2. The Loch Ness Monster's Song
Sssnnnwhuffffll?
Hnwhuffl hhnnwfl hnfl hfl?
Gdroblboblhobngbl gbl gl g g g g glbgl.
Drublhaflablhaflubhafgabhaflhafl fl fl –
gm grawwwww grf grawf awfgm graw gm.
Hovoplodok – doplodovok – plovodokot-
doplodokosh?
Splgraw fok fok splgrafhatchgabrlgabrl fok splfok!
Zgra kra gka fok!
Grof grawff gahf?
Gombl mbl bl –
blm plm,
blm plm,
blm plm,
blp.
3. Ernst Jandl
ottos mops
ottos mops trotzt
otto: fort mops fort
ottos mops hopst fort
otto: soso
otto holt koks
otto holt obst
otto horcht
otto: mops mops
otto hofft
ottos mops klopft
otto: komm mops komm
ottos mops kommt
ottos mops kotzt
otto: ogottogott
5. tonton son cochon (Tonton's pig)
tonton son cochon affronte
tonton: dehors cochon dehors
tonton son cochon plonge
tonton: o o
tonton apporte coton
tonton apporte bonbons
tonton dors
tonton: cochon cochon
tonton fond
tonton son cochon cogne
tonton: bon cochon bon
tonton son cochon rapporte
tonton son cochon crotte
tonton: comme un cochon
Edith Werner
6. And the winner is . . .
fritz’s bitch
fritz’s bitch itches
fritz: quit bitch quit
fritz’s bitch quits it
fritz: nitwit
fritz picks chips
fritz picks dips
fritz listens
fritz: bitch bitch
fritz wishes
fritz’s bitch twitches
fritz: sit bitch sit
fritz’s bitch sits
fritz’s bitch is sick
fritz: shitshitshit
Brian Murdoch
Brian Murdoch teaches Modern Languages at the University of Stirling,
Scotland.
7. "There were four translations which tried to achieve a
balance between form and content, and all in a highly
individual manner. All four dare to express their own
readings parallel to the act of translation. Brian
Murdoch's translation does all of this and remains
truest to the original. What I liked particularly was that
the translations play very specifically with the nuances
of sounds and meaning in the English language."
8. Je hay du Florentin l'usurière avarice, I hate bloody Bankers and their bloated
Je hay du fol Siennois le sens mal arresté, paychecks,
Je hay du Genevois la rare vérité, I hate Union Leaders for their economic
Et du Vénitien la trop caute malice. botchery,
Our one-seventy plus quangos junketing and
Je hay le Ferrarais pour je ne sçay quel debauchery,
vice, But primarily Fianna fail, with its cute hoor
Je hay tous les Lombards pour l'infidélité, rednecks.
Le fier Napolitain pour sa grand vanité,
Et le poltron romain pour son peu I hate Catholic priests, I know well who dey
d'exercice. fecks,
I hate successive Taoisigh for what amounts to
Treachery,
Je hay l'Anglais mutin et le brave Ecossais,
Le traître Bourguignon et l'indiscret Government spin-doctery and economic doc-
François, witchery,
Le superbe Espaignol et l'yvrongne And Politicos’ dads for not wearing Durex.
Thudesque:
Bref, je hay quelque vice en chasque I hate sombreroed wetbacks; thonged, topless
nation, Brazilians,
Tiny turtle-headed Chinese, migrant Poles in
Je hay moymesme encor mon their zillions,
imperfection, The Oktoberfest Krauts, QuixDotty’s knight-
Mais je hay par sur tout un sçavoir errantry:
Anyway, I hate every vice of every nationality.
9. Joachim du Bellay
All nations have some fault
Regrets, no 68
I hate the Florentines’ usurious greed,
Je hay du Florentin l'usurière avarice, Siena’s galloping insanity,
Je hay du fol Siennois le sens mal arresté, the Genoese disingenuity,
Je hay du Genevois la rare vérité, Venice for malice and the dirty deed;
Et du Vénitien la trop caute malice.
I hate Ferrara for who knows what vice,
Je hay le Ferrarais pour je ne sçay quel the Lombards’ unreliability;
vice, Napolitano swank and vanity,
Je hay tous les Lombards pour l'infidélité, the shirking Roman’s lack of exercise;
Le fier Napolitain pour sa grand vanité,
Et le poltron romain pour son peu the cocky Englishman, the plucky Scot,
d'exercice. the Spanish snob and the Teutonic sot,
blundering French, perfidious Burgundy:
Je hay l'Anglais mutin et le brave Ecossais, nations have some fault that I abhor;
All
Le traître Bourguignon et l'indiscret
François, I hate my own imperfect self still more;
Le superbe Espaignol et l'yvrongne but what I hate the most is pedantry.
Thudesque:
Bref, je hay quelque vice en chasque Translated by Timothy Adès.
nation,
10. Joachim du Bellay
Regrets, no 68 All nations have some fault
Je hay du Florentin l'usurière avarice, I hate the Florentines’ usurious greed,
Je hay du fol Siennois le sens mal arresté, Siena’s galloping insanity,
Je hay du Genevois la rare vérité, the Genoese disingenuity,
Et du Vénitien la trop caute malice. Venice for malice and the dirty deed;
Je hay le Ferrarais pour je ne sçay quel I hate Ferrara for who knows what vice,
vice, the Lombards’ unreliability;
Je hay tous les Lombards pour l'infidélité, Napolitano swank and vanity,
Le fier Napolitain pour sa grand vanité, the shirking Roman’s lack of exercise;
Et le poltron romain pour son peu
d'exercice. the cocky Englishman, the plucky Scot,
the Spanish snob and the Teutonic sot,
Je hay l'Anglais mutin et le brave Ecossais, blundering French, perfidious Burgundy:
Le traître Bourguignon et l'indiscret All nations have some fault that I abhor;
François,
Le superbe Espaignol et l'yvrongne I hate my own imperfect self still more;
Thudesque: but what I hate the most is pedantry.
Bref, je hay quelque vice en chasque
nation, Translated by Timothy Adès.
11. Willis Barnstone, ‘An ABC of Translation’
See also Willis Barnstone, The Poetics of Translation, History, Theory, Practice,
Yale, 1993
12. ‘The poet, immersed in the movement of language, in
constant verbal preoccupation, chooses a few words- or is
chosen by them. As he combines them, he constructs his
poem: a verbal object made of irreplaceable and
immovable characters. The translator’s starting point is
not the language in movement that provides the poet’s
raw material but the fixed language of the poem. A
language congealed yet living. His process is the inverse of
the poet’s: he is not constructing an unalterable text from
mobile characters; instead, he is dismantling the elements
of the text, freeing the signs into circulation, then
returning them to language.’
13. ‘a liberationist view of translating, because
it never enters into the vexed question of
whether a translation is or is not an inferior
copy of an original. The task of the
translator is simply a different kind of
writerly task, and it follows on from the
primary task of reading.’
(Susan Bassnett on Paz in Constructing cultures: essays on
14. ‘We may. . .make two assertions: firstly,
that the translation of poetry requires skill
in reading every bit as much as skill in
writing. Secondly, that a poem is a text in
which content and form are inseparable.
Because they are inseparable, it ill behoves
any translator to try and argue that one or
15. '...What matters in the translation of poetry
is that the translator should be so drawn
into the poem that he or she then seeks to
transpose it creatively, through the pleasure
generated by reading.'
16. ‘An energy is released. So let us follow
where it leads. If a work does not compel
us, it is untranslatable.’
– Yves Bonnefoy, Translating Poetry
17. understanding: close analysis of source
interpretation: item by item source and target
creation: making the TL artifact
18. Ze wacht She waits
Ze wacht met oude thee en oude handen, She waits with old tea and old hands,
ik hou van haar, maar zonder veel I love her, but without much
dorst en heimwee. Liefde is het einde thirst and longing. Love is the end
van een zachte dag, alleen de rode of a soft day, only the red
lucht blijft over, de zon is onder. Ze sky remains, the sun has set. She
wacht en met de schemer komt de kat. waits and as dusk falls the cat comes.
Hij duwt zijn koude rug tegen haar He presses his cold back against her
handen, hands,
niet om haar, maar om zijn vacht. not because of her, but for his fur.
Rutger Kopland
19. Ze wacht She waits
Ze wacht met oude thee en oude handen, She waits with cooling tea and ageing
ik hou van haar, maar zonder veel hands,
I love her, yes, but not with much
dorst en heimwee. Liefde is het einde
van een zachte dag, alleen de rode thirst or longing. Love is the end
of a quiet day, only the red in the sky
lucht blijft over, de zon is onder. Ze
wacht en met de schemer komt de kat. remains, the sun has set. She waits
and with the twilight comes the cat.
Hij duwt zijn koude rug tegen haar
handen, He thrusts his chilly back against her
niet om haar, maar om zijn vacht. hands,
not for her sake, but for his fur’s.
Rutger Kopland
Translated by James Brockway
20. Ze wacht She waits
Ze wacht met oude thee en oude handen, She waits with cooling tea and ageing hands,
ik hou van haar, maar zonder veel I love her, yes, but not with much
dorst en heimwee. Liefde is het einde thirst or longing. Love is the end
van een zachte dag, alleen de rode of a quiet day, only the red in the sky
lucht blijft over, de zon is onder. Ze remains, the sun has set. She waits
wacht en met de schemer komt de kat. and with the twilight comes the cat.
Hij duwt zijn koude rug tegen haar handen, He thrusts his chilly back against her hands,
niet om haar, maar om zijn vacht. not for her sake, but for his fur’s.
Rutger Kopland Translated by James Brockway
21. ‘Translating Kopland’s poetry into English has become
a habit for me and is not as easy or as difficult as it
may seem, provided one remembers to pay close
attention to cadence and never to attempt to stray off
on one’s own. It is a poetry utterly devoid of rhetoric,
which poses questions without supplying answers, as
Kopland believes poetry must do. Unless, of course,
the reader discovers those answers in the course of his
reading. It is a poetry that has always been written in a
simple language that is not simple at all, but often
leaves one guessing. A Kopland poem is instantly
recognizable as a Kopland poem. It is international,
Dutch and English at the same time, and even when
anecdotal, universal in its themes. Gradually, as the
work has progressed over the years, a bond has grown
between the two of us which has become a source of
spiritual riches and which has enriched my life.’
22. Tiris
Si llegas alguna vez
a una tierra lisa y blanca
acompañada de inmensas estatuas negras
y el andar pasivo de camellos y beduinos,
recuerda que existe una tierra sin amo y sin dueño
espejo y alma de todo ser inocente.
23. Literal version
Tiris Tiris
Si llegas alguna vez If you ever arrive
a una tierra lisa y blanca to a white and wide land
acompañada de inmensas estatuas coupled with immense black statues
negras and the passive pace of camels and
y el andar pasivo de camellos y beduinos, Bedouins,
recuerda que existe una tierra sin amo y remember that there exists a land
sin dueño without
espejo y alma de todo ser inocente. master and
without owner,
Ali Salem Iselmu mirror and soul of all innocent beings.
Translation by Lucy Frankel and Antonio
24. Literal version Final Translation
Tiris Tiris
If you ever arrive If you ever come
to a white and wide land to a wide, white land
coupled with immense black statues dotted with towering black statues
and the passive pace of camels and crossed by the slow tracks of camels and
Bedouins, Bedouin ―
remember that there exists a land remember there exists a land with no
without master
master and and no owner,
without owner, the mirror and the soul of all innocent
mirror and soul of all innocent beings. people.
Translation by Lucy Frankel and Antonio
Translation By: Sarah Maguire
Martínez Arboleda.
25. ‘The translation process has three stages. First we look at the
original poem: even if most of us can’t understand a word, it’s
always important to hear its music, and to look at how the poet
has placed it on the page. Secondly, the language expert
produces a literal translation that’s as close to the original as
possible. And finally, there’s the long and detailed negotiation
that ends with the translated poem.
The workshops begin with a language expert introducing us to
the original poem, reading it aloud and explaining its cultural
context. Next we look at the literal translation of the poem
they've produced for us; this usually sounds very awkward in
English since the idea is for it to be as close as possible to the
original text.
Our aim in the workshops is to transform this into a new poem in
English. Arriving at the translated poem involves deploying all the
26. Translating a Chinese Poem
See e.g. Ezra Pound, Cathay
Arthur Waley,
Wai-lim Yip,
Eliot Weinberger, ed, The New Directions Anthology of Classical
Chinese Poetry,
The Selected Poems of Po Chi-i, translated by David Hinton
Sunflower Splendor, Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry,
edited by Wu-chi Liu and Irving Yucheng Lo, Indiana University
Press, 1974
29. lǐ bái
李白Name of the poet who lived from 701AD to 762
李白
AD
zì qiǎn
自遣 自遣 Name of the poem
zì zì
对酒不觉暝， 自 reflexive pronoun; myself. In Chinese 自 can act
落花盈我衣。 as a subject, such as I, but contains the meaning of
myself.
醉起步溪月， qiǎn
鸟还人亦稀。 遣 intransitive verb in this sentence, amuse,kill time,
have some fun
30. duì jiǔ bù jué mínɡ
对酒不觉暝
李白
duì
对 verb, literally means face toward, confront. In this
自遣 sentence, the meaning should be having, drinking
jiǔ
对酒不觉暝， 酒 noun, wine, any beverage with alcohol
落花盈我衣。 bù
不 negative word, not
醉起步溪月，
jué
鸟还人亦稀。 觉 verb, be aware of
mínɡ
暝 noun, dusk
31. luò huā yínɡ wǒ yī
落花盈我衣
李白
luò
落 verb, fall
自遣
huā
花 noun,flower
对酒不觉暝，
yínɡ
落花盈我衣。
盈 verb,be full of, be filled with
醉起步溪月，
wǒ
鸟还人亦稀。 我 personal pronoun, I
yī
衣 noun, upper garment, top
32. zuì qǐ bù xī yuè
李白 醉起步溪月
zuì
自遣 醉 adjective, drunk
[唐]李白 qǐ
起 verb, stand up
对酒不觉暝，
bù
落花盈我衣。 步 verb, take a walk, go for a walk
醉起步溪月， xī
鸟还人亦稀。 溪 noun, water steams, brook
yuè
月 noun, moon
33. niǎo yuǎn rén yì xī
李白 鸟远人亦稀
niǎo
自遣 鸟 noun,bird
yuǎn
[唐]李白 远 adjective, be far away from, be
对酒不觉暝， distant rén
人 noun, people
落花盈我衣。
yì
醉起步溪月，
亦 adverb, also, too
鸟还人亦稀。
xī
稀 adjective, few, rare
34. 李白
自遣
对酒不觉暝， Face wine not aware get dark
Fall flower fill my clothes
落花盈我衣。 Drunk stand step stream moon
Bird far person also few
醉起步溪月，
鸟还人亦稀。
35. 李白
自遣 Face wine not aware get dark
Fall flower fill my clothes
Drunk stand step stream moon
Bird far person also few
对酒不觉暝，
落花盈我衣。 Facing my wine, I did not see the dusk,
Falling blossoms have filled the folds of my clothes.
Drunk, I rise and approach the moon in the stream,
醉起步溪月， Birds are far off, people too are few.
鸟还人亦稀。
36. Enjoying the time by myself
李白
Spending some time by myself wine-tasting
Sunset reminds me time goes by in a blink of an eye
自遣 When I tipsily get up to go for a walk
I realized flower petals have decorated my top with
the color of nature
After reaching the brook
对酒不觉暝， Only the reflection of the moon is my company
All the birds have returned to their nests
落花盈我衣。 Hardly anyone could be seen
Translated by Xiaoyu Wen
醉起步溪月，
鸟还人亦稀。
37. To Amuse Myself
Drinking alone with knowing the coming of dusk,
李白 I discover my robe covered with falling petals.
Drunk, I rise to walk along the moonlit creek –
The birds have gone and few are the people around.
自遣 Tr. Joseph J. Lee (Sunflower Splendor, Three Thousand
Years of Chinese Poetry)
对酒不觉暝，
SELF-ABANDONMENT
落花盈我衣。
I sat drinking and did not notice the dusk,
Till falling petals filled the folds of my dress.
醉起步溪月， Drunken I rose and walked to the moonlit stream;
The birds were gone, and men also few.
鸟还人亦稀。
(Arthur Waley)
38. Li Po in 1909 (L Cranmer-Byng)
And now Spring beckons with verdant hand,
And Nature’s wealth of eloquence doth win
Forth to the fragrant-bowered nectarine,
Where my dear friends abide, a careless band.
then comes Ezra Pound, Cathay, 1915,
39. ‘. . . classical Chinese poetry was only successfully translated into
English when the translators were willing to set aside the rhymes and
meters of traditional English verse, as well as Western concepts of what
constitutes poetic diction and subject matter, and create a freer form
that would permit the power and expressiveness of the originals to shine
through.’
Burton Watson, Introduction to Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry,
pp12/13
40. Reaction to Pound
Wi-lim Yip, in Ezra Pound's Cathay, admitted
‘One can easily excommunicate Pound from the Forbidden City of
Chinese studies’
yet Pound conveyed ‘the central concerns of the original author" and
that no other translation “has assumed so interesting and unique a
position as Cathay in the history of English translations of Chinese
poetry.”
In The Pound Era, Hugh Kenner pointed out that Cathay was an
interpretation as much as a translation; the "poems paraphrase an
elegiac war poetry.... among the most durable of all poetic responses to
World War I."
Perhaps the clearest assessment of Pound's achievement was made at
the time by T. S. Eliot in his introduction to Pound’s Selected Poems; he
called Pound ‘the inventor of Chinese poetry for our time’ and predicted
that Cathay would be called a ‘magnificent specimen of twentieth-
century poetry’ rather than a translation.
41. Li Po/Li Bai
A Letter
To Send Far Away
My love,
So much beauty home–flowers filled the
When you were here there was
house.
a hall of flowers.
So much beauty gone–nothing but the
When you are gone there is
empty bed,
an empty bed.
Under the embroidered coverlet
your embroidered quilt rolled up, never
I toss and turn.
used.
After three years I
It’s been three years. Your scent still
smell your fragrance.
lingers,
Your fragrance never leaves,
But you never return.
your scent gone and yet never ending.
I think of you, the yellow leaves are
But now you’re gone, never to return,
ended
And the white dew dampens the green
thoughts of you yellow leaves falling,
moss.
white dew glistening on green moss.
Translated by William Carlos Williams
Translated by David Hinton
42. Wang Wei, ‘Deer enclosure’
空山不見人 Empty hills, no one in sight,
但聞人語響 only the sound of someone talking;
返景入深林 late sunlight enters the deep wood,
復照青苔上 shining over the green moss again.
43. 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
44. Now for Peter Boodberg’s version, which Weinberger likens to “Gerard
Manley Hopkins on LSD”:
The empty mountain: to see no men,
Barely earminded of men talking – countertones,
And antistrophic lights – and – shadows incoming deeper the deep-treed
grove
Once more to glowlight the blue-green mosses – going up (the empty
mountain…)
(Eliot Weinberger, Nineteen ways of looking at Wang Wei: how a Chinese
poem is translated, 1987)
