Translating poetry

Le Visage Perdu

Last week I found myself contemplating a short poem by Yolaine Maillet and attempting to translate it from French to English for Spontaneity.org in collaboration with poet Eleanor Hooker and writer/editor Ruth McKee.

Read the concept behind Spontaneity here.

We spent a few days pinging suggestions back and forth, translating the words but losing or changing the meaning, paraphrasing, but losing the poetry of the original. It felt exciting to be part of a project like this.

"Translation is like a women: if she is faithful, she is not beautiful; if she is beautiful, she is not faithful." Russian Proverb.

 

We ended up with about ten different versions, none saying quite the same thing. We consulted the poet to try to gauge what she really meant, why she chose certain words. Finally we agreed on a version that captured the intended meaning and stuck as close to the language of the original as possible. Then we decided that it would be a nice touch to add an audio version of the poem. See the poem, the translation and the audio version here.


 "When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less." Lewis Carroll.

Le requin marteau et les jours de la semaine

Le requin marteau et les jours de la semaine - Martin

My nine-year-old son came home from school last week begging to be brought to hear David Dumortier reading poetry in the library that evening. He's not usually a bookish kid--more an outdoorsy type--so I was rather surprised. He went on to explain that David had been to his school that afternoon and had performed magic tricks. Aha! He wanted to see a magician, not a poet.

David is a fantastic entertainer. Reciting poetry, embedded in magic tricks, he made the kids laugh. One child was brought to the stage to learn how to do nothing. David had invented a machine to help him. The kid sat winding a handle on a toy that did nothing. Every time he stopped he was prodded to 'keep it up, do nothing' and he had to wind again.

Meanwhile a child helped carry a magician's hat around the audience and David pulled out lines of poetry, read them and threw them into the air. My son grappled with the rest of the kids to grab as many as he could.

It was a great performance. He's a great speaker. He also managed to sell a few books. But, as a writer, I'm depressed at the idea of having to do a similar performance to sell my work. These days it seems that writing the book is only part of the deal. Engaging with the public to persuade them to buy it is a huge part of the writer's job. But what do you do if you're not naturally a magician or entertainer?

The outcome for my nine-year-old: He begged if he could write a poem before bed. I agreed (bemused, amazed). He produced the above poem. He announced that it was 'full of originality' (Then he checked what originality means.) Still, I'd call that a result!