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In translation
I used to think about translation as something mechanical, like a computer. You feed in some words, it spits out some other words. Simple as that. And a bad translation was one that strayed too far from the original, one where the translator tried to get fancy and introduce his own ideas.[1]
Then I actually learned a foreign language. Blast went a few assumptions, namely:
- Every English word has its equivalent in other languages.
- The best way to get the audience to understand is to literally translate each separate word.
- Translation is pretty much the same, no matter who does it.
Later, in a last-minute scramble to locate a reading for a wedding, I found a collection of Pablo Neruda’s work. Each poem was printed in Spanish on one page, English on the facing page. I was so relieved to find a reading that was loving but not sappy, passionate without being inappropriate, that I hardly glanced at the other books I’d brought home from the library.
Weeks later, I went to return them and came across the same poem again in another anthology. But this English version was uglier, clunkier. This guy clearly doesn’t have as light a touch, I thought. And then I realized that I was thinking of the translator as a poet.
The more closely I looked, the more I was astonished at the variation in translations, not just style but quality.
Consider this line:
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
(Pablo Neruda, Cien sonetos de amor, Sonnet XVII)
It can be translated as prosaic:
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.[2]
or more formal:
so close that your eyes grow heavy when I tire.[3]
It can focus on the emotion:
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.[4]
or take flight into the fanciful:
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.[5]
It all depends on the translator – her background, her skill, her understanding of the world the poet came from. If she likes him she may translate him sympathetically; if she is contemptuous of his politics she may slash at his naiveté. If she is not well educated her own vocabulary may be impoverished. If she is ignorant of his circumstances she may mistake his tone, reading honest devotion for sarcasm, or vice versa.
So now I’m wondering why no one has published a collection that includes poems in their original language, followed by three or four different translations for contrast. Perhaps this already exists, and I am not aware of it. A quick search found an apparently defunct website of a newsletter that invited readers’ translations of a chosen poem.
The community of professional translators must be fairly small. If a book like this exists, it is probably marketed just to this audience. Which is a shame, because it seems like something that would be a good discusson-starter even in a beginner-level language class. And of course there are probably other people like me, who would read something like that for fun.
Suggestions and speculation welcome.
- “His or her” is awkward, and so I vary pronouns at random. Please do not interpret this as sexism, feminism, or any other ism.
↩ - (Translator unknown.) ↩
- (Translator David Short.) ↩
- (Translator Stephen Mitchell, Into the Garden; Harper Perennial, 1993.) ↩
- (Translator Mark Eisner, The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems; City Lights Books, 2004.) ↩
This is a fascinating topic and I wish I had time to reply. But for now here are a couple suggested sources.
You should definitely check out Douglas Hofstadter’s book ‘Le Ton beau de Marot’ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Ton_beau_de_Marot), 600 pages inspired by the seemingly simple task of translating a 28 line poem from French to English.
Also, the annual anthology Two Lines, produced by the Center for the Art of Translation, presents a range of new international writing treated by multiple English language translators.
Nick, what have you found to be your favorite neruda translator (as you seem to have surveyed quite a few)?
Alas, the only Spanish I can decipher is what I can pick up from my Latin. For a favorite Neuruda translator, you’ll have to ask Sra. Bibliotecaria
Rebekah, thanks for the recommendations. The Center for the Art of Translation! I knew there had to be a gathering ground for like-minded folks.
Amy, I like Stephen Mitchell the most, at least from what I’ve seen of his translations. But I have only read his versions of Neruda’s love poems. I might have a different reaction to the political stuff.
do you like fanciful translations? did the book you checked out have a red poppy on its cover (my mom’s photo?) i talk about translation in the intro to the essential neruda… http://www.redpoppy.net/pablo_neruda_aboutbook.php.. it includes three or four of stephen mitchell’s translations, stephen (whose translations of the tao and rilke’s letters to a young poet are two of the books closest/part of my soul) has his own wonderul book of neruda translations, Full Woman, Fleshy Apple, Hot Moon (the title of the poem quoted above)… its focus is on neruda’s lighter work, not his political.. please consider becoming a member of our garden at http://www.redpoppy.net, we’re trying to finish a documentary on neruda and many other projects… bringing art and music to children in northern mexico… an anthology of poetry written during pinochet’s dictatorship… and we need all the help we can get…
paz,
mark
ps: i’m friends with the people at the center for art in translation… their program poetry inside out, working with translation with children in schools is amazing.. some of their students read neruda at our big festival in sf for his 2004 centennial and moved the whole crowd
i’m sorry, by the way, full woman is the sonnet after the one you quoted above, but for a poster of that one, check out http://www.redpoppy.net/pablo_neruda_poster.php. we do have a few posters left…
Mark, thanks for the suggestions. I guess I’d have to say I like fanciful translations if the poet him/herself was fanciful. Otherwise it seems kind of inappropriate. (It’s not like a cover song where you’re expecting the second artist to reinterpret the work.)
I was familiar with Full Woman, but not The Essential Neruda. Always nice to get sent in new directions.