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I have translated some poetry into English, and have felt fully the rather inevitable disappointment of rendering a line of limpid beauty into my own clunky music. One tries, and there is enormous pleasure in the trying, but the fruit of such efforts is always bruised. The curse of translation is that at its best it can only be adequate–and yet my dependence on translators for much of the literature that I love has made me not merely grateful for adequacy but convinced that adequacy in translation is itself a kind of beauty, a worthy target for the striving.
Consider the remarkable Susanna Nied, upon whom I depend for reports from Denmark. I know and love her translations of the (just recently passed) poet Inger Christensen. That I came to them at all is as a result of New Directions Publishing, which insists on bringing notable international voices into American bookstores whether they become famous afterwards (W.G. Sebald) or not (Christensen).
Alphabet is the book I would suggest to start your Christensen habit. A poem that travels the same imaginary continent as T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, Christensen’s Alphabet is the most interesting long poem of recent years. Formally rigorous and lyrically rich, the poem proceeds via incantation to catalog the entirety of the living planet in 77 pages. Never has a list been so lovely or strange, and rarely is repetition used in poetry to such decidedly melancholy effect. I would love to hear it read in Danish, but to read Nied’s completely convincing English rendering is never to doubt that Alphabet is a poem. That it transubstantiates its source into different and seemingly truthful music should be a goad to anyone who translates, writes, reads.
From the poem’s part 11:
love exists, love exists
your hand a baby bird so obliviously tucked
into mine, and death impossible to remember,
impossible to remember how inalienable
life, as easily as chemicals drifting
over the knotgrass and rock doves, all of it
is lost, vanishing, impossible to remember that
there and there flocks of rootless
people, livestock, dogs exist, are vanishing…
More from Wyatt Mason:
Conversation — October 2, 2015, 8:26 am
“By committing to the great emotional extremes demanded by Greek tragedy,” says Bryan Doerries, author of The Theater of War, “the actors are in effect saying to the audience: ‘If you want to match our emotional intensity, that would be fine.’”
Freddie Gray’s relatives arrived for the trial in the afternoon, after the prep-school kids had left. By their dress, they seemed to have just gotten off work in the medical and clerical fields. The family did not appear at ease in the courtroom. They winced and dropped their heads as William Porter and his fellow officer Zachary Novak testified to opening the doors of their police van last April and finding Freddie paralyzed, unresponsive, with mucus pooling at his mouth and nose. Four women and one man mournfully listened as the officers described needing to get gloves before they could touch him.
The first of six Baltimore police officers to be brought before the court for their treatment of Freddie Gray, a black twenty-five-year-old whose death in their custody was the immediate cause of the city’s uprising last spring, William Porter is young, black, and on trial. Here in this courtroom, in this city, in this nation, race and the future seem so intertwined as to be the same thing.
Number of Turkish college students detained in the last year for requesting Kurdish-language classes:
Turkey was funding a search for Suleiman the Magnificent’s heart.
A former prison in Philadelphia that has served as a horror-movie set was being prepared as a detention center for protesters arrested at the upcoming Democratic National Convention, and presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump fired his campaign manager.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”