts not as objective, given entities, but rather as springboards for personal, subjective meditations, rather on the lines of Proust's experiments in the genre.
DWM, as you are yourself a translator of Russian poetry, and the Russian of others here (apart from Learna and the Helsinki resident Altai) is rather limited, including my own, maybe you could furnish your own translation of that Baudelaire poem, and indeed of the Annensky Russian version, so that we might discover what is striking about Annensky's version towards the end. Otherwise you may be casting pearls before swine.
Eric, I don't have time to do that, alas, but anyone who runs the two texts (French and Russian) through an online translator such as Google Translate (http://translate.google.com/#auto|en|) can see the difference between them pretty clearly, I think. Especially the last line of Annensky's version, with its "dagger" - absent from Baudelaire's original.
Go on - be your own translator! :)
DWM says:
Eric, I don't have time to do that, alas, but anyone who runs the two texts (French and Russian) through an online translator such as Google Translate (http://translate.google.com/#auto|en|) can see the difference between them pretty clearly, I think.
A possible solution, but some of us may not have the time to read approximate machine translations in order to compare a French poem with its Russian translation. I personally don't have much faith in machine translation when it comes to poetry. It has validity in an emergency, but you are surely not suggesting that we can understand the subtleties of Baudelaire versus Annensky by resorting to a robot?
Who is your readership for this exercise in French-Russian translation? There may be no one at all on the WLF who is steeped enough in the two poets to appreciate or otherwise the Annensky translation.
I brought up the example of Baudelaire and Annensky - with one poem in particular in view - to illustrate the argument that the practice of free, subjective poetic translation has a long and noble tradition.
Since I've read posts in other threads in this forum that argue against the practice, this seems a reasonable thing to do, in order to adjust the balance and give a little historical perspective. I'm glad that we had the Italian example, but there's no reason why Russian should be excluded from the range of languages included here.
The "dagger" anomaly in the Annensky version of the sonnet is perfectly visible in the machine translation.
With regard to the readership for such a post - I know of at least half a dozen people with a knowledge of Russian who visit this site now and then, though they've never registered as members. WLF's readership is quite a lot larger than the total of registered members, as can be verified from checking the number of "guests" in relation to "members".
I think it's also worth noting that Robert Lowell included a free translation of Annensky's poem Черная весна (Black Spring) in Imitations where, for example, the stanza
И только изморозь, мутна,
На тление лилась.
Да тупо черная весна
Глядела в студень глаз -
becomes
Now the dumb, black springtime
must look into the chilly eye . . . from under the mould
on the roof-shingles, the liquid oatmeal
of the roads, the green stubble of life
Quite a step from the original, yet thoroughly in Annensky's style, and telescoping the first two lines of the next stanza:
С облезлых крыш, из бурых ям,
С позеленелых лиц...
Reply to DWM's post #7:
In a culture where the literal translations of poets are published, with vulnerable honesty, next to the poems in the original language, I admire the efforts. One David McDuff did so back in 1973, when he risked both praise and censure by publishing a fairly substantial volume of parallel text poems by Osip Mandelstam - next to the original Russian. So immediate comparison was possible. But, of course, only by that small number of poetically literate people that wanted to read Mandelstam.
The translator often has to make his mind up whether to do the best English version, or stick closely to the original. This is obviously a dilemma. A close & wooden translation may help scholars of Russian understand the poems in their Russian versions, and a smooth, mellifluous one may help English readers get a feel for the poet. But surely there is a happy medium.
My ideal is that happy medium.
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I think "guests" on such websites as this one are a little sneaky. They want to look on, assess and applaud, or denigrate and deride, from the shadows, but haven't the guts to actually say that a translation is bad or good, and analyse the proportion. They shun opinions. They want to view the gladiators from a safe seat on the tier, without risking getting a verbal gladius in the gut.
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I am becoming a Luddite. Both Kindle and machine translation are becoming a fetish rather than a tool.
The point is, I think, that in some cases the "happy medium" may not really be applicable - a poet may choose to translate a poem in a way that scholars and academics would find wholly unacceptable, and may even appropriate the original work to an extent that some would consider stealing. Poets like Annensky and Lowell don't consider literal fidelity to be an important element in the translation process, which for them is above all a subjective and creative one.
Parallel texts don't help a reader (the majority) who has little or no knowledge of the source language, which is probably why most publishers don't include them in their books. Fashions change, of course, and while some decades ago imitations ŕ la Lowell were still in vogue, by now the pendulum has no doubt swung too much the other way - with, as you yourself point out, excessively literal and often lifeless translations serving the interests of what is mostly a university-based literature department industry.
You mention Mandelstam: back in the 1960s and 70s the accepted work format for poetry translation was the team of poet and academic. My own Mandelstam translations were praised by Joseph Brodsky partly because they weren't the result of that kind of collaboration, but were simply my own personal response to Mandelstam's texts. Now, some forty years later, with rather more experience, I'd probably go about trying to translate his poetry in a different way - but whether the results would necessarily be an improvement, I don't know.
I wrote my doctoral dissertation on Annensky (earned my Ph.D. in 1971), so I can say that I have the academic background as well - but in translating Mandelstam, with the ambition of youth and a volume of my own poetry behind me, I chose the "creative" method of bringing him into English, rather than the academic one. Richard Burns did something similar, but I produced more translations.
The translation of poetry is an almost impossible task, and it's only really achieved in the kind of synthesis that a poet like Annensky achieved with the work of Baudelaire.
Re the adversarial nature of web forums: I'm not keen on that aspect of them myself, so I sympathize with those who prefer to take a back seat and watch from the sidelines. Anyway, there needn't be any conflict here - if personalities are kept out of the discussions, there's no reason why the atmosphere should not be peaceful and harmonious, as it ought to be in a forum devoted to creative art and literature.
Re the "machine tools" - they really are just tools, and I find that if one accepts them cool-headedly for what they are, without trying to see them either as devoted friends or sworn enemies, they can be very useful. Also, they are constantly developing, and no one really knows what they may be capable of in a few years' time.
Thank-you, DWM, for your thorough appraisal. We are beginning to communicate again after a long break.
People are free to translate poetry any way they choose. The control freaks have not yet smothered a variety of methods.
Parallel texts are tremendously important if you are to bridge the gap between the majority and the small band or elite of experts. Someone such as myself, who has shall we say lower intermediate Russian, but can nevertheless read the alphabet and make some stab at the pronunciation, given the often strictly rhythmic nature of Russian poetry, finds parallel text publications excellent. I know French much better than Russian, but still find the Penguin is my way in to French poetry, rather than laboriously looking up every word to find the hidden idioms and puns.
I feel that in an intellectual climate such as the one that holds sway in the English-language world (mostly Britain and the USA), it is important to get what the poet was saying in the original language across to the reader. The clever stuff can come later. I suspect that there are even poets who fancy a bit of a dabble in translation who do not always know the source language that well. They then embellish their "rendering" of a poem so as to cover up the bits they didn't understand in the first place, but were too proud to ask.
The Mandelstam. Brodsky no doubt appreciated freedom and the fact that one person was doing the translations, without the interference of meddlesome native-speaker of Russian whose ideas would dominate the translator. But I think that a translator must try to honourably get to the core of the original poem, trying to show an English-speaker what, in this instance, Mandelstam was saying. You probably don't want to tackle Mandelstam again, forty years later as you say. But I found the fact that the "Selected Poems" were indeed in parallel text a great help for someone like me who, as I have explained above, can sort-of half-read Russian.
I'm sorry, but I baulk at the idea of "creativity" for the reasons I set out above. As Brits are so starved of the straight poem, I feel that it is a hasty move to start experimenting or embellishing while the average reader has not yet grasped why the straight poems are regarded as works of genius in the source-language country.
All debate is adversarial by its very nature. Sitting on the sidelines exhibits an unwillingness to be exposed to the verbal or cyber-equivalent of shouting, which indeed happens here too. But one should not be afraid of the adolescents and rabble-rousers. I try my best to set out my analytical approach to poetry translation so that even the shouters may listen for a moment. If you roam the threads here, you will find postings where I have tried to expose poetry translation where the images created stray too far from what is said in the original. I feel the translator should start even with a wooden literal rendeing at the start, and only later, when he is sure he has grasped the full meaning, puns, idioms, allusions and all, begin to do clever things with the target language.
Yes, perhaps we are beginning to communicate again - though I will admit I've always had a feeling that the differences between us are due to partial misunderstandings rather than total misapprehension.
Again re parallel texts: although at one time I used to share your view of these, I'm now not so sure that they are useful for bridging the gap between the majority and the "small band of experts". My reasons are as follows:
You state that you have lower intermediate Russian, but that is highly unusual. Most readers of poetry - and I mean some 95 percent of them - have no knowledge of Russian whatsoever, and can't even read the Cyrillic alphabet. I know this from experience, having worked for several years as a poetry magazine and poetry publisher's editor, attending poetry festivals and poetry readings, and talking to readers. For such readers, the Cyrillic half of a book of parallel texts is therefore wasted, and they feel dissatisfied. Many have told me this.
On the other hand, the experience of hearing Russian poetry recited or read aloud is an immensely popular one, and was one of the reasons for Brodsky's success with audiences in the West. This is a different thing from parallel texts altogether, and is the true meeting of audience and poet - even though they can't understand the words, by the inflections and emotional cadences of the author's voice the audience can reach an intuitive, creative understanding that is deeper than a purely semantic one. If the English translation follows, accompanies or precedes such a reading or recital, there's a real chance that the poems will strike home as they would to a Russian audience.
I don't think that Brodsky's welcoming of my Mandelstam translations was linked to being rid of "the interference of a meddlesome native-speaker of Russian" - instead, he appreciated that I had worked independently of a university academic, the normal practice of the time being for a poet-translator who knew no Russian, or little Russian, to be propped up by such a person, who was frequently not a native-speaker at all. One of Brodsky's avowed "missions" was to save Russian literature from academia.
By "creativity" - in spite of the Annensky example, which I guess was offered as an extreme case, or at least an unusual one - I don't mean the adding of material to the original, or the embellishing of the poem's text. I mean the intuitive process by which a translator can delve into the meaning of a poem, recreating the poem in English as though it were his or her own. I use the word "can", because it doesn't often happen, and is easier said than done.
But that said, I'm glad that we are again able to discuss and debate without feeling pressured or misrepresented by the other.
Parallel texts obviously have their limitations. If you can't even read the alphabet or ideograms, they are a non-starter.
But there are big languages in Europe, such as French, Spanish, German, Italian which have some currency, even in quasi-monolingual Britain. Poems from these languages can be successfully published in parallel text.
Obviously, I am unusual in even being able to read the Russian alphabet, let alone understand the words. But for me understanding is a key factor. With music, you either "get" it or not. There is no immediate meaning set out. But poems do have sense and words. (Barring the odd Dadaist thing.)
If you can read the poem with a parallel text translation as the poet is reading it, you may indeed get something more out of it than merely hearing the cadences of something you understand nothing of regarding the meaning. As I suggest, poetry is not only cadences, nor only meaning. The whole blending of meaning and sound is what makes poetry. But Russian poetry does go in for a lot of "moaning and droning", which will impress people even when they understand nothing of it. I think there is more in a Russian poem at that level than if you were to read out the quick quips of an Emily Dickinson one aloud to an audíence, where the meaning is central.
As for translators and teams, the best team is the two parts of one and the same person, the gifted linguist and innovative poet, innovative as he has to mimic something he may not have been confronted with a week previously. In general, I do not think that poetry should be translated by a team where one half knows nothing of the original language - unless the source language is extremely rare.
I understand your point about "creativity". But you've got to keep that intuition under control. Otherwise you will start doing an exercise in Procrustean bending and chopping, using all the other poets you've read as models. Translations of Juhász, the Hungarian poet, have often not been anywhere near the original, however much intuition you allow for. You cannot stray too far from the meaning, or change images radically, otherwise your translation is not the same, or a near approximation, of the source language original. And the absolute pits of translation for me are two Procrustes: Ezra Pound and William Kleesmann Matthews, whose grotesquely Georgian (in the English kings sense) versions of straightforward Estonian poems go far, far beyond a little intuition.
Otherwise you will start doing an exercise in Procrustean bending and chopping, using all the other poets you've read as models. Translations of Juhász, the Hungarian poet, have often not been anywhere near the original, however much intuition you allow for.
Who's the "you", Eric? I've never translated Hungarian poetry...
DWM, you say:
Yes, perhaps we are beginning to communicate again - though I will admit I've always had a feeling that the differences between us are due to partial misunderstandings rather than total misapprehension.
For me it is a question of power. When you are beholden unto the website-holder in any way, you are less free to disagree or criticise, as I soon found out when making an attempt to examine translations of a poem or two by comparison with the original. There was also an unfortunate incident - also involving power - where political opinions contrary to those of the website-holder were literally censored out, as the opportunity for comment was cut off. Such behaviour is not conducive to civilised dialogue and debate.
This WLF website is open to everyone. I prefer dialogue where I am free to say what I like, as is the other party, however much he or she may disagree with me. It's the old public school debating society ideal, really. Both sides get a chance to reply. (I went to a grammar school, but it had its pretentions.)
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I literally thought when writing the previous reply "I hope he doesn't assume that the 'you' is personal,as opposed to a synonym for the rather stilted 'one'." But alas. One of the Juhász translators admitted that he knew no Hungarian and was relying on things he had been given by a rough-version translator. That is not a good way, as I hope we agree. That is what I was referring to; nothing to do with DWM's translations.
Nordic Voices (http://nordicvoices.blogspot.com)is a blog, and it belongs to me. It's my own personal space, and I allow guest postings and comments at my discretion. If someone starts posting opinions and comments with which I fundamentally disagree, and which I even think are dangerous, I have the right to bar them.
If you don't like a blog, you are absolutely free to start your own - that's what the freedom of the blogosphere means, and there are many such instances of this happening on the Web.
Moderation is up to the blog or website owner. WLF happens to have a relatively unmoderated policy, and that has its good and its bad sides.
For me, freedom of speech is not an absolute value - there are different kinds of freedom, and freedom entails responsibility. The freedom to be destructive is not a positive one, in my view.
I hope we can get beyond this subject, and that DWM will stay and not decide that this forum, the WLF, is too open and unmonitored for him. Monitoring is ultimately censorship, although, as we have seen from that pseudo-saintly buffoon Julian Assange, there are things, mostly military secrets, that should not be aired in public.
Let me be clear: I am more right-wing nowadays than the majority of people posting here. But I put up with mockery and backbiting. I do not want to end up in the same box as those dreadfully self-righteous right-wing rabble-rousers that sometimes pop up in, for instance, at the Spectator. People who, if you scrape the surface, were active Communists in earlier decades and now over-compensate by becoming Hooray-Henries. I feel Israel has a right to exist and even suggested you read remarks made here and there by one Isi Leibler, whose opinions I respect. There was no response whatsoever. I see no reason why I should ignore the opinions of those who think the opposite, rather than attempt to counter them. No one on this forum, however bumptious or childish, is "dangerous".
I swear by that much more sophisticated monthly, Standpoint, a magazine with both Catholic and Jewish input, that makes the Spectator look rather shoddy, because the latter publication has to churn things out every week.
That is the political side of things.
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Then there is literature. Like yourself, I have an interest in several countries and their languages. I too am more pan-Nordically inclined than some in the UK who would prefer the one-Nordic-country-only approach ("because they pay us the money"). I was rather hoping that Nordic Voices would become a forum, a discussion site, even though it is run by one man. This did not materialise. I no longer see the merit in publishing online endless instalments of things no one reads or discusses. And especially if the owner of the website is regarded (by himself) as much more powerful and dominant than the "guests" who are tolerated as long as they do not stray too much from the translate-&-publish norm. Pia Tafdrup, for instance, should be introduced and discussed. Publishing instalment after instalment does not automatically attract an audience if no one is encouraged to discuss the content, or the quality of the translation.
I feel that the arts in the UK have been over-subsidised for decades, with the sad exception of literary translation that has been all but ignored in Britain for those same decades. These discussions are worth having rather than simply publishing things that publishers have rejected. I still maintain that it would be possible to publish poetry by Gösta Ĺgren, even though Neil Astley has rejected it. Bloodaxe is not the only show in town. Gösta Ĺgren, unlike the politically correct psychiatrist Claes Andersson, is a sophisticated and thoughtful poet. The difference may also lie in the fact that Helsinki Finland-Swedes think they rule the roost, whilst in fact it is the Ostrobothnians and others that write many of the most interesting things, while the Helsinki upper-class-background Finland-Swedes regard them as yokels.
These things and others can be discussed on an open forum.
I have no problem with an open forum, Eric, and indeed for many years contributed to discussion spaces that that were open and unmoderated.
Monitoring, with its implication of spying and surveillance, is quite different from moderation, which is a useful and in my view necessary function in any open forum. It even exists here, in WLF. The absence of moderators is usually a disaster for any open discussion.
The reference to "dangerous" opinions was not directed at this forum, but at certain contributions and comments (which you did not see, because I barred them) on Nordic Voices in mid-2009.
Without moderation, abuse of the freedom of expression inevitably takes place, and under the cloak of anonymity or the supposed invulnerability of being "online" posters may say and do things to others which they would never dream of saying or doing were they to meet their fellow posters face to face.
Regarding your other points: I've addressed them elsewhere in other threads. We don't agree on these issues, but I hope we can continue to have an honest and civil debate, at least here in WLF, from time to time. I'm sorry that you continue to feel so aggrieved. I assure you that I bear you no ill will.
As regards Nordic Voices (http://nordicvoices.blogspot.com), I intend to continued publishing it as it exists at present.
I am not going to quibble about the various forms of censorship (monitoring, moderation, supervision, surveillance, etc,). I, even as a member of two PEN centres, do not agree that every scrap of information ever written down on paper should be made available to the whole world. This is why, for instance, there is a provision on this forum to write private messages to all posters. That is why I think that the Assange affair has been a disaster for free speech. Now, everyone will be worried that what was written in haste, when drunk, to limited recipients only, or when annoyed, is going to get splurged about the internet for the amusement of many and, in some sad cases, resulting in bouts of throat-slitting for informers to the Western powers.
But the other side of the coin is control freakery. You say:
The reference to "dangerous" opinions was not directed at this forum, but at certain contributions and comments (which you did not see, because I barred them) on Nordic Voices in mid-2009. I cannot imagine that anyone who wrote to Nordic Voices was recruiting for some creepy intelligence set-up or terrorist organisation. I hope that what you censored from the three or four people that actually read your blog regularly was justified..
I agree entirely that the cloak of anonymity is an irritant. But without resorting to the CIA or FSB for background information, you can actually find out who most of the posters are in real life, not least because this forum for one is run by a number of named and accessible people. Sleepers (called "lurkers" here) and propagandists will be exposed in the end, not least because of their relentless toadying or propaganda spiel.
As for the face-to-face aspect, I find it healthy that you can tell people here, when they start irrationally abusing you (right-wingers are often the target of rabid abuse), what you think of their benighted opinions, without having to meet them in the pub and hit them. There is always an opportunity to cool off with a cyber-quarrel which is not always there in the heat of the pub.
Ultimately, you've got to continue to debate with your peers and opponents, not simply run away or impose a blanket of censorship every time you are gainsaid. ("You" here = "one".)
I am not going to quibble about the various forms of censorship (monitoring, moderation, supervision, surveillance, etc,).
As I pointed out before, moderation is not necessarily censorship. By conflating monitoring and moderation, and calling the distinction between them a "quibble", one ends up accusing all intervention in a debate of being "censorship", which in my view is simply absurd. It's essential to be precise in the language one uses to describe the process of online discussion.
A blog is a different medium from an online discussion forum like WLF. A blog may choose to close its comments entirely - viz. long-established projects like Norman Geras's Normblog (http://normblog.typepad.com/). Others may opt to run an open-door policy, with a minimum of moderation. But in the end, posters to a blog's comments section who very much disagree with the blog-owner's line or views are always free to start their own blog, and this often happens, adding to the variety of the discussion.
Again, as I've said before: I suggest, Eric, that you start your own blog on Nordic literature (or perhaps literary translation in general?), which is clearly one of your interests but where our views on various issues, including the moderation of discussions, may diverge quite a bit. I am perfectly serious about this - I'm quite sure that your blog would very soon attract a decent number of readers, and it would also give you some valuable experience of the technical, administrative and legal aspects of running a public online space.
As for the face-to-face aspect, I find it healthy that you can tell people here, when they start irrationally abusing you (right-wingers are often the target of rabid abuse), what you think of their benighted opinions, without having to meet them in the pub and hit them. There is always an opportunity to cool off with a cyber-quarrel which is not always there in the heat of the pub.
On the other hand, it's certainly not healthy for people to abuse one another in "cyberspace" to the point where they end up in verbal conflicts that may be potentially libellous. That's what moderators are there to prevent.
Re the "pub" analogy: it's not a good idea to combine the consumption of alcohol with online debating - that way inevitably lies trouble, and I usually advise people against it.
Ultimately, you've got to continue to debate with your peers and opponents, not simply run away or impose a blanket of censorship every time you are gainsaid. ("You" here = "one".)
Indeed, but the peers and opponents must also respect one another as human beings, and not believe that they can indulge in ad hominem abuse and mudslinging - overt or disguised - without fear of sanction.
BTW I feel that this thread has by now gone so far off-topic as to warrant a fresh subject-heading, and I propose that any further posts in this discussion that are not related to the original topic (http://www.worldliteratureforum.com/forum/showthread.php/38389-Imitations-and-Reflections?p=79715#post79715) (#79715) be moved to a new thread, possibly in the General section.
Update: there is now a new thread on Moderation and Censorship (http://www.worldliteratureforum.com/forum/showthread.php/38606-Moderation-and-Censorship?p=80244#post80244) in the General Chat section of WLF.
DWM
http://nordicvoices.blogspot.com
http://nordicvoices.xtreemhost.com
I have just remembered two articles which can be related to this thread.
The first one was mentioned some time ago so I will just refresh one of Marshak’s sayings from it:”Вероятно, с тех пор, как существуют переводы, идет спор о пределах точности и вольности” which can be translated as:” Probably, we have been having a dispute over the limits of accuracy and liberty since the begining of the existance of translations.”
The second article (in Russian) is a comparative analysis of two translations of Shakespeare’s sonnet 74 made by Marshak and Pasternak. It is interesting that Pasternak made his translation taking into account not only the general idea, rhythm, etc. of the sonnet but stage features as well:
http://vladivostok.com/Speaking_in_tongues/pervushina4.htm
Thank you, this is an interesting article which I hadn't read before. It does emphasize the way in which literary translation in Russia - particularly the translation of poetry - has followed its own path, often being more a translation "from culture to culture" than from language to language. The analysis of the Marshak and Pasternak versions of the Shakespeare sonnet is fascinating: it demonstrates that, as the author points out, in stylistic terms Pasternak really translated Shakespeare into "Pasternak" (including echoes of the Pasternak Hamlet), while Marshak chose a more conventional approach, preferring to recreate the sonnet in the classical spirit and style of 19th century Russian poetry. Yet both versions do contain the images and ideas of the original, even though the phrasing often differs, or is modified. Their approach to the English text supplies a transforming meaning to the concept of accuracy and fidelity in translation.
David, I am glad that you liked it. I thought that the next two articles could be interested for you as well. They are analysis of the translations of the famous Shakespeare’s sonnet 66 that were mentioned in the previous article:
http://www.antho.net/library/yacobson/texts/ab66s.html
http://lib.ru/SHAKESPEARE/shks_66s.txt
Although I find Finkel's analysis sometimes строгим but I think it is very interesting and fundamental. And the comparison of different good translations is interesting on its own.
Thanks, I'll read these articles soon, and comment.
The two articles are also quite absorbing - I preferred the one by Yakobson, as it's less wordy and focuses more on the essential differences between the approaches of Marshak and Pasternak. The quotation from Bryusov about the "method of translation" in poetry is interesting, as it succinctly breaks down the translator's task into the co-ordination of the poem's essential elements: linguistic style, imagery, metre and rhyme, phonic play, etc. I think Pasternak's version of Sonnet 66 emerges from Yakobson's analysis as the better one, by quite a long way.
As far as I can see, Finkel's article omits to say that he himself translated Shakespeare's sonnets - but his analysis of the several different Russian versions is sound, I think. His criticisms of the versions by Gerbel and Chaikovsky are penetrating, and he's not afraid to point to the fact that the rather low level of achievement in them can't be attributed to any general low quality of Russian poetry translation: he points to the work of Zhukovsky, Pushkin, Tyutchev, A. K. Tolstoy, Bunin, Bryusov, Annensky and others.
The irony is, perhaps, that Gerbel's is still the standard translation of Shakespeare in Russian.
I didn't know that you read Russian, David, :).
Welcome to the Russian circle, Liam!
Welcome to the Russian circle, Liam!
Это как оскорбление для украинца, но все-же спасибо!!! :p
Простите, Лиам - я не знал, что Вы украинец, но все-же, Добро пожаловать! :)
Простите, Лиам - я не знал, что Вы украинец, но все-же, Добро пожаловать!
Only on my mother's side, ;). I do read Russian though, having taken four years of it as an undergrad.
Although obviously I was only trying to pull your leg, it's never a good idea to tell a Ukrainian to join the Russian circle, haha. Yulia Tymoshenko would have been horrified.
It's never a good idea to tell a Ukrainian to join the Russian circle, haha.
Well, as I said, I didn't know about your Ukrainian parentage.
Yulia Tymoshenko would have been horrified.
Yes indeed. All the same, Russian is spoken by quite a lot of Ukrainians, especially in the east of your country.
What did you think of the poetry translation articles that learna linked to?
All the same, Russian is spoken by quite a lot of Ukrainians, especially in the east of your country.Not my country, fortunately or unfortunately, :). I am, however, incredibly fond of it. Anyway, this was in the news recently: after Putin's proposal to teach joint Russian and Ukrainian history under the same united banner in Russian high schools, Tymoshenko snapped that that would represent a virtual betrayal of her country, or something to that extent.
What did you think of the poetry translation articles that learna linked to?I've only had time to read the first one. I, for one, prefer imitations to literal translations of poems because no translation will ever be the same as the original. An imitation, on the other hand, would be able to capture something of the spirit of the original, and perhaps move the reader sufficiently to look at the language that the original poem was written in.
Some of Jacobson's reflections on the aural significance of certain verses do ring true, when you're attempting to translate from one Indo-European language to another, but what about Classical Chinese to English? Or Arabic to French? Korean to Spanish? Aural harmony between unrelated languages is not a possibility so what, then, remains?
Russian poetry is also notoriously difficult to translate. My favorite Russian poet, as I've told Learna, is Marina Tsvetaeva, whose poems it is virtually tortuous to replicate, with any degree of originality, in English. I've been trying to translate one of her last poems (from the 1940 collection) and keep hitting my head against the wall. I think I might settle for a simple blank verse rendering, at this point.
My favorite Russian poet, as I've told Learna, is Marina Tsvetaeva, whose poems it is virtually tortuous to replicate, with any degree of originality, in English. I've been trying to translate one of her last poems (from the 1940 collection) and keep hitting my head against the wall. I think I might settle for a simple blank verse rendering, at this point.
I wish you well with your translations of Tsvetayeva. But I think that she of all Russian poets is the one who deserves and even requires the all-round translation advocated by Bryusov in his "method", incorporating not only the grammatical sense of the poems but also the sound, the rhyme, the meter, and so on. Joseph Brodsky's English translations of Tsvetayeva are maybe the ones that succeed best in that respect - you can find them in old copies of the New Yorker from the 1980s.
The two articles are also quite absorbing - I preferred the one by Yakobson, as it's less wordy and focuses more on the essential differences between the approaches of Marshak and Pasternak. The quotation from Bryusov about the "method of translation" in poetry is interesting, as it succinctly breaks down the translator's task into the co-ordination of the poem's essential elements: linguistic style, imagery, metre and rhyme, phonic play, etc. I think Pasternak's version of Sonnet 66 emerges from Yakobson's analysis as the better one, by quite a long way.
As far as I can see, Finkel's article omits to say that he himself translated Shakespeare's sonnets - but his analysis of the several different Russian versions is sound, I think. His criticisms of the versions by Gerbel and Chaikovsky are penetrating, and he's not afraid to point to the fact that the rather low level of achievement in them can't be attributed to any general low quality of Russian poetry translation: he points to the work of Zhukovsky, Pushkin, Tyutchev, A. K. Tolstoy, Bunin, Bryusov, Annensky and others.
The irony is, perhaps, that Gerbel's is still the standard translation of Shakespeare in Russian.
It is quite difficult to say which translations of Shakespeare's works are better. As it was mantioned in the articles, each translator tried to convey his/her own sense of Shakespeare's poetry. Maybe I am accustomed to them, but for me Marshak, Pasternak and Lozinsky made wonderful versions, each of them in one's own way.
As for the last lines of Romeo and Juliet I am used to these ones:
Но нет печальней повести на свете,
Чем повесть о Ромео и Джульетте.
It is quite difficult to say which translations of Shakespeare's works are better. As it was mantioned in the articles, each translator tried to convey his/her own sense of Shakespeare's poetry.
Yes, but Finkel does accuse translators like Chervinsky, Gerbel and others of "poeticizing" and sentimentalizing Shakespeare to the point where the original is quite badly distorted:
Перед нами не просто плохие переводы; перед нами определенная эстетическая система, в угоду которой и производится вся эта подмалевка. А в результате утрачивается точность содержания, ясность выражения, свобода поэтического дыхания; в результате Шекспир искажается до неузнаваемости, превращаясь в третьеразрядного поэта мещански-сентиментального толка.
Yes, but Finkel does accuse translators like Chervinsky, Gerbel and others of "poeticizing" and sentimentalizing Shakespeare to the point where the original is quite badly distorted:
Перед нами не просто плохие переводы; перед нами определенная эстетическая система, в угоду которой и производится вся эта подмалевка. А в результате утрачивается точность содержания, ясность выражения, свобода поэтического дыхания; в результате Шекспир искажается до неузнаваемости, превращаясь в третьеразрядного поэта мещански-сентиментального толка.
When I wrote about good translations, I meant such names as Marshak, Pasternak and Lozinsky.
There is no doubt that a translator should try to convey all subtleties of an original without any "aesthetic improvements." My English teacher said that if you translated something from one language into another your listener/reader should hear/read the same text as one which a native speaker of the languager from which you translated heard/read. Some people consider that a translator should be "invisible" in his/her work.
Learna says:
There is no doubt that a translator should try to convey all subtleties of an original without any "aesthetic improvements." My English teacher said that if you translated something from one language into another your listener/reader should hear/read the same text as one which a native speaker of the language from which you translated heard/read. Some people consider that a translator should be "invisible" in his/her work.
I agree. Except that in the English-speaking world, a translator cannot afford the luxury of invisibility and aloofness, as they would then get no work. But I am highly suspicious of "aesthetic improvements" which can sometimes be for the banal reason that the translator didn't understand something - but was too proud to ask a native-speaker of the source language. There have been too many charlatans in the history of translation, people who cover up their inadequacies by by bluster and "renderings".
Mary LA
03-Feb-2011, 08:07
I'm open to imitations if I know they are imitations. What has always put me off Robert Lowell's Imitations was the memory of a patient and dismayed Elizabeth Bishop trying to correct his poor understanding of French grammar leading to serious and unintended mistranslations. I think her letters to Lowell on this are in One Art, very funny but disconcerting.
I'm open to imitations if I know they are imitations.
I think the problem with Shakespeare translations like those of Chervinsky and Gerbel is that they are the product of a 19th century literary movement which strove, as in Germany during the 19th century, to recreate Shakespeare as the father of national romanticism. On the other hand, a translation like Pasternak's version of Hamlet,while remaining much more strictly faithful to the original text, is nonetheless inspired by a wish to reveal a subtext that might not have been evident to Shakespeare's contemporaries, and might have opened itself to later audiences in different ways, and in different senses. As Pasternak himself wrote:
According to the well-established view of critics, Hamlet is a tragedy of the will. This is true. But in what sense is it to be understood? Absence of will power did not exist as a theme in Shakespeare’s time: it aroused no interest. Nor does Shakespeare’s portrait of Hamlet, drawn so clearly and in so much detail, suggest a neurotic. Hamlet is a prince of the blood who never, for a moment, ceases to be conscious of his rights as heir to the throne; he is the spoilt darling of an ancient court, and self-assured in the awareness of his natural gifts. The sum of qualities with which he is endowed by Shakespeare leaves no room for flabbiness: it precludes it. Rather, the opposite is true: the audience, impressed by his brilliant prospects, is left to judge of the greatness of his sacrifice in giving them up for a higher aim.
There may be many different kinds of literary imitation and reflection, and throughout history they have often been determined by cultural, religious, aesthetic and political considerations that have little to do with the original texts or their creators. The distortion that may be produced by an inadequate knowledge of the original language is only one kind of modification that may intervene between the poet and the reader. It's highly likely that Gerbel, Chervinsky and other 19th century Russian translators of Shakespeare were just as aware as Pasternak was of the original meaning of the texts they translated - but they were impelled by ideological, aesthetic, philosophical and political considerations to change those texts in ways that audiences outside the Russian political and cultural ambit would not necessarily be able to grasp. I think that is one of the central points that Finkel makes in his article, though he doesn't make it explicitly (perhaps because he wrote and published the article during the Soviet era?)
The imitations by Annensky which I mentioned at the beginning of this thread are of a different order yet again: here there is no attempt on the part of the author, who was a French and classical scholar, to claim that these are literary translations as such - they are rather the subjective reflections of a mind that shares and fully comprehends the aesthetic world of the original texts (Baudelaire, Verlaine, Mallarmé, Prudhomme, Verhaeren, etc.), but is less concerned to convey the actual poems themselves than to recreate them as original poems in Russian.
Whether that's a legitimate form of literary work may be open to question, but it's an activity that during the 20th century grew to be quite widespread among poets, including Lowell - Annensky was an early precursor.
Learna says:
I agree. Except that in the English-speaking world, a translator cannot afford the luxury of invisibility and aloofness, as they would then get no work.
Not that extent :).
But I am highly suspicious of "aesthetic improvements" which can sometimes be for the banal reason that the translator didn't understand something - but was too proud to ask a native-speaker of the source language. There have been too many charlatans in the history of translation, people who cover up their inadequacies by by bluster and "renderings".
Agree, sometimes there is a substitute imitations (which we cannot deny if we say about translations, especially poetry) for inadequacies.
Agree, sometimes there is a substitute imitations (which we cannot deny if we say about translations, especially poetry) for inadequacies.
I think we all agree about that. My point, though, is that if we look to the past (the 19th century and before), we find that free translation was really the norm rather than the exception, while the concept of "imitation" only arrived in the 20th century, when linguistic theories came to dominate the practice of literary translation, and the demand for strict or literal faithfulness to the original text became standard.
Mary LA has a point in #38. If you know you're reading an imitation, approximation, or whatever, that's OK. But a translation is something else - the translator must try to salvage as much of the original text as possible.
The ideological distortions that David brings up are a sad state of affairs. When translators have to follow the party line, no good can come of it. They may be aware, but are helpless to do what they really want with a text. No doubt the commissars of the Soviet Union wanted kings to be ditherers, so they may have nudged the translators in that direction.
We all agree that a translator must know the source language well, but not only the language. The translator's knowledge of the whole of the source-language culture, both contemporary and historical will also affect the quality of the translation. For instance a translator familiar with Castilian Spanish will have to do his homework when tackling Argentinian authors. The same problem mutatis mutandis is when those familiar with Sweden tackle Finland-Swedish literature, or those who know the Netherlands try to translate Flemish authors. Germany, Austria, and Switzerland also have different traditions and history too.
I think we all agree about that. My point, though, is that if we look to the past (the 19th century and before), we find that free translation was really the norm rather than the exception, while the concept of "imitation" only arrived in the 20th century, when linguistic theories came to dominate the practice of literary translation, and the demand for strict or literal faithfulness to the original text became standard.
Yes, the translation theory has its evolution. Yesterday I started reading "Теория и практика перевода" by Андрей Паршин and the first pages were dedicated, in brief, to this issue. Andrey Parshin agrees with you saying that the fundamentals of the scientific theory of translation started its development just in the middle of 20th century. The translation theory officially lookes quite young, though it has a wealth of experience :).
As for Finkel's article I would not take it as an axiomatic statement, though it was an interesting reading.
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