Just came back from Words on the Move. It was a fascinating event, where at least 8 translations of each poem were read out. The translations differed quite widely -- but I tell you, there were phrases from each one I would steal, quite viable interpretations that would never have crossed my mind. Makes one think that some sort of composite translation would be the best approach. I've added highlights to my translation in the post below.
Most, I imagine, would think that it would be tedious to hear 8 versions of the same poem -- but really, quite the opposite is true. As a translator-participant, it helps one to improve one's prowess, and to think outside the box of one's own perceptions.
Showing posts with label LTAC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LTAC. Show all posts
Friday, April 04, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
LTAC
Last night, Phyllis Aronoff, president of the Literary Translator's Association of Canada, invited members to her place for a potluck supper and to read selections of their work by candlelight. A friend of mine suggested that being in a roomful of literary translators would be like being in a roomful of well-groomed cats. There was some truth to that speculation; of the fifteen or so people who were there, most were, I'd say, professional translators for whom literary work can only serve as icing on their cakes. All were well-read, cultured, and pleasant, and there were some delightful creatives among them to delighten the mix. The seven people who shared their work read very poetic prose, if not poetry. Beautiful stuff! Naturally, I read some of my translations of Santos, and I'm gratified to say they were well received. It seems this is an annual affair. I look forward to next year's.
Hate to say it, but the LTAC site gets my vote as possibly the ugliest on the web. I know literary translators frequently complain about being invisible; this kind of visual presentation pretty well ensures that! Time for an upgrade, obviously... in the meantime, the art of literary translation remains (to use a Buddhist metaphor) a hidden wish-fulfilling jewel that could bring peoples together and kindle refreshing trends if brought into the light. Earlier remarks on cultural diplomacy (see label below) are a propos.
Apr. 22: Just got a note from Howard Scott, the webmaster of the site, acknowledging that the site is very dated, but that redoing it is always being put off due to lack of time...
Hate to say it, but the LTAC site gets my vote as possibly the ugliest on the web. I know literary translators frequently complain about being invisible; this kind of visual presentation pretty well ensures that! Time for an upgrade, obviously... in the meantime, the art of literary translation remains (to use a Buddhist metaphor) a hidden wish-fulfilling jewel that could bring peoples together and kindle refreshing trends if brought into the light. Earlier remarks on cultural diplomacy (see label below) are a propos.
Apr. 22: Just got a note from Howard Scott, the webmaster of the site, acknowledging that the site is very dated, but that redoing it is always being put off due to lack of time...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Words on the Move
Every year the Literary Translator's Association of Canada stages "Words of the Move". Members of the general public are invited to translate an English or French poem by a living Quebec poet into the language of their choice. Their translations are posted on the association website, and they share their work with the poets who wrote the originals at a round-robin reading, which will take place this year on Friday April 4 (7 pm) at the Depanneur Cafe. I'm sure the event is always pleasant; it's also the first one I'll be able to attend, because it doesn't fall on a teaching night.
The English poet this year is Catherine Kidd (you can read her poem here); the French poet is Patrick Coppens. The Coppens poem was fun to recast into English: I did that last weekend. I don't know if it's an extract from a larger work, or meant to be a complete poem in itself. Here's my translation, followed by the original:
"I think you are a poet
but you will never find the new,
that is to say, the essential,
except in contemplating your own naval."
(Max Jacob,
letter to Francois Gachot, May 7, 1926)
"The assemblage of illusion and reality
in the same subject made him
the disturbing mirror of our inner selves. "
(Bernard Noël,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)
mais tu ne trouveras du nouveau,
c'est-à-dire l'essentiel,
qu'en contemplant ton nombril à toi. »
(Max Jacob,
lettre à François Gachot, 7 mai 1926)
« L'assemblage de l'illusion et de la réalité
dans un même objet fait de lui
le miroir troublant de notre intériorité. »
(Bernard Noël,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)
The English poet this year is Catherine Kidd (you can read her poem here); the French poet is Patrick Coppens. The Coppens poem was fun to recast into English: I did that last weekend. I don't know if it's an extract from a larger work, or meant to be a complete poem in itself. Here's my translation, followed by the original:
Secret Notebooks
of Agathe Brisebois
Patrick Coppens
******
of Agathe Brisebois
Patrick Coppens
******
I work for eternity,
in evanescence.
Space invades forms
mind intimates colors
…regarding colors,
those that fade
were not made to last.
Sleigh: words. Bells: chill.
Poetry puts in disorder
my forgotten memories.
*****
He asked me the time.
I refused.
At his befuddlement, I said:
worry not, it will come.
It was noon.
One day, I lived my life,
the next day, yours.
Then it was done.
in evanescence.
Space invades forms
mind intimates colors
…regarding colors,
those that fade
were not made to last.
Sleigh: words. Bells: chill.
Poetry puts in disorder
my forgotten memories.
*****
He asked me the time.
I refused.
At his befuddlement, I said:
worry not, it will come.
It was noon.
One day, I lived my life,
the next day, yours.
Then it was done.
"I think you are a poet
but you will never find the new,
that is to say, the essential,
except in contemplating your own naval."
(Max Jacob,
letter to Francois Gachot, May 7, 1926)
*****
Don’t forget the photos,
us dancing in Sospel,
near Merlanson.
Summer love
a gooseberry in the head.
Mysteries breed
like rabbits. Hat!
Don’t forget the photos,
us dancing in Sospel,
near Merlanson.
Summer love
a gooseberry in the head.
Mysteries breed
like rabbits. Hat!
"The assemblage of illusion and reality
in the same subject made him
the disturbing mirror of our inner selves. "
(Bernard Noël,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)
I love abstraction
in the interstices of the real.
*****
Anonymity,
some days, weighs on me,
on others, hurts;
I welcome it all the same:
none can take that away from me.
But when I write, when I draw,
I am the Queen, adulated by my subjects.
Pleasing exhausts
those who do not love themselves enough.
*****
Style.
What can I do?
LUCK IS A PAINTING
BY WINNING NUMBERS
in the interstices of the real.
*****
Anonymity,
some days, weighs on me,
on others, hurts;
I welcome it all the same:
none can take that away from me.
But when I write, when I draw,
I am the Queen, adulated by my subjects.
Pleasing exhausts
those who do not love themselves enough.
*****
Style.
What can I do?
LUCK IS A PAINTING
BY WINNING NUMBERS
-- translation by Brian Campbell ©Mar. 2008
Carnets secrets
d'Agathe Brisebois
Patrick
Coppens
*****
Je travaille pour l'éternité,
mais dans l'évanescence.
formes occupées d'espace
raison intime des couleurs
À propos des couleurs,
celles qui passent
n'étaient pas faites pour durer.
Froid de grelots, traîneau des mots.
La poésie met du désordre
dans mes souvenirs oubliés.
*****
Il s'approcha pour me demander l'heure,
Je lui refusai.
Devant son air interloqué, je précisai :
ne t'inquiète pas, elle viendra.
Il était midi.
Un jour, j'ai vécu ma vie,
et le lendemain, la tienne.
Apres, c'était fini.
« Je crois que tu es poèted'Agathe Brisebois
Patrick
Coppens
*****
Je travaille pour l'éternité,
mais dans l'évanescence.
formes occupées d'espace
raison intime des couleurs
À propos des couleurs,
celles qui passent
n'étaient pas faites pour durer.
Froid de grelots, traîneau des mots.
La poésie met du désordre
dans mes souvenirs oubliés.
*****
Il s'approcha pour me demander l'heure,
Je lui refusai.
Devant son air interloqué, je précisai :
ne t'inquiète pas, elle viendra.
Il était midi.
Un jour, j'ai vécu ma vie,
et le lendemain, la tienne.
Apres, c'était fini.
mais tu ne trouveras du nouveau,
c'est-à-dire l'essentiel,
qu'en contemplant ton nombril à toi. »
(Max Jacob,
lettre à François Gachot, 7 mai 1926)
*****
Ne pas oublier les photos ;
celles où nous dansions à Sospel,
au bord du Merlanson.
amours d'été
une groseille dans la tête
Les mystères se reproduisent
comme des lapins. Chapeau !
Ne pas oublier les photos ;
celles où nous dansions à Sospel,
au bord du Merlanson.
amours d'été
une groseille dans la tête
Les mystères se reproduisent
comme des lapins. Chapeau !
« L'assemblage de l'illusion et de la réalité
dans un même objet fait de lui
le miroir troublant de notre intériorité. »
(Bernard Noël,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)
J'aime l'abstraction
dans les interstices du réel.
*****
L'anonymat,
certains jours, me pèse,
d'autres, me chagrine;
je m'en réjouis tout de même
car personne ne peut m'en priver.
Mais quand j'écris, quand je dessine,
je me sens reine, adulée par mes sujets.
Plaire épuise ceux
qui ne s'aiment pas assez.
*****
Le style.
Qu'y puis-je ?
LA CHANCE EST UNE PEINTURE
À NUMÉROS GAGNANTS.
dans les interstices du réel.
*****
L'anonymat,
certains jours, me pèse,
d'autres, me chagrine;
je m'en réjouis tout de même
car personne ne peut m'en priver.
Mais quand j'écris, quand je dessine,
je me sens reine, adulée par mes sujets.
Plaire épuise ceux
qui ne s'aiment pas assez.
*****
Le style.
Qu'y puis-je ?
LA CHANCE EST UNE PEINTURE
À NUMÉROS GAGNANTS.
Just came back from Words on the Move. It was a fascinating event, where at least 8 translations of each poem were read out. The translations differed quite widely -- but I tell you, there were phrases from each one I would steal, and quite viable ones that would never have crossed my mind. Makes one think that composite translation would be the best approach. Will add some highlights to the post below.
Most, I imagine, would think that it would be tedious to hear and read 8 versions of the same poem -- but really, quite the opposite is true. It helps one to improve one's own prowess, to think outside the box of one's own perceptions.
Here are some highlights from other translations:
Where I translated,
Maxianne Berger wrote,
Where I translated,
Maxianne Berger translated
and Hugh Hazelton translated
Karin Montin
and Greg Kelm wrote
Where I translated,
Maxianne wrote,
and Hugh Hazelton wrote,
and Greg Kelm wrote,
Where I (and others) wrote, quite literally
Maxianne wrote
Jonathan Kaplansky wrote
and Claire Maryniak
and Greg Kelm
And for the final line, where I wrote
Maxianne wrote
Jonathan Kaplansky
while Karin Montin wrote,
and Aviva Shimelman
Most, I imagine, would think that it would be tedious to hear and read 8 versions of the same poem -- but really, quite the opposite is true. It helps one to improve one's own prowess, to think outside the box of one's own perceptions.
Here are some highlights from other translations:
Where I translated,
I work for eternity,
in evanescence
in evanescence
Maxianne Berger wrote,
I towards forever
but within evanescence.
but within evanescence.
Where I translated,
Sleigh: words. Bells: chill.
Maxianne Berger translated
Chill of sleighbells, sledding words.
and Hugh Hazelton translated
Shivering bells, sleighing words.
Karin Montin
jingling cold, sleighful of words
and Greg Kelm wrote
Jingle jangle, words in a tangle.
Where I translated,
Poetry puts in disorder
my forgotten memories.
my forgotten memories.
Maxianne wrote,
Poetry makes a muddle
of the memories I don't recall.
of the memories I don't recall.
and Hugh Hazelton wrote,
Poetry messes up
my forgotten memories.
my forgotten memories.
and Greg Kelm wrote,
Poetry jumbles up
my forgotten memories.
my forgotten memories.
Where I (and others) wrote, quite literally
Summer love
a gooseberry in the head
a gooseberry in the head
Maxianne wrote
summer love
pudding head
pudding head
Jonathan Kaplansky wrote
summer loves
giddy-headed
giddy-headed
and Claire Maryniak
summer loves
berries for brains
berries for brains
and Greg Kelm
summer love
a currant in my brain.
a currant in my brain.
And for the final line, where I wrote
LUCK IS A PAINTING
BY WINNING NUMBERS
BY WINNING NUMBERS
Maxianne wrote
BY NUMBERS THAT WIN
Jonathan Kaplansky
WHOSE NUMBERS HAVE WON
while Karin Montin wrote,
FORTUNE IS A PAINT-BY-NUMBER KIT
WITH LUCKY NUMBERS
WITH LUCKY NUMBERS
and Aviva Shimelman
LUCK IS A PAINT-BY-NUMBERS
MASTERPIECE
MASTERPIECE
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Yesterday, I became a member of the Literary Translator's Association of Canada. (Well, I had a nice talk with the person in charge and sent in my cheque and application.) High time, actually. I'm hoping they'll be able to tip me off on where to send Francisco Santos' book for review, among other things. Any suggestions? (I expect a goose egg here, but maybe maybe maybe)
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
WORDS ON THE MOVE: Translation of Carole David's Bouche à Bouche
This year, for the second time, members of the public were invited by the Literary Translator's Association of Canada to translate poems by two of Quebec's best-known poets in an event called Words on the Move. The poets this year were Carole David (Bouche à Bouche) and Robyn Sarah (Once, Desire). Some twenty translators participated in rendering the David poem into English, including yours truly (two others translated it to Italiano). Other notables in the Montreal English literary scene who participated include Maxianne Berger, Elise Moser, and Hugh Hazelton.
The original poem can be seen here.
My translation can be seen here.
All the translations can be accessed here.
The call for translations took place back in January. A reading of the translations took place, appropriately enough, at the best-known hangout for Montreal francophone writers, the cafe-bistro Les Gâteries, on Feb. 9. I unfortunately couldn't be present because of teaching commitments. The translations just got posted on the web last week.
Obviously, it was an enjoyable experience for everyone involved. I look forward to the chance to do it again in coming years.
The David poem seemed pretty easy to intelligably render using obvious, viz. literal word choices . There were relatively few awkwardnesses. Hence what is most striking, perhaps, is the similarity between the translations.
I'm sure, however, that all the translators found they were in immediate contact with quite a different sensibility than one ordinarily finds in English, a sensibility that is all but impossible to satisfactorily render. French is an exceptionally subtle and gentle kind of whisper-language (yet forceful within its gentleness, an iron-fist-in-velvet-glove quality) that sustains passionate expressions of abstraction with far more authority than English. "Nous sommes depuis sortis de la réalité", for instance, has far more elegance -- and punch -- than "We have since left reality" or anything like that we can muster.
In my own translation, I departed from the literal in a number of places. I translated "prends moi sur la sol" -- literally "take me on the ground" -- to "take me on the trestle" -- I liked the rhythms and sound and in the train context it seemed to work better. Translating the final question -- "faut-il que je te le rappelle aujourd'hui" -- as a statement is perhaps a more questionable departure, and looking at it today, I still have reservations. Somehow, though, in French the word "rapeller" (with its internal "appelle", call, naming) has greater strength than "remind " or "tell you about", or even "recall"; as well, the multisyllabic way of phrasing the question -- which word-by-word comes out as "Must it be that I you it recall today" -- contains an echo-chamber of subtle relations that cannot be reproduced in English. In English the question "Must I tell you this today" (or whatever... see other translations for possible alternatives) seems at once bald and weak. So I opted to preserve paralellisms and a kind of breathless "I have to tell you this today." (If the narrator internally questions why she must tell him this today, she still has to tell him, right??? Well, yes...)
As Borges put it in an interview back in the early eighties (Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Interviews by Roberto Alifano 1981-83) "At present, literal translations are in vogue... from the very beginning we lose the rhythms -- which to me are more essential to the poetry than the abstract meaning of the words... I believe that literal translations only offer help in understanding a text, but nothing more. It is now common to publish bilingual editions, which lead the translator to a more literal version, perhaps too literal, since he knows that the reader compares the original with the translation. I disagree with this editorial format, which surely works against the translator."
Funny -- usually I prefer bilingual editions, because through them I get the chance to taste the original for myself, even if it's a language I don't know. But I have to agree with him on the limitations of literal translation they enforce.
Of course, I wasn't at the reading, but I imagine it may have gotten monotonous if they had read out more than four or five translations, since they were all so similar. Perhaps next time if the LTAC chose a more problematic poem, one that could be translated several strikingly different ways, it would reveal more about the dilemmas translators always face. (This, I recognize, is a tall order...)
The original poem can be seen here.
My translation can be seen here.
All the translations can be accessed here.
The call for translations took place back in January. A reading of the translations took place, appropriately enough, at the best-known hangout for Montreal francophone writers, the cafe-bistro Les Gâteries, on Feb. 9. I unfortunately couldn't be present because of teaching commitments. The translations just got posted on the web last week.
Obviously, it was an enjoyable experience for everyone involved. I look forward to the chance to do it again in coming years.
The David poem seemed pretty easy to intelligably render using obvious, viz. literal word choices . There were relatively few awkwardnesses. Hence what is most striking, perhaps, is the similarity between the translations.
I'm sure, however, that all the translators found they were in immediate contact with quite a different sensibility than one ordinarily finds in English, a sensibility that is all but impossible to satisfactorily render. French is an exceptionally subtle and gentle kind of whisper-language (yet forceful within its gentleness, an iron-fist-in-velvet-glove quality) that sustains passionate expressions of abstraction with far more authority than English. "Nous sommes depuis sortis de la réalité", for instance, has far more elegance -- and punch -- than "We have since left reality" or anything like that we can muster.
In my own translation, I departed from the literal in a number of places. I translated "prends moi sur la sol" -- literally "take me on the ground" -- to "take me on the trestle" -- I liked the rhythms and sound and in the train context it seemed to work better. Translating the final question -- "faut-il que je te le rappelle aujourd'hui" -- as a statement is perhaps a more questionable departure, and looking at it today, I still have reservations. Somehow, though, in French the word "rapeller" (with its internal "appelle", call, naming) has greater strength than "remind " or "tell you about", or even "recall"; as well, the multisyllabic way of phrasing the question -- which word-by-word comes out as "Must it be that I you it recall today" -- contains an echo-chamber of subtle relations that cannot be reproduced in English. In English the question "Must I tell you this today" (or whatever... see other translations for possible alternatives) seems at once bald and weak. So I opted to preserve paralellisms and a kind of breathless "I have to tell you this today." (If the narrator internally questions why she must tell him this today, she still has to tell him, right??? Well, yes...)
As Borges put it in an interview back in the early eighties (Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Interviews by Roberto Alifano 1981-83) "At present, literal translations are in vogue... from the very beginning we lose the rhythms -- which to me are more essential to the poetry than the abstract meaning of the words... I believe that literal translations only offer help in understanding a text, but nothing more. It is now common to publish bilingual editions, which lead the translator to a more literal version, perhaps too literal, since he knows that the reader compares the original with the translation. I disagree with this editorial format, which surely works against the translator."
Funny -- usually I prefer bilingual editions, because through them I get the chance to taste the original for myself, even if it's a language I don't know. But I have to agree with him on the limitations of literal translation they enforce.
Of course, I wasn't at the reading, but I imagine it may have gotten monotonous if they had read out more than four or five translations, since they were all so similar. Perhaps next time if the LTAC chose a more problematic poem, one that could be translated several strikingly different ways, it would reveal more about the dilemmas translators always face. (This, I recognize, is a tall order...)
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