Stephen Spender Prize 2007

for poetry in translation

Winner of the Winners of the Winners of the 14-and-under prize 18-and-under category Open category

Josie Chubb First First ‘Sound of the Bell’ Jenny Harris Allen Prowle by Pierre Reverdy Odes I.IX ‘Poppies’ (French) by Horace by Attilio Bertolucci (Latin) (Italian)

Joint Second Second Clare Bristow John Richmond an extract from ‘Lemons’ ‘The Wanderer’ by Eugenio Montale (Anglo-Saxon) (Italian)

Daniel Hitchens Joint Third ‘A Discussion Peter Zollman of the Poem’ ‘Aeneas and Dido’ by Christoph Meckel by István Baka (German) (Hungarian)

Gordon Wallace an extract from Canto V of Inferno by Dante (Italian)

Commended Commended Commended

Ana O’Shaughnessy-Gutierrez Clare Bristow Elizabeth Stanley J. S. Tennant ‘To an Old Elm Tree’ an extract from ‘The Wife’s Lament’ ‘To the Jew who an extract from by Antonio Machado (Anglo-Saxon) Walked Away’ Metamorphoses XI (Spanish) by Leen Deij by Ovid Alice Malin (Esperanto) (Latin) Jamie Gore ‘Ode to a Chestnut on the Ground’ ‘Tomorrow at Dawn’ and ‘Ode to a Watch at Night’ Mike Mitchell Nicholas Slater by Victor Hugo by Pablo Neruda ‘The Denotation an extract from (French) (Spanish) of Babel’ ‘Orpheus. Eurydice. by Helmut Krausser Hermes’ Emily Tesh (German) by Rilke an extract from Electra (German) by Sophocles Stephanie Norgate (Ancient Greek) an extract from Aeneid II by Virgil (Latin)

Jason Warren an extract from Tristia by Ovid (Latin)

3 Introduction

It is true that each year the same languages dominate and there are literal fidelity and the equivalence that makes for fidelity of reading no prizes for guessing that these languages are French, German, experience’. It is rare for translators to have the opportunity to Latin and Spanish (in that order), though this year Hungarian explain their approach and justify their decisions and it makes for knocked Italian from fifth place. But each year more languages fascinating reading, sometimes prompting admiring responses from are represented – 37 in 2007 – and while there were no entries the judges at the solutions found. As more than one judge testifies from Bengali, Bulgarian, Sanskrit or Yiddish this year, we saw for below, the commentaries that accompany each entry (an aspect of the first time translations from Catalan, Finnish, Lëtzebuergesch, the prize that A. S. Byatt described as ‘splendidly intelligent’) can Serbian, Slovenian and Ukrainian. The variety of entries, from be not only illuminating but also moving. the utterly familiar to poems encountered for the first time in Thanks must go to this most amiable panel of judges, who were languages with which the judges are not conversant, makes the expert and efficient in equal measure; to Erica Wagner, Literary judging all the more interesting. Editor of The Times, for her invaluable promotion of the prize in The translator Daniel Hahn, whose translation of The Book the weekend book section; and to Arts Council England, without of Chameleons by José Eduardo Agualusa recently won the whose financial support in 2007 this prize would not have run. Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, has written of ‘the eternal Robina Pelham Burn problem faced by every translator – finding the balance between Director of the Stephen Spender Memorial Trust

Judges’ comments

This year’s entries were Chubb’s translation of Reverdy’s ‘Sound of Norgate’s relocation of Virgil’s Aeneid II to impressive in their divers the Bell’; it is a short piece but she gave us a a modern battlefield, which both received ity and range, from real sense of a unified poem, not just in her commendations. It was cheering, too, to see languages new to the version but in her thoughtful commentary. poems from different, more oral traditions prize such as Wolof and Other entries which caught my eye in this such as Georgina Collins’s translation of Lëtzebuergesch, to a regard were Jac Rees’s version of Verlaine’s the Senegalese poet Mame Seck Mbacké’s marked increase in entries ‘Song of Autumn’ and Alexander Walton’s ‘Twilight’, our first entry from Wolof, or from the languages of ‘new’ Europe, such ‘October’ by Anatole Le Braz, both of Laurence James’s simple translation of the as Romanian and Hungarian (it was also which showed promise, although in the end Welsh ‘village poet’ Jack Oliver. This is uplifting to see how, despite the recent neither made it on to our winners’ list. what translation does: it brings us new threat to its place on university and school In the 18-and-under category, as in traditions and new worlds, while keeping syllabuses, German proved second only to previous years, we were impressed by the our old ones alive and vital. French in popularity). As ever, entrants’ standard of the classical entries although Josephine Balmer commentaries, too, illustrated an impressive these were noticeably fewer than in the past, range of approach and engagement, with particularly from Greek. However, Jenny Judging this prize is as those who provided fascinating discussions Harris’s striking haiku version of the Horace exciting as it is pleasurable. of technical strategies sitting alongside those Odes I.IX was an exceptionally worthy I enjoyed reading the who had a more personal story to offer, and winner, a bold and beautifully readable hundreds of translations almost all revealing how poetry in translation version of a poem which can throw the most and commentaries, and – not to mention the practice of translation experienced of classical translators. Choosing enjoyed also the excitement itself – strikes deep at the heart of many between extracts from longer works and of the final judges’ meeting entrants’ lives (Gordon Wallace’s account of complete, shorter poems is always a difficult and the revelation of the names of the the comfort offered by Henri de Régnier’s task but in Clare Bristow’s versions of winners. This year the judges came quickly poetry during his wife’s decline from Anglo-Saxon, again notoriously difficult to to a consensus, though we all had our special Alzheimer’s was particularly moving). Many translate, and Daniel Hitchens’s confident favourites. I noted with particular pleasure entries also illustrated the wider, political translation of Christoph Meckel’s tricky some of the splendid Italian translations, importance of translated poetry, such as ‘A Discussion of the Poem’, we found two three of which found their way onto our Elizabeth Stanley’s ‘To the Jew who Walked skilled exponents of each task. I was also very Open winners list. I also enjoyed those Away’, translated from Esperanto and impressed with Emily Tesh’s commended candidates who sent in two versions of the commended in the Open Category, or Karen extract from Sophocles’ Electra which same poem, exploring different stylistic and Margolis’s translations of Selma Meerbaum- illustrated an impressive understanding of linguistic techniques that made me look Eisinger, written shortly before the poet’s dramatic dialogue. again at the originals. death in a Nazi labour camp at the age of Our Open category seemed aptly The commentaries are fascinating, eighteen. It was heartening, too, to read of named this year as, in a field of even but because they reveal the processes by which several entrants who were making their first perhaps less immediately striking entries translators arrive at their final version and attempts at poetry translation, discovering than previously, each of us initially found provide an account of what they have learned how it can enrich their experience as both different candidates for commendation. In through translating. Some translators take readers and writers. the end we were all agreed on the quality pains to explain their strategies, others This was, of course, particularly the of Allen Prowle’s beautifully executed confess to more intimate relations with case for our entrants in the 14-and-under translations of Attilio Bertolucci. We were a poet or a poem. It was very moving to category where this year the judges’ also impressed by new ways of looking at learn how translating a particular poem had shortlists were – for once! – in agreement. ancient texts such as Jason Warren’s radical helped some people cope with bereavement We were all struck by the deftness of Josie condensing of Ovid’s Tristia or Stephanie or terminal illness, and testifies to the

4 Judges’ comments

eternal power of literature to heal. There Judging The Times translators often struggle with. The were a number of translations of poems Stephen Spender Prize for boldness to be radical, as in the wonderful about the Holocaust, written in many the first time, I was struck haiku versions of Horace, is exceptional. languages, some extremely powerful, and not only by the evident Hardest was, perhaps inevitably, the Open one of the winning entries, a translation enthusiasm for poetry competition. I was sorry that I could not from the Hungarian of a poem by István from an impressive array persuade my fellow judges of the merits of Baka, retells the painful story of Dido and of languages, but also the Mike Mitchell’s brilliantly sassy translation Aeneas in a particularly memorable and willingness of contestants to stretch the of Helmut Krausser’s ‘The Denotation of utterly contemporary manner. possibilities of English and find new ways Babel’, a real discovery for me, and regretted As with last year’s entries, there were of saying. Many contestants translated well- too that my own enthusiasm for a haunting some very strong translations of classical known poems; though translating a ‘classic’ version by Angus Turvill of the Japanese poems, especially in the 18-and-under presents difficulties of its own; not least of poet Nomura Kiwao’s ‘A Gentle Hinge’ category. I am convinced that this reflects which is the rich shadow-life such a poem was not shared by my colleagues. However, some excellent teaching of classical literature already has in English. Others made a point the painstaking sifting and re-reading of and a revival of interest in the ancient world of quarrelling with existing translations, and the final round allowed translations of real more generally. Unfortunately, this cannot hoped to communicate what made the poem stature to emerge, on which we had no be said of many of the translations from tick in a fresh new way. Others again set out difficulty in reaching agreement. These were languages such as French, German and to reveal a more private passion, a relatively poems that obeyed the first and perhaps the Spanish. Some of the translators had made unknown contemporary poet, who was only binding rule of translation: that they a valiant stab at a poem, but had failed being fetched into English for the first time. work as poems in English. The first line of due to their totally inadequate knowledge A facet of this competition which Gordon Wallace’s Dante (my own personal of grammar and syntax. Time and again was difficult to gauge in advance was the favourite) resonates with me even now. But we rejected poems full of mistranslations, commentary on the submitted translations. all of these prizewinners and commended often of quite simple sentences. This, sadly, Quite a number of submissions failed to entries have taken that essential step. Cut appears to reflect the absence of much take full advantage of this opportunity, adrift from their original context, they have serious grammar study in the GCSE or A simply offering a biographical account of found a new and vital life, a new home. level syllabus, a point that many teachers the poet in question. But at their best, these Karen Leeder have made to me. The choice of what to commentaries revealed a rich understanding translate was also a problem for some of the mechanisms of the original poem as The motives for translating candidates, and several people, especially well as the thought processes which had can be many and various, in the 18-and-under and 14-and-under led to certain lexical or technical decisions. and showcasing a language categories, chose poems that were either I was, however, unprepared for the often is one. This year Esperanto far too complex for them to undertake or, moving biographical testimony, which was touted as a language in contrast, were extremely simple exercise showed just how important a particular of neutrality in a period pieces. Some of the weakest translations in poem had been at a pivotal moment in of international tension; all categories were of rather banal poems someone’s life, sometimes accompanying Ukrainian and Georgian signified cultures that did not offer much possibility of them through many years as a kind of resurfacing following the break-up of the creativity to the translator. This is especially touchstone. Soviet empire and Turkish the steady eastern true of much of Prévert, though perhaps I I also learned a good deal about how extension of Europe; Tagalog represented am biased here. English accommodates certain voices most the constellation of languages of South Formal considerations also varied a great easily and struggles with others. Rhyme East Asia, a vast, rich and complex cultural deal. A number of translators tried their is a case in point. It was almost always region still little known in the West; an hand at rhymed verse, though unless you possible to tell on reading an English poem Afrikaans poem served as a reminder of a have experience of using rhyme this is often in free verse whether the original had been culture much more humanly attractive than a strategy that leads nowhere except to rhymed or worked closely with rhythms. memories of the apartheid system would contrived, forced lines and clichés. Happily, Of course it is not always necessary to suggest. There are other translations that there were also some examples of very rhyme a poem in English in the same are the products of the 9/1l syndrome. skilful use of rhyme and rhythmic patterns. way as it has been rhymed in the original. Triggered by acutely critical and distressing The winning translation of a passage from Indeed there are occasions when to follow events, they include one fine and moving Dante’s Inferno deliberately avoided any the original would mean sabotaging the example in memory of a wife claimed by form of rhyme and opted instead for a poem in English – a language in which Alzheimer’s disease. And then there are structure that, as the commentary states, it is far harder to rhyme unobtrusively. the products of the Housman effect – ‘the ‘paragraphed the text as required by the However simply abandoning any attempt poem makes my hair stand on end.’ logic and by the English’. at rhyme often means sabotaging the poem Cultural trends can also be clearly What is so valuable about this competition in a different way. The English felt broken, discerned, such as signs of a rapidly emergent is that it demonstrates every year not only lacked the essential tension that had given multicultural Britain. Alongside an ancient how many people there are actively engaging the original its power. There are no ready aboriginal language such as Welsh there are in translation from many languages, but answers, but I for one missed a more many others recently become native. Whereas also how important poetry is in a society thoughtful use of para-rhyme, that staple of many of these could be readily predicted, that sometimes seems cynical and overly contemporary English poetry. others – such as Romanian – could not. Over materialistic. I am humbled by the talent of The judges agreed quickly on the 14- the coming decades this linguistic enrichment both poets and translators and, as in previous and-under entries; the 18-and-under of British culture could result in a translation years, excited by the new poets I have category impressed with the confidence boom such as the USA has enjoyed since the discovered through the judging process. of the winning submissions. The boldness Second World War. On the other hand, what Susan Bassnett to be simple is something that experienced is gained from this multilingualism may barely

5 Judges’ comments

outweigh the catastrophic consequences of In general, the single greatest fault at the number of translations that had the appalling decline of language teaching seemed to me to be an insensitivity to the the power to possess me. And, as in the British education system. And there language of form – to the way the complex always, several of my favourites failed is one paradox worth pondering: natural structure of a poem constitutes its meaning. to make the final cut. Among these bilingualism may be as much of a curse as a To apologise for failing to reproduce the were a sumptuously evocative version blessing for a translator. The linguistic and rhyme is beside the point unless one realises by Nicholas Slater of Rilke’s great cultural inwardness with which a translator what this may signify – namely a failure meditation on loss, ‘Orpheus. Eurydice. is thus privileged is offset by the danger of to realise the generative matrix of sound Hermes’; a free, yet sensitive, account unconscious linguistic interference, of double and rhythm that is a poem’s core identity. by J. S. Tennant of the dismemberment exposure, of producing an English text subtly A poem’s vivid figurativeness may be a of Orpheus from the Metamorphoses; ghosted by its ‘foreign’ source. It is a problem distraction here, giving the impression and Jack Farchy’s spirited, ingenious I experience not infrequently in Wales, a that to translate the tropes is enough to rendering of an enigmatic piece by country whose bilingualism is already almost guarantee capture of the text. Khlebnikov. two centuries old. That said, I continue to be astonished M. Wynn Thomas

6 Winner of the 14-and-under prize

Son de Cloche Sound of the Bell

Tout s’est éteint All has faded away. Le vent passe en chantant The wind passes, singing Et les arbres frissonnent. And the trees shiver. Les animaux sont morts The animals are dead. Il n’y a plus personne Nobody remains. Regarde Look, Les étoiles ont cessé de briller The stars have stopped shining! La terre ne tourne pas The Earth has stopped turning! Une tête s’est inclinée One head is bowed, Les cheveux balayant la nuit Hair sweeps the night. Le dernier clocher resté debout The last steeple standing Sonne minuit. Tolls midnight.

Pierre Reverdy Translated from the French by Josie Chubb

Josie Chubb’s commentary

I chose this poem as I recognised Pierre clumsy and did not fit in with the dark yet slight repetition would be the making of Reverdy as a distinguished surrealist poet elegant sense of the poem, so I decided to these two lines, which, in all other senses, and I thought it would be interesting to try use ‘steeple’ instead. are linked. to grasp the atmosphere that he is able to Another sentence I had difficulty In this poem, Reverdy decides not to create with French in English. Also, I think translating was ‘les cheveux balayant la use any punctuation. In lines 6, 7 and 8 that each sentence shows a distinct picture nuit’. To me this gave a vivid picture of it seemed necessary to add punctuation, of the night, therefore I thought it would the wind crashing into a long haired, low otherwise it is hard to understand how be a challenge to show the reader the same headed woman, suddenly sending her hair these lines are being said. I interpreted it as images in English as in the French. flying across the black sky. I decided to two quite shocked sentences, so this is why I tried to translate the French as translate ‘balayant’ as ‘sweeps’ yet I still do I have used exclamation marks at the end of accurately as possible, but sometimes the not think that this implants in the reader’s lines 7 and 8. words that were used stood out for all the head the image that I had imagined. Overall I think that I have captured wrong reasons and I had to find others In some cases I have changed the tense. the significance of the dead of midnight, with similar yet more fitting meanings. For ‘La terre ne tourne pas’ should be written keeping all the beauty in English that example, ‘clocher’ is literally translated as in English as ‘the Earth does not turn’. Reverdy evokes in French. ‘bell tower’, but I thought that this sounded But for the sake of poetry, I thought that

7 Winners of the 18-and-under category

Odes I.IX Odes I.IX

Vides, ut alta stet nive candidum Look at how it stands Now in parks and squares, Soracte, nec iam sustineant onus Gleaming white with deep snowfall, Softly whispered in the night, silvae laborantes, geluque Mount Soracte there; Secret rendez-vous: flumina constiterint acuto. And the creaking woods Look for them again – Dissolve frigus ligna super foco Groaning under all the weight; Pleasing laughs from a secret large reponens, atque benignius Rivers sharp with ice. Corner that betray deprome quadrimum Sabina, O Thaliarche, merum diota. Drive away the cold, The girl hiding there; Piling logs upon the fire A token snatched from her arm Permitte divis cetera, qui simul With a lavish hand: Or teasing finger. stravere ventos aequore fervido deproeliantis, nec cupressi Thaliarchus, pour nec veteres agitantur orni. Generously from the jar My four-year-old wine. Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere et, quem fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro Leave the gods the rest, appone, nec dulces amores Even when the winds make war sperne puer neque tu choreas, On the seething sea,

donec virenti canities abest They will calm them down; morosa. Nunc et campus et areae Cypress and old mountain ash lenesque sub noctem susurri Will no more be stirred. composita repetantur hora, Ask the future not nunc et latentis proditor intimo How many days you have left: gratus puellae risus ab angulo Count them all as gain. pignusque dereptum lacertis aut digito male pertinaci. While you’re green, young, free From fretful greyness, don’t shun Sweet love and dancing.

Horace Translated from the Latin by Jenny Harris

Jenny Harris’s commentary

Staring out of my window at the falling the laughing girl at the end. We can of lines and enjambement, which I feel are snow, wondering what to translate, my reflect ourselves on how they are pinned important to the flow of the poetry. mind was drawn to this Horatian ode. together by the Epicurean message, ‘quid I have been able to devote whole lines At the time I studied it, it frustrated me; sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere’, whose to Latin words whose meanings could I felt Horace leapt from topic to topic central position in the structure reflects not be easily summed up, like ‘large’ too quickly, with no conclusion at the its importance to the ode. or ‘repetantur’. While trying to be very end to link his thoughts together. Now, Haiku may seem an odd choice to faithful to the sense of the original, I have however, I prefer to think of it more like translate a Latin poem into English, but the replaced the specifically Roman ‘campus’ a painting: this is not a poem to be read Greek Alcaic stanzas Horace chose were with the modern equivalent ‘parks’ to make once through from start to finish and not an entirely natural choice for Latin. It is the meaning clearer to the non-classical then left behind; we must rather enjoy the appropriate to the subject matter of nature reader. I found ‘secret rendez-vous’ a more evocative images one by one and then go and changing seasons, and it has allowed me interesting translation of ‘composita…hora’ back and contemplate them all together, to retain more of Horace’s word order in than a literal rendering, implying, as Horace from snow-covered Mount Soracte to terms of emphases on beginnings and ends does, the excitement of illicit love affairs.

8 Winners of the 18-and-under category

The Wanderer (lines 64–115) The Wanderer (an extract)

For þon ne mæg weorþan wis wer ær he age No man in the world may call himself wise wintra dæl in woruldrice. Wita sceal geþyldig Before he has lived out his share ne sceal no to hatheort ne to hrædwyrde Of winters on earth. A wise man must be ne to wac wiga ne to wanhydig Not too hasty, but patient and fair. ne to forht ne to fægen ne to feohgifre Nor too passionate he, nor too feeble in war, ne næfre gielpes to georn ær he geare cunne. Nor too free, nor too greedy with gold, Beorn sceal gebidan þonne he beot spriceð Nor too eager to boast before he well knows oþ þæt collenferð cunne gearwe His worth, and how much he may hold. hwider hreþra gehygd hweorfan wille. A man who is set upon swearing an oath Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle hu gæstlic bið Should wait until he knows himself well, þonne eall þisse worulde wela weste stondeð And knows the way that his will shall be turned swa nu missenlice geond þisne middangeard In times that are troubled and fell. winde biwaune weallas stondaþ Wise men must know what this world will be like hrime bihrorene hryðge þa ederas. When its wealth is all wasted and bare. Woriað þa winsalo waldend licgað Even now, many places on this middle-earth dreame bidrorene duguþ eal gecrong Stand forlorn in the frosty-cold air. wlonc bi wealle. Sume wig fornom The ruins of buildings, the walls in the wind, ferede in forðwege sumne fugel oþbær The cellars for wine that now fall, ofer heanne holm sumne se hara wulf The lord and his men, lacking joy in this life, deaðe gedælde sumne dreorighleor Lying dead by the wall. in eorðscræfe eorl gehydde. Some were borne from this world by battle or bird, Yþde swa þisne eardgeard ælda Scyppend And one the grey wolf bore away, oþ þæt burgwara breahtma lease And one, a brave man, in a barrow was laid, eald enta geweorc idlu stodon. Washed with tears, and hidden from day. Se þonne þisne wealsteal wise geþohte Even so, long ago, the Creator of man ond þis deorce lif deope geondþenceð Rained ruin down onto this earth frod in ferðe feor oft gemon So the work of great beings stood barren and bare wælsleahta worn ond þas word acwið: With no sound of men’s songs nor their mirth. Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? The man who has strayed in deep thought, and has known Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa? The ills that Creation has wrought – Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? Hwær sindon seledreamas? The long-ago deaths, the darkness of life – Eala beorht bune eala byrnwiga Might speak thus, out of his thought: eala þeodnes þrym. Hu seo þrag gewat Where is the horse now? Where the brave man? genap under nihthelm swa heo no wære. Where are the treasures that fall? Stondeð nu on laste leofre duguþe Where are the seats for the feasting? weal wundrum heah wyrmlicum fah. And where are the joys of the hall? Eorlas fornoman asca þryþe Alas, the bright cup. Alas, the brave man. wæpen wælgifru wyrd seo mære Alas for the princes so keen: ond þas stanhleoþu stormas cnyssað That time is now passed under shadow of night hrið hreosende hrusan bindeð As though it had never been. wintres woma þonne won cymeð So all that remains is the worm-graven wall nipeð nihtscua norþan onsendeð As a monument wondrous high hreo hæglfare hæleþum on andan. To the heroes who, thanks to the hunger of fate Eall is earfoðlic eorþan rice and the spear, have been lost, left to die. onwendeð wyrda gesceaft weoruld under heofonum. The storms are now striking these wintry stones, Her bið feoh læne her bið freond læne The tempest is clenching its vice. her bið mon læne her bið mæg læne. The night-shades are coming, the north wind is sending Eal þis eorþan gesteal idel weorþeð. ’Gainst men, fierce hail, biting ice. Swa cwæð snottor on mode gesæt him sundor æt rune. All the realms of the earth under heaven above Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene Are with sorrow unstoppably wrought, beorn of his breostum acyþan nemþe he ær þa bote cunne And all fortune and friends and mankind and all kin eorl mid elne gefremman. Wel bið þam þe him are seceð Pass away, as this world comes to nought. frofre to Fæder on heofonum þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð. Thus spoke the wise man as in secret he sat, All wrapped in his riddles alone. O blessed the man who can keep his own faith and can keep his heart’s troubles unknown, Unless he can cure them by will from within. And happy the man who looks round For comfort and grace from our Father above, For there all our safety is found.

Anon Translated from the Anglo-Saxon by Clare Bristow

9 Winners of the 18-and-under category

The Wanderer: Clare Bristow’s commentary

Old English is not completely foreign to although devices such as alliteration and use a conspicuously Latinate word where a a Modern English translator, as the most repetition can still be used. Germanic synonym is available, so as not to basic vocabulary is largely unchanged. Above all, Old English poetry was obscure its character and origin. However, the more I learn, the more I made to be spoken. My aim is to make The ‘Wife’s Lament’ and ‘The Wanderer’ realise how much of the vocabulary has these translations memorable for a reciter are powerful elegies. I like how much been lost. There are dozens of synonyms today. Therefore I have not changed the they leave to the imagination – about the for ‘mind’ or ‘heart’, for instance, that it is arrangement of the subject matter, but given speaker’s identity, for example. They are hard to do justice to. Moreover, the poetry structure and patterning to a straightforward worth translating, because they tell us has a strict, concise structure that suits a translation. In ‘The Wanderer’ this takes the much about Anglo-Saxon culture but also highly inflected language but is impossible form of end-rhyme and, as in the original, address universal subjects like grief and bad to render completely into Modern English, four ‘beats’ in each line. I have tried not to weather.

10 Winners of the 18-and-under category

Rede vom Gedicht A Discussion of the Poem

Das Gedicht ist nicht der Ort, wo die Schönheit gepflegt wird. The poem is not a space where beauty lives.

Hier ist die Rede vom Salz, das brennt in den Wunden. You’re here to discuss salt searing in an open wound. Hier ist die Rede vom Tod, von vergifteten Sprachen. You’re here to discuss death and blackened tongues. Von Vaterländern, die eisernen Schuhen gleichen. The fatherland, which makes you think of iron boots. Das Gedicht ist nicht der Ort, wo die Wahrheit verziert wird. The poem is not a space where truth is prettified.

Hier ist die Rede vom Blut, das fliesst aus den Wunden. You’re here to discuss blood spouting from wounds. Vom Elend, vom Elend, vom Elend des Traums. The anguish, the anguish, the anguish of dreaming. Von Verwüstung und Auswurf, von klapprigen Utopien. Cast-offs, atrocities, broken-down utopias. Das Gedicht ist nicht der Ort, wo der Schmerz verheilt wird. The poem is not a space where hurt is softened.

Hier ist die Rede von Zorn und Täuschung und Hunger You’re here to discuss the angry, the duped, the hungry (die Stadien der Sättigung werden hier nicht besungen). (no-one is celebrating the stages of satiation). Hier ist die Rede von Fressen, Gefressenwerden You’re here to discuss devouring, being devoured, von Mühsal und Zweifel, hier ist die Chronik der Leiden. destitution and self-doubt, the annals of suffering. Das Gedicht ist nicht der Ort, wo das Sterben begütigt The poem is not a space where the dying are consoled, wo der Hunger gestillt, wo die Hoffnung verklärt wird. where hunger is satisfied, where hope is transfigured.

Das Gedicht ist der Ort der zu Tode verwundeten Wahrheit. The poem is the space of truth maimed to the point of death. Flügel! Flügel! Der Engel stürzt, die Federn His wings! His wings! The angel tumbles, his feathers fliegen einzeln und blutig im Sturm der Geschichte! scatter wildly, blood-soaked in the storm of history!

Das Gedicht ist nicht der Ort, wo der Engel geschont wird. The poem is not a place where the angel lives.

Christoph Meckel Translated from the German by Daniel Hitchens

Daniel Hitchens’ commentary

This poem is marked out by its bleakness, challenging his reader’s preconceptions. nities: the single word ‘Schmerz’ carries and I wanted to replicate that in my At times Meckel works very closely with a whole number of meanings, of which translation. With the second, third and sound, so I tried to keep up: the ‘s’ and ‘pain’ is only the most obvious. I wanted fourth stanzas, the sentence structure is ‘ung’ sounds in the line about ‘Sättigung’ are a sense of long-lasting injury, because this simple, but I tried to find the most effective clearly meant to be mimetic of something is a poem about ‘die Geschichte’ and our vocabulary. Only occasionally did this overstuffed, so I used the same effect with relationship to it. involve changing the meaning; but, for the ‘a’ and ‘s’ sounds. Unfortunately, I I chose this poem because it is powerful, example, ‘poisoned tongues’ doesn’t sound couldn’t find an English equivalent for the but also because there is a nagging quite right in English, and nor does ‘salt, brilliant shift from ‘Schönheit’ to ‘geschont’; contradiction: if poetry has to be purged that burns in wounds’. the closest I could manage was the switch of beauty, then why is there something so The major decision was how to translate from ‘space’ to ‘place’ and the slight change magnificent about the final image? Meckel’s the repeated ‘Hier ist die Rede von…’, which in the meaning of ‘lives’. real target is over-simplification: I hope again loses its power in a literal translation. Elsewhere, the difference between to have retained some of the layers of I opted for the accusatory ‘you’: Meckel is German and English presented opportu- meaning.

11 Winners of the Open category

I Papaveri Poppies

Questo è un anno di papaveri, la nostra This is a year of poppies. When, between May and June, terra ne traboccava poi che vi tornai I came back home again, our fields fra maggio e giugno, e m’inebriai brimmed with their wine, so sweet, so dark, d’un vino così dolce così fosco. it made me drunk.

Dal gelso nuvoloso al grano all’erba From cloud-banks of mulberry maturità era tutto, in un calore to the grass and the grain, ripeness was all, conveniente, in un lento sopore spreading in gentle heat and dawdling sleepiness diffuso dentro l’universo verde. through this world of green.

A metà della vita ora vedevo Halfway through my life I saw my sons, figli cresciuti allontanarsi soli grown men, escaping out of sight, e perdersi oltre il carcere di voli freed from whatever binds che la rondine stringe nello spento the swallow to its flight

bagliore d’una sera di tempesta, across a stormy evening’s fading glow. e umanamente il dolore cedeva And, as is human, my sorrow eased alla luce che in casa s’accendeva when the house lit up again, d’un’altra cena in un’aria più fresca for another supper, the air cooled

per grandine sfogatasi lontano. by a far-off flurry of hail.

Attilio Bertolucci Translated from the Italian by Allen Prowle

Allen Prowle’s commentary

Attilio Bertolucci’s poetry has many of the began to feel like a go-between, for whom principle of English verse, but I have avoided qualities I admire in that of Edward Thomas, the past is two foreign countries, but where fixed metrical patterns, imposing on the several of whose poems he translated into they did not do things too differently from line the accents of speech in order to be as Italian. Both poets shunned the rhetorical, each other. faithful as possible to the states of mind and bardic traditions, so often, in both countries, Even within the tight space of its feeling conveyed in the original. At the end, burdened with the mission and zeal of seventeen lines, ‘Poppies’ has three distinct before that last line which refuses to belong nationhood. Both were vulnerably sensitive movements: it begins in the lushness to the neatness of the preceding quatrains, I human beings. Their poetry is a poetry of the and languor of summer in the Emilian have ‘cooled’ the air rather than ‘refreshed’ private place, a usually elusive haven from countryside to which the poet has returned; or ‘freshened’ it, as it seemed more in personal distress and national upheaval; they then the painful memory intrudes of the keeping with the tenuousness of things, crafted a language, not literary, but spoken, departure of his sons and the recognition with, as Bertolucci and Thomas both knew, and a poetic line which carried the cadences of his inability to hold together what he their inveterate changeability. of speech. When I worked on my translation most loved; finally, there is the consolation of ‘Poppies’ I kept listening for Thomas’s of reunion and the comforting ritual of Original Italian reproduced by kind permission voice, for Thomas’s version, if you like. I conviviality. Stress is inescapably the ruling of Garzanti Libri SpA.

12 Winners of the Open category

I limoni Lemons

Ascoltami, i poeti laureati Listen to me. Proper poets only like to stroll si muovono soltanto fra le piante amid the kinds of plants whose names are rare: dai nomi poco usati: bossi ligustri o acanti. acanthus, privet, box. But I love roads Io, per me, amo le strade che riescono agli erbosi which lead to grassy ditches where, fossi dove in pozzanghere from half-dry puddles, boys scoop up mezzo seccate agguantano i ragazzi a few emaciated eels: qualche sparuta anguilla: green lanes which run along the ditches’ edge le viuzze che seguono i ciglioni, and drop between the tufts of giant reeds discendono tra i ciuffi delle canne down to the orchards, to the lemon trees. e mettono negli orti, tra gli alberi dei limoni. It’s better that the blue should swallow up Meglio se le gazzarre degli uccelli and hush the chatter of the birds. si spengono inghiottite dall’azzurro: We hear more clearly then the whispering più chiaro si ascolta il susurro of friendly branches in the scarcely moving air dei rami amici nell’aria che quasi non si muove, and catch a scent we cannot disassociate e i sensi di quest’odore from earth: a restless sweetness raining on the heart. che non sa staccarsi da terra The place performs a miracle of peace e piove in petto una dolcezza inquieta. on troubled and distracted minds; Qui delle divertite passioni poor we may be, but here we gain per miracolo tace la guerra, our share of riches, and that is qui tocca anche a noi poveri la nostra parte di ricchezza the smell of lemons. ed è l’odore dei limoni. These are the silences, you see, in which Vedi, in questi silenzi in cui le cose things give themselves away, seem ready s’abbandonano e sembrano vicine to betray their final secret. a tradire il loro ultimo segreto, We may be about to find a flaw of Nature. talora ci si aspetta We are at the dead point of the world, di scoprire uno sbaglio di Natura, the link that will not hold, il punto morto del mondo, l’anello che non tiene, the disentangling thread that finally il filo da disbrogliare che finalmente ci metta will take us to the heart of something true. nel mezzo di una verità. The eyes search everywhere, Lo sguardo fruga d’intorno, the brain requires an answer… then it yields, disintegrates: la mente indaga accorda disunisce effect of perfume overflowing most nel profumo che dilaga when day most languishes. quando il giorno più languisce. These are the silences in which Sono i silenzi in cui si vede we glimpse in every fleeting human ghost in ogni ombra umana che si allontana a certain disarranged Divinity. qualche disturbata Divinità. But the illusion fails. Time drags us back Ma l’illusione manca e ci riporta il tempo to noisy cities where we see the blue nelle città rumorose dove l’azzurro si mostra in patches only, up between the roofs. soltanto a pezzi, in alto, tra le cimase. The rain is wearying the earth. Now winter’s tedium La pioggia stanca la terra, di poi; s’affolta weighs on the houses, light turns miserly, il tedio dell’inverno sulle case, the spirit bitter. la luce si fa avara - amara l’anima. Then, one day, Quando un giorno da un malchiuso portone glimpsed through a half-shut gate, tra gli alberi di una corte there in the courtyard trees ci si mostrano i gialli dei limoni; the yellows of the lemons are on show. e il gelo del cuore si sfa, The chill which gripped our hearts relents e in petto ci scrosciano as sunlight’s golden trumpets le loro canzoni pour their songs into our souls. le trombe d’oro della solarità.

Eugenio Montale Translated from the Italian by John Richmond

13 Winners of the Open category

John Richmond’s commentary

This wonderful early poem by Montale truths beneath the appearance of our sense- tried to follow Montale’s example; while catches, first, the intensity of Montale’s bound existence. The end of the poem anything is possible, not anything goes. feeling for the area of the Cinque Terre, returns reassuringly to the known; amid The hardest lines to translate were north of La Spezia, where year after year, a chill, dreary urban winter, lemon trees, several in the midst of the poem, where it as a child and a young man, he spent the seen by chance, gloriously revive the poet’s takes some head-scratching to work out long summer holidays with his family. The spirits and his faith in life. what Montale might mean. In particular, I local boys scrabbling for eels; the sense of Montale’s verse is free-ish, but with some was determined not to leave the three verbs lostness within great heat; the outpouring discipline about line length, and bound ‘indaga accorda disunisce’ as perplexing in of admiration and love for the simple but together by plentiful though irregular the translation as they are in the original! luxurious gift of the scent of lemons: all this use of rhyme. My translation maintains Whether the clearing away of ambiguity works marvellously as a straightforward something of his freedom, though I have I have attempted has identified Montale’s tribute to a place. But Montale was dropped into the iambic more persistently intention without sacrificing the mystery already moving into modernism, and the than does the original. On the other hand, and the power of the poem at that point is central passage of the poem goes beyond my rhymes are more occasional than those for others to say. description into a fantasy about underlying in the original. With regard to form, I have

14 Winners of the Open category

Aeneas és Dido Aeneas and Dido ‘Így hát a nagy ember elhagyta Karthágót...’ ‘So the great man left Carthage...’ (Joszif Brodszkij: Dido és Aeneas) (Joseph Brodsky: ‘Dido and Aeneas’)

1. Dido, királynôm, nem látlak soha. 1. I never see you now, Dido, my queen. A hullámok meanderei kéken The blue meanders of the wavy seas futnak, s mint Ariadné fonala, will roll like thread from Ariadne’s skein vezetnek új hazába, hol a népem and lead me to a land where refugees tán Minotaurusszá változik bús may change into a Minotaur, following nászunk után – miatt? – hisz labirintus our melancholy union (or owing bejáratául tárult szép öled, to it?). Your parting thighs opened the doors s mi összbogozott, a gyûlölet toward that lustful labyrinth of yours. fonalaként fog visszagombolyodni Our bond, a thread of hate, will unravel, néped kezébe népemnek kezébôl. and coil from our hands to your people’s hands. Találkozom, hát véled újra – végül So we shall meet again and as we travel, együtt fogunk mi árnyakként bolyongni; roaming shadows, across war-tainted lands, s a vér-iszamos csatatereken on every site where blood and wetness lies is vágytól siklós öled keresem. I’ll seek your hot, desire-wetted thighs.

2. Fanyar a búcsú? Fanyarabb a bor 2. A harsh farewell? The wine is harsher still, s a borszín tenger, melybe rózsaujját and the wine-hued sea where rosy dawn dips a hajnal mártja. Vérünk bárha forr, her fingers. Never mind our love, the thrill, jó tudni: fenn, Olimpuszon mi újság; I need fresh Olympian news and tips különben fuccs a bornak és a kéjnek, or else all wine and lust will fall to dirt, és Gorgó-fôt növesztenek az éjek, sunrise will roast us like a Nessus shirt ránk ég a virradat, mint Nessus-ing. and night will threaten with a Gorgon-head. Irigyebbek a mi isteneink, Our gods are envious, don’t be misled Dido, de késô lenne már cserélni. my Dido. First, it’s too late for a change, Megnyugtató mégiscsak, hogy az égbôl second, it’s comfort that Heaven sends word megüzenik gyakran, hogy mitévô telling me what I have to do, and third, legyek, – nem kell a döntéstôl se félni. when facing judgment you should never cringe. Máglyára lépsz, ha elhagylak? Na és?! You choose the stake if I move off? So what? Nem én akartam – égi rendelés. It’s not my wish. The gods have hatched the plot.

3. Mellettem alszik már Lavinia; 3. Our bed. Lavinia slumbers. Not a stir. keményebb húsú, ifjabb, mint te voltál; She’s younger, firmer-fleshed than you could claim, de az a tûz, amely a testbôl oltárt yes, but flames that turn the human frame varázsol, benne nem lángolt soha. into an altar, have never burnt in her. Mindegy – csak szüljön, kéj nélkül foganva Conceiving and bearing without any joy, teljen meg évrôl évre, mint a kamra! she fills up like a larder every year. Hideg szemûek s idegen, latin My sons will be cold eyed, puzzling to hear, beszédûek lesznek a fiaim. all Latin speakers and strangers to Troy. Új – még kicsiny – hazámat isten óvja! God save my new, still unimportant place. Miért fáj jobban Karthágó, mint Trója? Why do I miss my Troy much less than Carthage? S bár oldalamról annyian kidôltek, Although I’ve lost most of my valiant band, miért csak azt az egyet — hervatag why you alone enjoy the moot advantage szépasszonyt: téged hívlak napra nap? of me still yearning after your fading grace? Dido, királynôm, gyûlölöm e földet. Dido, my gracious queen, I hate this land.

István Baka Translated from the Hungarian by Peter Zollman

Peter Zollman’s commentary

István Baka was 47 years old when he died There is a wonderful, deep-toned two- Elsewhere I used different expressions. after a long, devastating illness in 1995. I letter word, ‘öl’, in Hungarian. It means Baka, like many Hungarian poets, feel very close to him and to his poems. ‘lap’ but it is closer to the crotch and further remained committed to formal poetry In this translation I tried to recreate away from the knees. It also describes the through most of his life and I believe the mix of Baka’s somewhat heightened vagina in its full erotic sense without even that presenting these three sonnets of diction and his use of colloquial expressions the slightest vulgar or scientific resonance. uncompromisingly strict form and exuberant like ‘thrill’, ‘Olympian news and tips’, ‘so In this poem I translated it twice as ‘thighs’ imagery the translator’s duty is to pass on what?’, ‘the gods have hatched the plot’. (in the context of the surrounding words). this rich contrast to the English reader.

15 Winners of the Open category

Inferno, Canto V The Punishment of the Carnal Sinners (lines 28–87) (from Inferno, Canto V)

Io venni in loco d’ogni luce muto, The place I’d reached has never heard of light. che mugghia, come fa mar per tempesta, There howling reigns – a sound like storms at sea se da contrari venti è combattuto. when driving winds from different quarters clash – for there an unremitting, hellish storm La bufera infernal, che mai non resta, hurls spirits rudely torn from earthly life mena gli spirti con la sua rapina; tumbling and buffeted in its harrying wake. voltando e percotendo li molesta. Each time these spirits face their ruin again they scream and sob and, giving vent to grief, Quando giungon davanti alla ruina, blaspheme against our Lord’s authority. quivi le strida, il compianto e il lamento; It came to me: this torment is the lot bestemmian quivi la virtù divina. of those who’re damned for carnal sins in life, whose reason founders as their senses feed. Intesi, che a così fatto tormento enno dannati i peccator carnali, As starlings when cold winds once catch their wings che la ragion sommettono al talento. are tossed about in huge and tight-packed flocks so these unhappy ghosts are hounded too E come gli stornei ne portan l’ali, hither and yon, now up now plunging down, nel freddo tempo, a schiera larga e piena: no hope to bring them comfort, not of rest così quel fiato gli spiriti mali; nor even diminution of their pain.

di qua, di là, di giù, di su gli mena. And then as cranes, migrating, kirrh and kroohk Nulla speranza gli conforta mai, to help them keep in touch in their long lines, non che di posa, ma di minor pena. dark shades loomed into view, their cries of woe brought to me also by the spiteful winds, E come i gru van cantando lor lai, so prompting me to say: Master, who facendo in aer di sè lunga riga; are they, so sadly battered by these lowering gales? così vid’ io venir, traendo guai, The first whose story you now wish to hear ombre portate dalla detta briga; replied the man assigned to be my guide per ch’io dissi: ‘Maestro, chi son quelle was empress over many tribes and tongues genti, che l’aura nera sì gastiga?’ but so far prey to sensuality that she proclaimed lust lawful in decrees ‘La prima di color, di cui novelle to exculpate herself on charge of sin. tu vuoi saper,’ mi disse quegli allotta, She’s Semiramis, and one reads that she ‘fu imperatrice di molte favelle. reigned after Ninus, having been his wife, in those ungodly lands the Sultan rules. A vizzio di lussuria fu sì rotta, che libito fe’licito in sua legge Next Dido, love-beguiled, who killed herself per torre il biasmo, in che era condotta. and so betrayed the ashes of her spouse; there, lust-enraptured, Cleopatra comes. Ell’è Semiramis, di cui si legge, That’s Helen, cause of long-protracted wars, che succedette a Nino, e fu sua sposa; long years of grief; god-like Achilles too tenne la terra, che il Soldan corregge. betrayed in final combat, seeking love. There’s Paris, Tristan… and a thousand shades L’altra è colei, che s’ancise amorosa, he pointed out, and named each one by name, e ruppe fede al cener di Sicheo; who’d lost their lives for love of carnal sin. poi è Cleopatras lussuriosa.

Elena vedi, per cui tanto reo tempo si volse; e vedi il grande Achille, che con amore al fine combatteo;

vedi Paris, Tristano’; e più di mille ombre mostrommi, e nominommi a dito, ch’amor di nostra vita dipartille.

16 Winners of the Open category

Inferno, Canto V The Punishment of the Carnal Sinners (lines 28–87) (from Inferno, Canto V)

Poscia ch’io ebbi il mio dottore udito I’d held myself in check to hear my guide nomar le donne antiche e i cavalieri, name these high lords and ladies now long dead pietà mi giunse, e fui quasi smarrito. but then, bewildered, gave my pity rein and so spoke up: Oh, Laureate, I long to speak lo cominciai: ‘Poeta, volentieri with those two there, so close they might be one, parlerei a que’ duo, che insieme vanno, who seem to float so lightly on the wind. e paion sì al vento esser leggieri.’ And he replied: Your chance will come when they approach us here; invite them in the name Ed egli a me: ‘Vedrai, quando saranno of Love, for that’s what drives them, and they’ll come. più presso a noi; e tu allor li prega The wind had barely time to bring them near per quell’ amor che i mena; e quei verranno.’ when I was calling: Breathless spirits, come and speak with us if that be not forbidden. Sì tosto come il vento a noi li piega, mossi la voce: ‘O anime affannate, As homing pigeons, glad to glide to roost venite a noi parlar, s’altri noi niega.’ and well-loved nest, on steady outspread wings may bend their soaring skills to beat strong gales, Quali colombe, dal disio chiamate, so they now quit the troop that Dido leads con l’ali alzate e ferme al dolce nido and drifted down despite malicious gusts, vengon per l’aer dal voler portate: drawn by the force of my imploring cry.

cotali uscir della schiera ov’è Dido a noi venendo per l’aer maligno, sì forte fu l’affettuoso grido.

Dante Alighieri Translated from the Italian by Gordon Wallace

Gordon Wallace’s commentary

My starting point in trying to achieve I decided in the end to attempt a passage follow a straight path but are none the less yet one more translation from Inferno on the carnal sinners. This immediately battered by the gales of lust. Paolo and was to bring myself more closely to grips precedes the meeting with Paolo and Francesca (lines 74–87), having surrendered with what Dante was saying and to gain Francesca. Inferno is not an epic but there completely to their earthly desires, simply a better understanding of the spirit of his are in this passage three extended similes of soar on their passions wherever the gales age. My second consideration was to find near heroic proportions. Dante’s starlings carry them until, like homing pigeons, they a continuous passage of no more than 60 (lines 40–45), short-winged fluttering birds, are summoned to account by Dante under lines which was self-contained and self- provide a fine metaphor for those who the guidance of his mentor Virgil. explanatory. Without too much difficulty allow the winds of their lusts to blow them I have deliberately eschewed any attempt I could have made several selections of hither and yon without much attempt on at terza rima or other rhyme, and have purple passages but felt that to be fair to the their part to take control of their lives. paragraphed the text as required by the logic original I should not pick and choose only Stronger, steadier, long-winged cranes and by the English rather than replicating from juicy bits. (lines 46–51) make a braver attempt to the three-line stanzas of the Italian.

17 About the Stephen Spender Memorial Trust

Stephen Spender – poet, critic, editor and translator of poetry – lived from 1909 to 1995. The Trust was set up in his memory to promote literary translation and to widen knowledge of 20th century literature, with particular focus on Stephen Spender’s circle of writers.

The Times Stephen Spender Prize BCLT’s summer school; the Great Women symposium in January 2001 on ‘Stephen The aim of this annual prize, launched in Poets tour, which brought translation Spender and his Circle in the l930s’ 2004, is to draw attention to the art of literary workshops to schools around the country; with contributions on Edward Upward, translation and encourage young people to and the Children’s Bookshow Outside Isherwood, Auden, Spender and MacNeice, read foreign poetry at a time when literature In: Children’s Writers in Translation, and an unpublished article on these poets is no more than an optional module in A which saw foreign writers and illustrators written in the Thirties by Isaiah Berlin; the level modern languages. Entrants translate taking part in events in seven cities, with speakers were a combination of those who a poem from any language – modern or workshops in 40 schools. knew Spender and his circle at first hand classical – into English, and submit both and scholars working on them today. the original and their translation, together The archive programme In May 2004, three of the Trust’s with a commentary of not more than 300 In May 2002 the Trust presented the Committee members – Seamus Heaney, words. There are three categories (14- British Library with a collection of Stephen Tony Harrison and Harold Pinter – and-under, 18-and-under and Open) with Spender’s non-fictional, published prose. very generously agreed to celebrate the prizes in each category, the best entries Representing around one million words of publication of Spender’s New Collected being published in The Times and in a mainly essays and journalism, the archive Poems with a reading of his poetry and commemorative booklet produced by the covered 70 years, from 1924 to 1994. It was some of their own. They were joined by Trust. The prize is promoted by The Times compiled by postgraduates, financed by a Jill Balcon (widow of Stephen Spender’s and has been sponsored in 2007 by Arts grant from the British Academy, and was friend, C. Day Lewis) and Vanessa Council England, to whom the Trust is supervised academically by Professor John Redgrave. The 90-minute programme was very grateful. Sutherland and by Lady Spender. The 821 devised by Lady Spender and directed by items, from 79 published sources in Britain, Joe Harmston; all 900 seats of the Queen Translation grants Europe and the USA, are catalogued Elizabeth Hall sold out. Since its inception, the Trust has given chronologically and also alphabetically by On 21 February 2007 (the 100th approximately £42,000 in grants for the source. The Trust’s online version can be anniversary of W. H. Auden’s birth) a translation of contemporary writers searched and sorted according to a variety reading of Auden’s poetry was held at the into English. Recipients include Index of categories via the Trust’s website: www. Shaw Theatre, the result of a collaboration on Censorship for two special issues of stephen-spender.org between the Trust and the British Library. creative work, one on banned fiction Lady Spender is currently collating and Lady Spender, who knew Auden well, and the other on banned poetry; Modern annotating Stephen Spender’s journals, selected the readers (all poets themselves): Poetry in Translation; the Harvill Press, which will be published by Faber James Fenton, John Fuller, Grey Gowrie, for a bilingual edition of poems by Rutger in February 2009 to coincide with his Andrew Motion, Sean O’Brien, Peter Porter Kopland; The Way We Are, a multilingual centenary, while Mark Kermode has been and – in recognition of the years Auden anthology of writing by children and digitising the important photographic spent in the United States – American young people from Waltham Forest; the archive held by Lady Spender, which poet and academic Richard Howard; the Aldeburgh Poetry Trust, to bring to the comprises photographs taken by Stephen programme was devised by Lord Gowrie, festival exiled Palestinian poet Mourid Spender and her from the late 1940s up a founding member of the Stephen Spender Barghouti, the Iraqi poet Fadhil Al-Azzawi, until the 1990s. Memorial Trust and an Auden scholar, and Aharon Shabtai with his translator, the and featured poems predominantly from poet Peter Cole; the British Centre for Events the 1930s and 40s, as well as ‘Auden in Literary Translation, to bring five Eastern The Institute for English Studies, University Milwaukee’, written by Stephen Spender European translators to seminars and the of London, hosted a successful one-day in 1940.

Contacting the Trust For further information about the Stephen Spender Memorial Trust and its activities, please contact the Director of the Trust:

Robina Pelham Burn, 3 Old Wish Road, Eastbourne, East Sussex, BN21 4JX

01323 452294 [email protected] www.stephen-spender.org

Stephen Spender Prize 2007

The Stephen Spender Memorial Trust

Patrons Lady Antonia Fraser cbe, Lord Gowrie pc, Drue Heinz dbe, David Hockney ch, Wole Soyinka, Lady Spender

President Sir Michael Holroyd cbe*

Committee Lord Briggs, Valerie Eliot*, Professor Warwick Gould, Tony Harrison, Harriet Harvey Wood obe*, Josephine Hart, Seamus Heaney, Barry Humphries, Sir Frank Kermode, Christopher MacLehose, Caroline Moorehead cbe, Harold Pinter cbe, Lois Sieff obe*, Prudence Skene cbe*, Lizzie Spender, Matthew Spender, Philip Spender*, Saskia Spender, Richard Stone*, Sir Tom Stoppard om cbe, Professor John Sutherland, Ed Victor, Professor Daniel Weissbort

*Also a Trustee

Registered charity number 1101304 Company limited by guarantee number 4891164 Registered in England at 3 Old Wish Road, Eastbourne, East Sussex, BN21 4JX Cover image © the Estate of Humphrey Spender