Les Miz
In the latest issue of the LRB, Patrick McGuinness writes of Victor Hugo, poet, citing examples from three different translations of his verse.
One of the most interesting parts of the review demonstrates, once again, the impact of personal choice and of the translator’s feel for images and cadence.
As we all know, poetry is near impossible (cf. a nerve-wracking joy) to translate, and a futile undertaking for any translator who is not (him)herself a poet at heart.
What’s interesting too in these examples is the not always successful attempt to evoke a style reminiscent of 19th century English verse, thinking it will somehow boost the authenticity of the translation. While it may help give readers a feel for the source in other cases, with Hugo it undermines his originality and sounds stilted.
Here is Hugo’s Demain dès l’aube and the three translators’ rendering of it.
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Monte has:
Tomorrow, at dawn, when the fields bleach in the sun,
I will set out. I know it’s me you’re waiting for.
I’ll pass through the forest and pass by the mountains:
I can’t be separated from you any more.
The Blackmores:
At dawn tomorrow, when the plains grow bright,
I’ll go. You wait for me, I know you do.
I’ll cross the woods, I’ll cross the mountain-height.
No longer can I keep away from you.
Harry Guest:
At dawn, tomorrow, when the landscape’s whitening,
I shall set off. You are expecting me.
I’ll take the forest road, the upland road.
I can’t go on living so far from you.
All are commendable in some way, but all fall short (and flat). Among other things, it’s curious that not one has translated “Vois-tu” (you see) which is key to the intimacy. Only one repeats “j’irai,” falling into the odd English obsession with avoiding repetition. And, well, “mountain height” is just plain weird.
But… because it’s so easy to be critical, and so difficult to translate poetry, here’s a deceptively simple bit of Hugo (poet, not puppy) for you to try your hand at.
On doute
La nuit . . .
J’écoute:
Tout fuit,
Tout passe;
L’espace
Efface
Le bruit.
Monte’s translation (deflates?) to get you started:
Unsure
Of night,
I pause . . .
The round
World fades,
And space
Deflates
The sound.
A literal translation:
We doubt
At night . . .
I listen:
Everything flees,
Everything passes;
Space
Erases
The noise.
And my own hasty first draft, which I’m sure to regret (damn, I need a rhyming dictionary; a word for noise that rhymes with night, hmmm)…
Misgivings
At night
I’m listening:
All’s flight
All passes
Space
Erases
The fight.
· · • · ·
À vos plumes, chers poètes…
- (so hugo the puppy hasn’t learned to write yet?)
french is a funny language, while the meaning can be translated, the subtlety, the inclination, the emphasis of the chosen words seems to get lost along the way side.
— michelle Jun 25, 1:25pm # - Tomorrow, at dawn, when the landscape’s bleached,
I’ll leave. See, I know you’re waiting for me.
I’ll go through the forest, I’ll go over the mountains.
I can no longer live so far away from you.
— JP Jun 25, 1:47pm # - What kind of a handicap do legal translators get?
Anyway, have a laugh:
At night
What a fright
Listen now
What and how?
Passing through
In the gloom
Elude
The rude
— Agent 970 Jun 25, 2:50pm # - Sorry, Gail, but I like the literal translation the best, actually, and ironically. French is a difficult language, indeed, and can be very tricky. One of my favorite examples of this is the French translation of “to faint,” which is, as you know, “tomb dans les pommes,” or “fall in the apples.” Curious, very curious. Ah well. The folly of translation. Although, there is no way around it, I suppose, unless one happens to be William James Sidis and can master languages in a matter of days.
— Doug Jun 25, 9:44pm # - Doubts
At night…
Listen:
All flee,
All pass;
Space
Erase
Noise
babelfish
http://babelfish.altavista.com/babelfish/tr
One doubts the night. . . I listen: All flees, Any master key; Space Erase Noise.
— toph Jun 26, 12:27am # - I never was any good at finding a rhyme ;-)
shit happens?
can’t sleep
he listens
not a creep
I grow older
shit happens
I go on…
Or, for that matter, at rhythm, meter or reason…
when dawn stirs, stills and brightens
you know I’ll leave. ‘Cause I know your waiting
the road’s a bitch, the road is long
a moment more without you…
Best,
Dug
— Dug Falby Jun 26, 7:29am # - Oh, I like Dug’s grunge romanticism, and I admit upon re-reading that the literal I gave is less annoying that my sorry attempts at adhering to the rhyme.
To add to “tomber dans les pommes” is the adorable turn of phrase “haut comme trois pommes” (three apples tall) to say “when you were little” or knee-high to a grasshopper.
— gail Jun 26, 2:17pm # - Doubters we are
At night…
I’m attuned:
Everything flees,
Everything passes;
Space
wipes away
the clamour.
— t.raenon Jun 26, 3:04pm # - This is why I’m going to major in computer science.
— Warren Jun 26, 10:47pm # - darkness
brings doubt…
hear me:
some flee,
some fade;
the heavens
still
all voices.
— cdc Jun 27, 8:01am # - With a poem this short and tight it’s all in the timing; it’s fatal to make the lines longer, and it’s more important to keep the spirit than cling to detailed meaning. (A similar lyric, even harder to translate, is Goethe’s Wandrers Nachtlied, the one that starts “Uber allen Gipfeln…”)
A hasty attempt:
We doubt
at night…
I listen:
all flies,
all passes.
Let space
efface
the fuss.
— language hat Jun 27, 12:14pm # - It’s a nerve-wracking business this, for sure. Anyway:
At night
comes doubt…
I listen out:
Not a trace
to be found;
space
swallows
sound.
— des Jun 27, 1:40pm # - Unsure
at night …
I hear
world’s flight,
world’s pause,
for space
erase-
s noise.
Sometimes you resort to slant rhymes…
— LNH Jun 27, 4:51pm # - uncertaintied,
at night
I heed
the flight
of all that’s taking place;
letting space
efface
the stampede.
— Jim Jun 28, 12:44am # - The best I can do as close to the literal as possible is;
We doubt
At night …
I listen:
Everything escapes,
Everything passes,
Space
Erases
The scrapes.
Noise is unwanted interference with your ability to understand that which is being transmitted, making you struggle to understand the transmission. Therefore, to escape the conundrum of finding a word meaning noise which rhymes with “flees”, I changed “flees” to “escapes” and used “scrapes” as the rhyming word, because of its noise associated meaning of “to draw roughly or noisily over a surface” and its struggle associated meaning of “to make one’s way with difficulty or succeed by a narrow margin”, both of which meanings are associated with your choice of fight, which I quite agree is appropriate. To me the meaning of the poem is that a reasonable time interval, a “space” of time spent not thinking of an irritating problem, can erase what presently appears to be a confused struggle and allow the subconcious to provide an answer. Sometimes a night’s respite from the struggle can accomplish just that.
A response to your last communication regarding natural restraints against injuring others has not been forgotten and will be forthcoming.
— Jack Lobaugh Jun 28, 3:29am # - je m’excuse: not enough french.
does everybody here know about
the astonishing leton_beau_de_marot_?
there’s a review at
http://www.forum2.org/tal/books/marot.html
for example.
the author’s translation of pushkin,
on the other hand, is pretty awful.
— vlorbik Jun 28, 7:49am # - my dribbles; for lemming that i am ;
without doubt
the night
without light
space
without face
sound
all around
lefted
deaf
with nose
to find
my rose
— dung beetle Jun 28, 2:29pm # - At night,
Spell-bound.
The world’s
Unwound,
It fades…
Let space
Erase
The sound.
— A. Jun 28, 4:34pm # - we doubt
at night…
all leaves
the sight,
all goes;
let space
erase
the noise
— krace Jun 28, 7:33pm # - Gordon Lightfoot translates Hugo:
In the early morning rain, with a dollar in my hand
And an aching in my heart, and my pockets full of sand
I’m a long way from home, and I miss my loved one so
In the early morning rain, with no place to go
and me the other one:
at night,
doubt.
I listen:
nothing.
all dissolves
in emptiness.
— eric Jun 29, 10:44pm # - Tomorrow at first light I will set out
Upon the road that leads to one who waits
Somewhere beyond this forest, these dark mountains.
Girl, I can no longer live without you.
— eric Jun 30, 6:51am # - We fear
The night…
I hear:
The flight,
The race;
As space
Doth chase
The trite.
— Hovig John Heghinian Jun 30, 2:51pm # - Unsettled
At night …
Listen:
Everything goes,
Everything passes;
The heavens
Swallow
Our voices.
— Jon Jul 1, 4:24pm # - Comes night,
comes doubt …
I listen:
footfalls
vanish
in the void.
— Cheryl Hiers Jul 1, 10:46pm # - at night,
wondering . . .
listening,
things dissolve,
evolve;
space
confounds
sound
— Carlos Jul 4, 9:27pm #
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