Deforming Tendencies in Literary Translation (Antoine Berman)

William Carlos Williams - imaginary translation and translations from the Spanish Cancioneros

- read W C W's "imaginary translation" in p. 163 of the anthology and think of his purpose in producing such a genre as "imaginary translation"

- William Carlos Williams' translations from the Spanish Cancioneros. Focus especially on Williams' versions of the songs "El Alba nos mira" (p. 161) and "Alamos del prado" (p. 162), from 1913 (p.155-156 and 154-155, respectively) and 1936 (p.158-9 and160, respectively). Choose one and comment on what their differences indicate about translation procedures and the avoidance (or enhancement) of deforming tendencies.

Translating Gary Snyder...

Nature is not a place to visit, it’s home.
- Gary Snyder

For last week’s presentation (October, 22nd) we’ve had the opportunity to know Gary Snyder: his work, his way of life, his line of thinking and we’ve considered it a great experience.
While studying Snyder and reading his poetry, one must keep in mind that, besides from being a member of the “beat generation”, he practiced (and still does) environmental advocacy with a strong ecological consciousness. Snyder is a Zen Buddhist who sees poetry as an exercise of meditation between men and the surrounding nature, he writes about his experience blending physical reality and observations of nature. He tells no tales, what he says is what he experienced.

Our translation process was highly influenced by that simplicity.

It’s terribly hard to be able to translate a poem without giving wings to your poetic self and actually, you only realize it when you’re “on the job”.
In order to follow the originals and to be as truthful as possible, we chose to accomplish a word-by-word translation. However it wasn´t quite successful as we would’ve hoped.
In order to translate Wang Wei’s poem “Deer Park”, we studied the original, then it’s word-by-word translation and after comparing the several available translations, we decided to work from Snyder’s version. His seemed to be the most “clean” and “raw”, it had no flourishes and it went straight to the point.

Unfortunately, although we tried, we couldn’t place ourselves as far as it was required in this matter, as you can see:

Deer Park

Empty mountains
no one to be seen.
Yet—hear—
human sounds and echoes.
Returning sunlight
enters the dark woods;
Again shining
on the green moss, above.

                               - Gary Snyder, 1978

And then ours:

Montanhas

Montanhas sós
Ninguém à vista,
Ainda assim –
oiço sons de gente e ecos
Vejo a luz do Sol
que rasga a escuridão dos bosques
Brilha de cima
sobre o verde musgo.

                               - Sónia Lima e José Carvalho, 2015


To translate Meng Haoran, we used the same scrutinizing method and once again, Gary Snyder’s translation was by far the simpliest and the one who resembled both the original and Meng Haoran’s purpose. Once more, we chose to follow Snyder’s line of thinking:

Mooring on Chien-te River
The boat rocks at anchor by the misty island
Sunset, my loneliness comes again.
In these vast wilds the sky arches down to the trees.
In the clear river water, the moon draws near.

                                  - Tr. by Gary Snyder

And then ours:

Deslizando pelo Rio Jiande
O barco desce pelo rio,
Ao encontro de uma ilha,
Perdida na neblina. O pôr-do-sol entristece-me.
Olho o céu acima que se estende pelas copas das árvores,
Vasto, à distância de um toque.
O rio desliza em silêncio,
A lua chega perto de nós.

                                  - Tr. By Sónia Lima e José Carvalho

So, we come to the conclusion that the poet writes mostly for two reasons: he writes for himself and writes for the public expecting to extend his experiences to others. Snyder practices poetry writing by nature and creates a new kind of poetry that is direct, non-romantic, concrete and ecological.

He also rarely uses metaphors and symbols because they create a detachment from the thing itself.
In Snyder's poetry, the experience is much more important than the adjectives you're able to use while describing it. You should be able to focus mainly on the feeling it brings.

Translation Strategies and Procedures

TRANSLATION OF “Farewell To a Friend” (LI BAI)

TRANSLATION OF “Farewell To a Friend” (LI BAI)

Source: Ezra Pound’s Translations

by Ricardo Vaz Trindade

1 – Ezra Pound’s translation

“Farewell To a Friend”

Blue mountains to the north of the walls,

White river winding about them;

Here we must make separation

And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.

Mind like a floating wide cloud,

Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances

Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.

Our horses neigh to each other as we are departing.

My very first impression on this translation was that it was a little too colorful and vivid for a farewell poem. I also somewhat disliked the lyricism that came along with words like “dead grass”, “floating wide cloud” or “bow over their clasped hands”. It seemed to me that there were too many adjectives for too little (or straightforward) substance.  I immediately wanted to translate it without any further information and quickly summarized a couple of imperatives:

-          All verses should contribute to an idea of “being alone” or “loneliness”;

-          All the “excessive” descriptions should be leveled and become synesthetic experiences, rather than visual ones, in order to – again – emphasize the idea of “loneliness”;

-          Where possible, the number of words should be cut down to the minimum, and the syntax should be straightforward, in order to reflect the “simplicity” of the Chinese language;

-           I should like what I just wrote.

2 – My first translation

“Despedida de um amigo”

A norte das muralhas, as montanhas de ozono,

O rio brilhante entrelaçado nos vales;

É aqui que nos separamos

Para seguirmos caminho nas planícies mudas.

As nuvens suspensas e o sol tardio

Agraciam o nosso desencontro,

Escutam o nosso último abraço.

O som dos cavalos é a última coisa que ouvimos.

2.1 – Retroversion

“Farewell to a friend”

To the north of the walls, the ozone mountains,

The shining river braided through the valleys;

Here we part

To then carry on the mute plains.

The hovering clouds and the late sun

Grace our withdrawal,

Listen to our last embrace.

The sound of the horses is the last we hear.

The assessment of this translation was made together with Margarida, who pointed out the following details:

-          The chromatic experience in Pound’s translation was lost;

-          There was a huge anachronism in “ozone”, a gas that would only be recognized in the 19^th century, around 1000 years after than Li Bai’s decease;

-          There was a general feeling of re-writing rather than translating from Pound.

I also started doing some research on Pound and on the poem, including other translations and the Chinese original:

 “A Farewell to a Friend“

With a blue line of mountains north of the wall,
And east of the city a white curve of water, Here you must leave me and drift away Like a loosened water-plant hundreds of miles.... 
I shall think of you in a floating cloud;
So in the sunset think of me.
...We wave our hands to say good-bye,
And my horse is neighing again and again.

(Tr. Witter Binner) 

“A un amigo que parte”

Montañas azules al norte de las murallas,

alrededor el río blanco se crispa;

aquí precisa separarnos

y recorrer mil millas de pasto muerto.

La mente como ancha flotante nube,

el ocaso como la partida de viejas amistades

que se inclinan sobre sus enlazadas manos a distancia.

Nuestros caballos relinchan uno a outro mientras partimos.

(Tr. Guillermo Rousset Banda from Ezra Pound’s version)

I found out that some criticism was addressed to Pound, concerning his translations of Li Bai’s poems. They are often regarded as “free interpretations” rather than translation works. He sometimes adds imagistic insights where they don’t exist, but also tries to keep close to some aspects of the text. The degree of his reworking of the poems is variable. He is accused by some critics of having his own expressive agenda, which is a source of annoyance to Chinese readers, who often find his poems unreadable. Nonetheless we must acknowledge the intrinsic beauty of his re-writings.

           

At this point I recollected some of Pound’s views on literature and poetry, which can be found in “How to read” in Literary Essays of Ezra Pound (1928). T. S. Eliot (ed.):

-         “Liberty is the right to do anything which harms not others. All of which is rather negative and unsatisfactory.” 

-        “[The function of literature in the state, in the aggregation of humans, in the republic, in the  res publica] has to do with the clarity and vigour of ‘any and every’ thought and opinion. It has to do with the maintaining of the very cleanness of the tools, the health of the very matter of thought itself.”

-          “Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.”

-           The three “kinds of poetry” enunciated by pound:

       Melopœia (Melos = Music) – Musical property of words

       Panopœia (Phanos = Light) – Casting of visual images

       Logopœia (Logos = Verb/Reason) – Intellectual/ironical play with words

     I also noted that the Chinese original (through its literal translation) contained some of what we could call “faults”, rather than options, in Pound’s version. Indeed Pound used Ernest Fenollosa’s unpublished notes on Chinese poetry as the source for his work, and back in 1915 he didn’t have any crosschecking options. Fenollosa’s translations were themselves secondhand versions that went through a Japanese filter, as they were worked out together with two Japanese professors. This means that Pound’s versions were at least three iterations away from Li Bai’s poem.

Trying to keep as close to Pound as possible, I also aimed at “correcting” Pound’s oversights. For example, the mountains, which are now “past the northern wall”, rather than “north of the wall”, were given back its normal color, green (the Chinese character for “green” is the same as for “blue”).

With all this in mind I attempted a second translation. Besides, I put aside my personal taste for a moment and sought a more converging solution towards Pound’s version.

3 – My second translation

“Despedida de um amigo”

As montanhas verdes para lá da muralha norte,

A nascente da cidade, o rio branco serpenteante;

Aqui nos apartamos

Para palmilharmos mil quilómetros de pastos secos.

Uma grande nuvem vela a alma do viajante,

O sol poente pinta a separação

De dois velhos amigos que acenam de longe.

O nitrido dos cavalos ouve-se à distância.

3.1 – Retroversion

“Farewell to a friend”

Green mountains past the northern wall,

To the east of the city, the winding white river;

Here we part

And tread a thousand miles of dead pastures.

A great cloud obscures the traveler’s soul,

The setting sun colors the separation

Of two old friends who now wave from far away.

The horses’ neigh is heard from a distance.

I couldn’t really resist the temptation of introducing some of the aspects from my first translation (e.g.: in the 6^th verse I maintain the synesthetic idea of a landscape that reflects the farewell  - “O sol poente pinta a separação” [“The setting sun colors the separation”]). Even if this version is more according to Pound’s, I still believe it’s not quite fitted to the original text.

I went back to the Chinese text and tried to learn more about the structure. As I heard its elocution (you can listen to it on http://www.followtheblueflute.com/2012/04/li-bais-seeing-off-friend-300-tang.html - click the video) and double-checked the pronunciation, I surprisingly found out that the poem rhymes in an A-B-C-B structure, together with the 4 character structure, which I already knew. I couldn’t help trying to assimilate these new procedures in a new translation. I devised two stanzas within a 10 rhythmic-syllable verse.

           

4 – My third translation

“Despedida de um amigo”

Verdes montanhas p’ra lá da muralha;

Rio, cidade, encostados a elas.

Este, o lugar onde nos despedimos

Rumo às mil estepes de cores amarelas.

Nuvens assombram e velam a alma

Do meu amigo p’lo sol escondido.

Longe acenamos, ouvindo-se o eco

Do seu cavalo chorando nitridos.

4.1 – Retroversion

(Note that this is a literal translation and all the rhythmic and rhyming features are lost. However, one can still verify the shift in semantics.)

“Farewell to a friend”

Green mountains past the Wall;

River, city, leaning on them.

This, the place where we see each other off

Heading to the thousand steppes of yellow colors.

Clouds haunt and conceal the soul

Of my friend hidden by the sun.

From far away we wave, as we hear the echo

Of his horse crying neighs.

As a conclusion I would say that I’m not satisfied with any of translations so far. As a translation exercise it clearly shows how wide is the range of possibilities and how challenging can the translator’s task be, even when considering a small and simple poem as this one.

I can’t help realizing that one should find his or her own poetic voice before engaging on the drill of translating poetry, as Pound surely found his. Only then can one be appeased with his own words, even if they don’t fit everybody’s ears.

Homework for November 2

Read Antoine Berman's warning against "deforming tendencies" in literary translation (anthology, p. 146-152 - English readers only can download an English version from here)
Try to exemplify the temptation and/or avoidance of these tendencies in Fernando Pessoa's translation of "Ulalume" by Edgar Allan Poe, or others done so far (including William Carlos Williams, which you might want to start to read)

(photograph of Antoine Berman)

T. S. Eliot, "Tradition and the Individual Talent" (1920)

One error, in fact, of eccentricity in poetry is to seek for new human emotions to express; and in this search for novelty in the wrong place it discovers the perverse. The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all. And emotions which he has never experienced will serve his turn as well as those familiar to him. Consequently, we must believe that “emotion recollected in tranquillity” is an inexact formula. For it is neither emotion, nor recollection, nor, without distortion of meaning, tranquillity. It is a concentration, and a new thing resulting from the concentration, of a very great number of experiences which to the practical and active person would not seem to be experiences at all; it is a concentration which does not happen consciously or of deliberation. These experiences are not “recollected,” and they finally unite in an atmosphere which is “tranquil” only in that it is a passive attending upon the event. Of course this is not quite the whole story. There is a great deal, in the writing of poetry, which must be conscious and deliberate. In fact, the bad poet is usually unconscious where he ought to be conscious, and conscious where he ought to be unconscious. Both errors tend to make him “personal.” Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.

Cf. Fernando Pessoa, "Autopsicografia" (1932)

O poeta é um fingidor. 
Finge tão completamente 
Que chega a fingir que é dor 
A dor que deveras sente. 

E os que lêem o que escreve, 
Na dor lida sentem bem, 
Não as duas que ele teve, 
Mas só a que eles não têm.

E assim nas calhas de roda 
Gira, a entreter a razão, 
Esse comboio de corda 
Que se chama o coração.