{"id":106,"date":"2016-09-22T14:09:45","date_gmt":"2016-09-22T22:09:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.annhuang.com\/blog\/?p=106"},"modified":"2017-12-11T11:44:08","modified_gmt":"2017-12-11T19:44:08","slug":"translated-poems-adopted-as-originals-in-their-target-culture","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/2016\/09\/22\/translated-poems-adopted-as-originals-in-their-target-culture\/","title":{"rendered":"Translations That Get Adopted as Originals in Their Target Culture"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"dictionary<\/a><\/p>\n

Neruda once declared, \u201cNothing remains except that which was written with blood to be listened to by blood.\u201d Neruda trusts and celebrates his senses and inextricably links his experiences, quite specifically, to the natural world he loves: to the damp forests of southern Chile; to the thick, gnarled roots of the pines deeply penetrating the earth; to the lonely rains that occluded the sun and cast the world through its fine veils; to the roiling rivers and seas that brought renewal and hope and, sometimes, destruction. For Neruda, this tightly woven web of nature symbolism became a grid through which he could begin to make sense of his life, to explore both the spiritual and physical worlds. For him, it was a continuous geography.<\/p>\n

He spoke to the Chilean people of their mountains and trees, of their rivers and nocturnal flowers, of their dreams. Neruda held up a mirror in which Chileans could view themselves and be pleased. Reading Neruda, they could feel a common identity beyond their separate lives, landmarks, and scents they could call their own.<\/p>\n

Several artistic and literary movements emerged that reflected the social and philosophical crises of the times: cubism, futurism, Dadaism, ultraism, creationism, modernism, and in the same year that Neruda published Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair<\/em>, the explosion of surrealism.<\/p>\n

With their gorgeous sweep and intimacy, their sensuality and rhapsody, and their \u201csecret revelations of nature,\u201d Neruda\u2019s poems also made me want to reclaim Spanish, the language of my teenage years. It is not an exaggeration to say that they helped me to discover who I was what I was meant to do. How I sang these poems aloud, again and again, in Spanish and in English, for the pure joy of hearing them on my tongue, for the imagery they conjured up and the longings they roused.<\/p>\n

Neruda\u2019s poetry challenged readers to less static lives, lives susceptible to transformation, like nature itself.\u00a0He talks about Chilean earth, the country, more so in a subconscious state to illustrate to his countrymen the country\u2019s beauty as opposed to the physical beauty of a woman. There is this raw sense of patriotism, natural, imperative and inherent. It shows the political climate at the time in Chile, whilst the people in Chile despise their government in comparison to the sense of darkness of the night. Neruda\u2019s poetics are more indirect in showing the pain and they are whimsical and charming combined with melancholy.<\/p>\n

Merwin\u2019s translation evokes more the inclusive experience of an individual, more on a conscious level (of choices and of knowing), a man\u2019s perception on his woman\u2019s physical and spiritual beauty. His translation of Neruda\u2019s poems is solemn and straightforward.<\/p>\n

Below are four Spanish-English original translation comparison examples of Pablo Neruda’s poems, translated by W.S Merwin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

SIEMPRE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Antes<\/u><\/em> de m\u00ed
\nno tengo celos.<\/p>\n

Ven con un hombre
\na la espalda,
\nven con cien hombres en tu cabellera,
\nven con mil hombres entre tu pecho y tus pies,
\nven como un r\u00edo lleno de ahogados
\nque encuentra el mar furioso,
\nla espuma eterna, el tiempo.<\/p>\n

Tr\u00e1elos todos
\nadonde yo te espero:
\nsiempre estaremos solos,
\nsiempre estaremos t\u00fa y yo
\nsolos sobre la tierra
\npara comenzar la vida.<\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda.<\/em><\/td>\n

\n

ALWAYS<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am not jealous
\nof what came before<\/u><\/em> me. [1]<\/p>\n

Come with a man
\non your shoulders,
\ncome with a hundred men in your hair,
\ncome with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,<\/p>\n

come like a river
\nfull of drowned men
\nwhich flows down to the wild sea,
\nto the eternal surf, to Time!
\nBring them all
\nto where I am waiting for you;
\nwe shall always be alone,
\nwe shall always be you and I
\nalone on earth,
\nto start our life!<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

[1] I always understood before<\/em><\/strong> as a true temporal adverb but curiously there are other English translations appear to be \u201c\u2026facing<\/em><\/strong> you, I’m not jealous..\u201d<\/em>. I’m not saying that they are not consistent texts, only wonder about the accuracy of the temporary nature of the word before<\/em><\/strong> as the potential meaning for the poet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

CUERPO DE MUJER<\/strong><\/p>\n

Cuerpo de mujer, blancas colinas, muslos blancos,<\/p>\n

te pareces al mundo en tu actitud de entrega<\/u><\/em>.
\nMi cuerpo de labriego salvaje te socava
\ny hace saltar el hijo del fondo de la tierra.<\/p>\n

Fui solo como un t\u00fanel. De m\u00ed hu\u00edan los p\u00e1jaros
\ny en m\u00ed la noche entraba su invasi\u00f3n poderosa<\/u><\/em>.
\nPara sobrevivirme te forj\u00e9 como un arma,
\ncomo una flecha en mi arco, como una piedra en mi honda.<\/p>\n

Pero cae la hora de la venganza, y te amo.
\nCuerpo de piel, de musgo, de leche \u00e1vida y firme.
\nAh los vasos del pecho! Ah los ojos de ausencia!
\nAh las rosas del pubis! Ah tu voz lenta y triste!<\/p>\n

Cuerpo de mujer m\u00eda, persistir\u00e9 en tu gracia.
\nMi sed, mi ansia sin l\u00edmite, mi camino indeciso<\/u><\/em>!
\nOscuros cauces donde la sed eterna sigue,
\ny la fatiga sigue, y el dolor infinito.<\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda.<\/em>
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/td>\n

\n

BODY OF A WOMAN<\/strong><\/p>\n

Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,<\/p>\n

you look like a world, lying<\/u><\/em> in surrender<\/u><\/em>.[2]
\nMy rough peasant’s body digs in you
\nand makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.<\/p>\n

I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
\nand night swamped me with its crushing invasion<\/u><\/em>.[3]
\nTo survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
\nlike an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.<\/p>\n

But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
\nBody of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
\nOh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
\nOh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!<\/p>\n

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
\nMy thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road<\/u><\/em>![4]
\nDark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
\nand weariness follows, and the infinite ache.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

[2] Merwin\u2019s translation is quite powerful and literary, compared to other popular versions that are more conscious-driven and literal in your attitude of giving<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n

[3] Here Merwin\u2019s translation exceeds again over other popular translations by focusing on \u201c\u2026 en mi\u2026\u201d hence, the night<\/em> became an active role. The other popular translation would be \u201cI was invaded by the power of the night.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

[4] Shifting road<\/em><\/strong> on top of boundless desire<\/em><\/strong> is complementing, much stronger than \u201cmy infinite anguish, my indecisive path\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/strong>even though this is less close as a translation version, it is closer to what Neruda meant originally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

INCLINADO EN LAS TARDES<\/strong><\/p>\n

Inclinado en las tardes tiro mis tristes redes
\na tus ojos oce\u00e1nicos.<\/p>\n

All\u00ed se estira y arde en la mas alta hoguera
\nmi soledad que da vueltas los brazos como un naufrago.<\/p>\n

Hago rojas se\u00f1ales sobre<\/em> tus ojos ausentes
\nque olean<\/em> como el mar a la orilla de un faro.<\/p>\n

Solo guardas tinieblas, hembra distante y m\u00eda,
\nde tu mirada emerge a veces la costa del espanto.<\/p>\n

Inclinado en las tardes echo mis tristes redes
\na ese mar que sacude tus ojos oce\u00e1nicos.<\/p>\n

Los p\u00e1jaros nocturnos picotean las primeras estrellas
\nque centellean como mi alma cuando te amo.<\/p>\n

Galopa la noche en su <\/em>yegua sombr\u00eda<\/a>
\ndesparramando espigas azules sobre el campo.<\/a><\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda.<\/em><\/td>\n

\n

LEANING INTO THE AFTERNOONS<\/strong><\/p>\n

Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
\ntowards your oceanic eyes.<\/p>\n

There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens \u00a0and flames,
\nits arms turning like a drowning man’s.<\/p>\n

I send out red signals across<\/u><\/em> your absent eyes[5]
\nthat move<\/u><\/em> like the sea near a lighthouse.[6]<\/p>\n

You keep only darkness, my distant female,
\nfrom your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.<\/p>\n

Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
\nto that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.<\/p>\n

The birds of night peck at the first stars
\nthat flash like my soul when I love you.<\/p>\n

The night gallops on its<\/u><\/em> shadowy mare[7]
\nshedding blue tassels over the land.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

[5] Other popular translations use the word \u201cover\u201d<\/em> <\/strong>to hinder \u201csobre\u201d<\/em><\/strong> instead of \u201cacross.\u201d<\/em><\/strong> It\u2019s interesting to see the different perspective from Merwin\u2019s translation, so the protagonist is sending red signals TO her instead of ABOVE her, which connects well to Neruda\u2019s political inferences the next line.<\/p>\n

[6] \u201cSmell\u201d<\/em><\/strong> would be a typical choice for \u201colean.\u201d<\/em><\/strong> However, \u201cmove\u201d<\/em><\/strong> is the more sensible option. This way, the protagonist becomes the sea or the people of Chile, and the lighthouse has transformed to be the government that needed enlightenment. Here, Merwin\u2019s translation makes a big leap from personal yearnings to state-level affairs.<\/p>\n

[7] The choice \u201cits\u201d<\/em> <\/strong>for \u201csu\u201d<\/em> <\/strong>instead of \u201cher\u201d<\/em><\/strong> does reinforce the political interpretative layer linking to [6].<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

ME GUSTAS CUANDO CALLAS<\/strong><\/p>\n

Me gustas cuando callas<\/u><\/em> porque estas como ausente,
\ny me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
\nParece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
\ny parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.<\/p>\n

Como todas las cosas estan llenas de mi alma
\nemerges de las cosas, llena del alma mia.
\nMariposa de sueno, te pareces a mi alma,
\ny te pareces a la palabra melancolia.<\/p>\n

Me gustas cuando callas y estas como distante.
\nY estas como quejandote, mariposa en arrullo<\/u><\/em>.
\nY me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
\ndejame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.<\/p>\n

Dejame que te hable tambien con tu silencio
\nclaro como una lampara<\/em><\/strong>, simple como un anillo.
\nEres como la noche, callada y constelada.
\nTu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.<\/p>\n

Me gustas cuando callas porque estas como ausente.
\nDistante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
\nUna palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
\nY estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.<\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda.<\/em><\/td>\n

\n

I LIKE FOR YOU TO BE STILL<\/strong><\/p>\n

I like for you to be still<\/u><\/em>: because it is as though you were absent, [8]
\nand you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
\nIt seems as though your eyes had flown away
\nand it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.<\/p>\n

As all things are filled with my soul
\nyou emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
\nYou are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
\nand you are like the word Melancholy.<\/p>\n

I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
\nIt sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove<\/u><\/em>. [9]
\nAnd you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
\nLet me come to be still in your silence.<\/p>\n

And let me talk to you with your silence
\nthat is bright as a lamp<\/em><\/strong>, simple as a ring. [10]
\nYou are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
\nYour silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.<\/p>\n

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
\ndistant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
\nOne word then, one smile, is enough.
\nAnd I am happy, happy that it\u2019s not true.<\/p>\n

 <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

[8] A better translation for this line should be \u201cI like you when you are quiet,\u201d<\/em><\/strong> in the sense that stillness<\/em><\/strong> is not enough, quietness<\/em><\/strong> on both physical movement and speaking terms would be.<\/p>\n

[9] Here I\u2019d translate to \u201ca butterfly in lullaby\u201d <\/em><\/strong>for \u201cmariposa en arrullo.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

[10] I\u2019d like the word \u201cclear\u201d<\/em><\/strong> for \u201cclaro\u201d<\/em><\/strong> here because of the narrator\u2019s unblemished reasons, not in reference to the light intensity.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Neruda once declared, \u201cNothing remains except that which was written with blood to be listened to by blood.\u201d Neruda trusts and celebrates his senses and inextricably links his experiences, quite specifically, to the natural world he loves: to the damp forests of southern Chile; to the thick, gnarled roots of the pines deeply penetrating the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":107,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,22,26],"tags":[31,3,11,5,6,23,14,19],"class_list":["post-106","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-experimental-poetry","category-poetry-language","category-poetry-translation","tag-ann-huang","tag-essential-poetry","tag-experimental-poetry","tag-poetry-form","tag-poetry-structure","tag-poetry-translation","tag-surrealist-poetry","tag-transcendentalism"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/106","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=106"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/106\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":113,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/106\/revisions\/113"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/107"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=106"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=106"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annhuangpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=106"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}