Two of my favorite books are translations. I mean sometimes you doubt whether you like the translation or just the book. Or vice versa. What excites me are the stories, games, intentions. Feelings. And those were in the original. Translation are the only words that serve vehicle and little else. In some ways the relationship between act and translation is similar to that between feelings and writing.
Translate manuals and books of medicine is a complicated task but mechanical (in fact it can be funny, we all know). Instead translating literature is itself an art: to create a world equal to the world that I think someone else to condense feelings and stories. In any case sometimes the translation is less important than people think. Unless major errors or omissions in the end one captures the essence. It is true that one translated poetry often loses the original rate. Of young during the day on a train that took me by Poland was Leningrad gave me translate some poems of Baudelaire maintaining its rhythm, rhyme and style, was like a puzzle. From memory I remember that just a couple of verses, which always excited me:
comes the time when vibrating on its stem Each flower evaporatesinciensiario Finally, the two books that speak are, I know all my friends, Ada or Ardor and Rubayyat .
as a
Translations of Rubayyat given for an entire novel. In truth the work of Omar Kayye hardly be known not for Edward Fitzgerald. This man was an important nineteenth-century Irish poet. Since to study classical Persian poetry, was impressed with this work and made the first known translation, published in 1857. Directly from Persian into English. Not achieved very well know what Fitzgerald had knowledge of Persian (English historiography in the nineteenth century the British one would say, as Richard Burton, learned the Oriental languages \u200b\u200bat the moment of stepping on those lands). It seems that no stops too and must have a black (a Persian, really) in between. Perhaps because of that, some argue that "your work more than an ordinary translation, was marked by a strong inspiration that led to an interpretation of the poetry of Khayyam; coming to be regarded as a translation by some critics after an English poem with Persian allusions. "Indeed what this guy did was to rebuild the Persian verses someone literally translated quatrains much longer than the original, self-paced English . In Khayya (Jayam have to write in English, as they say instead of Khomeini Khomeini, but at this point looks weird) was the air, the mystique of women, the moon and living with joy. This translation go unnoticed but its reissue in 1868 became a worldwide classic Anglo-Saxon.
Shortly after the expert in oriental languages \u200b\u200band secretary-interpreter of the French consulate in the Near East, JB Nicolas (often falsely attributed the title of consul, which sounds more romantic and best evokes the spirit of the route Oaxana) decided to make a new translation. This time the French, without rhyme or rhythm and back to black in between. In this translation attempts to explain, rather than reproduce the sensations of the original quartet. Text is often allegorical and symbolic moves away from the aesthetics of Khayyam. Above all, French-loosely, "added the hundreds of original quartet (actually the reference includes 250 manuscripts, but Hence more than half are not yours) three hundred apocryphal circulating in Persia. this translation is accused (his fault, and made to explain things) to forget the poet's libertine side (bad thing for a Frenchman) and search for mystical esoteric meanings to their simple graphics. Since then there have been supporters of the Irish and French. That is like being pro-free translation that tries to mimic the feel of the original, the translation or explanation. two extreme ends. Among those supporting the creative version stands out in English, of course, Jorge Luis Borges. Borges, enthusiastic about the work of Irish, even said Omar's soul took up residence Fitzgerald's soul. There
start the English translations ... and confusion. There are at least thirty different translations . Often cited as the first translation of Borges ... but it is not the illustrious Jorge Luis, but his father Jorge Guillermo , who first happened to the child a taste for Irish poetry and translations. The fact is that Argentine versions in Castilian Irish verses. The distance from the original poet was growing.
However some argue that this was the first translation. In the preface to a Latin American version erudite references to a meeting Fist of them:
"The Borges was, at least the third. The first translation appeared in 1907, unsigned, published in Madrid by Renaissance Magazine. The second, by Carlos Sáenz Peña Muzio foreword by Alvaro Melian Lafinur (reproduced in Us XIII.59, March 1914, pp. 225-232), came out 1914 in Buenos Aires (MF2 298). In 1922, appears in the magazine Prism, Rafael Lozano (Paris / Barcelona) a notice of the Editorial Cervantes, Barcelona, \u200b\u200bwhich promotes a series of "The best poetry (lyrics) of the best poets," including "Omar Kayyam." A "translation directly from the Persian "was published by Ventura García Calderón editorial The Convivio, San Jose, Costa Rica, in 1925 (We are 49, 191, 04/25, 519). Next year is the Rubaiyat (a cordes Quatuor), "seven fantasies for string quartet," Adolfo Salazar (Max score Eschig printed in Paris, 1926, cover Salvador Dali). There were also several later versions, including the posthumous Joaquín V. González (1927). "
I did not know there were so many, even though almost all are translations of the verses Castilian and English, without putting your eye to the original Persian. In my time I know of only four (and is looking of Clara Janes in Trotta, but I do not buy it). There is one that was the first I read, which is a collection of such RBA superbarata selling kiosks in the pages of bad paper that turns yellow in two days. The best thing about this translation is that it is the same as that found shrimp (or Kiko Veneno, or friends) and was the one used, with minimal changes to the Legend of Time. . In another collection cheap, cloned from the above, I found the version of Ramón Hervás, clumsy, unmusical and boring. Later old at a flea market I bought a decent edition version Joaquín V. Gonzalez, Irish directly into Castilian. Hyperion has recently published the latest "definitive translation" made by Zara Behnam and Jesus Munarriz and text contained in Persian. Because it will be very accurate, but excited little or nothing (which is sometimes loyalty).
face of it, I doubt that Ada or Ardor can be a definitive translation, and not make himself Vladimir Nabokov, translated into English as the Eugene Onegin, Pushkin, which is perhaps the best translation ever made book. Of course, that it helps enough to be one of the best writers ever in both the original language and in translation. So anybody.
In any case one can only pity the poor translator Ada. Or envy him having to get to live in this complex world. Nabokov took ten years to build the novel, from what began as two different books, and published a week after his seventieth birthday. The French translation took just five years, of which the last six months were devoted to Nabokov and his wife, Vera (who always gave her all the books), heavily revised version. This makes it easier, but is famous discussion between discussion between Nabokov and his French translator, that lack of comprehensive scientific accuracy of Vladimir, he wrote "walnut" instead of "hickory" when referring to a tree. Finally, the difficulty of Ada is its beauty. It is a complex story, imitating the great Russian sagas, and delicious. It is especially sweet the entire first half, adolescents with poachers and spontaneous love flowing in this lost world that is Ardis. But beyond the story and characters the book is primarily a parody of many parodies. There is a website dedicated to bind to all those works alluded recognized literary or parodied in Ada and the truth is that it collects more than fifty short stays. And among these parodies, Ada itself devotes part of his life to translating the fictional John Shade. Here the novel was translated by the Catalan to Castilian, and what the audacious Jordi Arbonés account gives an idea of \u200b\u200bthe ordeal he suffered. The famous Catalan translator Ada says that for him was pure torture, as he promised never to ever translate Nabokov. The English translation appeared in 1976 signed by David Molinet, a pseudonym used in reality Juan Carlos García-Blur known Catalan philosopher and intellectual who was a man seriously and methodical, he remembered, for this very reason the more intimate Nabokov.
The complexity of the translation of Ada be understood if one takes into account that in the first edition was accompanied by a volume of critical notes on the novel developed by ... Nabokov himself (under an obvious pseudonym.) William Boyd, who has dedicated his life to Nabokov and has published two volumes of his definitive biography (one of them I had to do a review for a literary magazine for years) is such a fan of Ada that is still trying to understand the work in detail and maintains a web page that is entirely and meticulously annotated. Recently, Erik Orsenna has published a book (two summers), whose main argument is the story of a boy who tries to translate into French Ada and need to have it delivered an entire people in body and soul to the task of searching data definition and words. Anyway, as an attempt to be informed about the translations and original books to the final again be what they were when they were written. It decostruyen to pass the role and re-build when you end up being like a feeling that one day he got into a kind Plover and that this had to try to spread through the letters.
One of the famous painted in May 1968 said "speaking of love is to destroy love ". What happens is that to do graffiti type had no choice but to write the word love, so I fell into his own trap. It is what it is. 
0 comments:
Post a Comment