Happens all the time, and more often I think the more fluent one is in the
source language--I'm thinking of professional translators who read the
source language while typing the target language.
It's an axiom that final proofing should be done by someone other than the
writer. In the case of translation it's also axiomatic that no one else is
likely to proof against the original. There are in fact so few editors of
translations (even at the major publishers, even at university presses)
that some of the translators I've edited are positively shocked at the
attention. Almost all are very grateful, even when they
disagree--translation is a very lonely job.
One very famous anthologist told me that he never suggests changes to
translators--he solicits work from the best translators he can find, and
it's their responsibility.
Here's a favorite. I was translating some Picasso from the Gallimard
complete poetry. Most of the work was written in French, but there's a
substantial amount of Spanish, too. In those cases the Spanish original
was printed in small type down the left margin, the French translation in
normal type on the right. My French is much better than my Spanish, so I'm
merrily going along, using the French as a trot. Until.
The translator must have been in a hurry. In the poem a torero is buried in
a "caja de pasas," a box of raisins. In French he's buried in a "maison de
passes," a bordello. I stopped using the French.
That said, I really like "the back door of anger."
Rebecca's been at this a lot longer than I have. I hope she chimes in.
Mark
At 05:40 PM 4/20/2003 +0200, you wrote:
Given for granted, Rebecca, Mark and all those who take part in this
discussion that a translation is something completely different from the
original text. I was, for example, reading Rebecca's version and going back
to the original and those were two completely distinct music talking to me.
The Spanish language with all its pathos and emotional touches, the English
with its distinction and detached pragmatism. Yes, the words were the same,
but the overall images I depicted from my entire "being" were different - I
faced this reading when I was in pieces from a hard non-stop week, which is
the moment that makes you the most sensitive, if you can keep your eyes
open.
I would anyhow like to ask a question since I am personally interested in
this thread. We all agree that - seen the impossibility of bringing back
into a different culture the values and the intensity of the original - a
poet translating a poet can maybe at best render the essence. But, and here
is my question mark, don't you also find that we, as "poets-translators"
have some formae mentis which - even after having proof-read a translation
numerous times, escape and are discovered to our disappointment some time
later?
Here is my example. Wallace talked of the "black door of anger" and I
(stupidly, illogically, what-have-you) translated "the back door of anger",
unconsciously I put anger there, it seems, and this is what is printed on
the text, which I will correct at the re-print. Notice that I also went
through the translation with Wallace reading his poems and me reading the
Italian version, a hell of a job.
Care, anny
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