Stephen Spender Prize 2008
for poetry in translation
Stephen Spender Prize 2008 for poetry in translation
Joint winners of the Winners of the Winners of the 14-and-under prize 18-and-under category Open category
Paula Alonso-Lalanda First First ‘Let’s Go to the Market!’ Daniel Galbraith Imogen Halstead by Gloria Fuertes Amores I.V Amores I.I (Spanish) by Ovid by Ovid (Latin) (Latin)
Scarlett Koller Second Second ‘Roundelay’ Iwona Luszowicz Jane Draycott by Charles d’Orléans ‘In Remembrance an extract from Pearl (French) of Marie A.’ (anon) by Bertolt Brecht (Middle English) (German)
Third Joint Third Rupert Mercer Emily Jeremiah Catullus VIII ‘Theorem’ (Latin) by Eeva-Liisa Manner (Finnish)
Timothy Allen an extract from ‘Broken Heart, New Lament’ by Nguyễn Du (Vietnamese)
Commended Commended Commended
Henry Bishop Arabella Currie Duncan Forbes Peter Rumney ‘Sleep, My Child’ ‘Eclipse’ by Archilochus and ‘To His Soul’ ‘Alone in Solitude’ by Elalongué Epanya Yondo ‘Cupid Does Not Have Wings’ by Hadrian by Petrarch (French) by Eubulus (Latin) (Italian) (Ancient Greek) Thomas Hughes Laura Napran The Rev Mervyn ‘Unsaid’ Daniel Galbraith ‘Snow’ Wilson by Aliette Audra ‘The Lay of Fáfnir’ by Cathal Ó an extract from (French) from Poetic Edda (anon) Searcaigh The Consolation (Old Norse) (Irish) of Philosophy by Boethius Katharine Gray John Richmond (Latin) ‘First Love’ ‘Boaz Asleep’ by Shimazaki Toson by Victor Hugo (Japanese) (French)
Oliver Moody ‘Copa Surisca’ (anon) (Latin)
Michael Warner Amores I.VI by Ovid (Latin) Introduction
The number of languages represented continues its inexorable unanimously selected as the winner of the 18-and-under category climb; the figure of 27 which seemed so impressive in 2005 looks that they ended up voting it the winner of the Open category – an paltry next to the 42 of 2008. While, as always, French, Spanish, unprecedented occurrence and a great achievement by 18-year-old Latin, German and Russian dominated, the judges were pleased to Imogen Halstead. see translations for the first time from Albanian, Belarusian, Hausa My thanks to judges Josephine Balmer, Susan Bassnett, Karen and Vietnamese. This year also brought what may be the shortest Leeder and Wynn Thomas, who read and made notes on every ever entry, a text message from Catullus: ‘I h8 + I luv. / Y, u may entry; to Erica Wagner, Literary Editor of The Times, for not only ask. I dunno. / But ’strue + kills me.’ publicising the prize in the Books section but also giving work The judges’ shortlists were reassuringly similar in the two experience to some of the younger winners; and to Hawthornden junior categories. Despite an initial lack of consensus in the Open Castle, where four previous winners, aged 20–75, spent three group, there were no fights, no raised voices (though a terse productive and cosseted weeks in April working on translation ‘rhythmically inert’ was heard as one judge vetoed a translation projects. The final vote of thanks must go to the Old Possum’s from Polish being championed by another), and from the disparate Practical Trust, for its generous financial support. shortlists emerged a list of winners with which all declared Robina Pelham Burn themselves happy. So impressed were the judges by the translation Director of the Stephen Spender Memorial Trust
Judges’ comments
In a splendidly wide- inventive versions of Ancient Greek lyric of around 30 or so entries that caught ranging year for The Times particularly outstanding. It was reassuring, our notice to varying degrees. Often the Stephen Spender prize too, to see translations of little-known, non- commentaries produced the most heart- – with entries offering examination texts such as Oliver Moody’s stopping moments as entrants related how gnomic four-line Welsh lively version of the late Latin ‘Copa Surisca’ their chosen texts had reverberated for folk verses alongside alongside Old Norse (another entry from them through the years, whether from novel-length Vietnamese the versatile Galbraith), while Iwona remembrance of a lost love or a grief that epics and entrants’ ages stretching from Luszowicz’s beautiful rendition of Brecht’s still haunted them decades later. Others 10 to 93 years – the true victor emerged German and Katharine Gray’s assured translated poems for a family occasion, as a familiar Spender favourite, the two- translation from Japanese – skilfully repli- such as a child’s wedding, or to bring their thousand-year-old verse of Latin poet cating the original’s strict syllabics – offered own pleasure in a work to a new, wider Ovid. The judges often debate the welcome attempts at contemporary texts. audience. All revealed the passion that our importance of choosing the right poem There were also some very interesting entrants feel for their poems year after year, to translate (not to mention the difficult choices from our youngest entrants. Scarlett making the task of judging so rewarding. but essential task of putting aside our Koller’s translation of Charles d’Orléans’s As previous Spender winner Jane Tozer own preferences – and prejudices – about ‘Rondel’ impressed with its attempt at the wrote on translating the Anglo-Norman such chosen originals). But although a original’s rhyme scheme. We also enjoyed romance Tristran – just one of many worthy translation can only be as good as its the verve of our youngest entrant Paula entries which caught the eye but, regrettably, source text, it is also the case that complex, Alonso-Lalanda’s ‘Let’s Go to the Market!’, narrowly missed out: ‘Memories that once multi-faceted texts, such as Ovid’s sinuous as well as the maturity of Thomas Hughes’ howled wolfishly now sing like Muses’. Amores, can prove treacherous for the version of French poet Aliette Audra, all of Josephine Balmer unwary or inexperienced translator, slipping which offered fine attempts at capturing the through their fingers as they try, in vain, to integrity of their original poems. Translating poetry well pin it down. Bearing this is in mind, the The Open category also fielded some requires a special talent. achievement of our overall prize winner, excellent versions of lesser known texts. A good translator has 18-year-old Imogen Halstead, is only Alongside Timothy’s Allen’s gripping Viet to be firstly a sensitive the greater, tackling Ovid’s notoriously namese tale, we were also very taken with reader, able to grasp the difficult metrical, mythological and literary Jane Draycott’s stately rendering of the Pearl nuances of the original in-jokes and references with an ease and poet’s Middle English and Emily Jeremiah’s writer and to comprehend maturity beyond her years. She provided delicate interpretation of Eeva-Liisa the way in which the poem is structured. one of the best entries of this and indeed Manner’s ethereal Finnish (I also admired Then the translator has to build upon any year, outclassing, as our final judging Adrian Pascu-Tulbure’s compelling that reading and recreate the poem in shows, even the many fine adult entries. translation of George Topârceanu’s another language, taking care to remain Ovid triumphed again in the 18-and- Romanian and Roger Cockrell’s of Joseph close, though not slavishly so, to the under category where Daniel Galbraith’s Brodsky’s Russian, although both failed to original while not sacrificing good poetry almost equally fine version of Amores 1.5 make the final cut). In contrast, Duncan on the altar of literalness. In short, a good admirably captured the playful sensuality of Forbes took a well known, almost clichéd translator of poetry has to be Janus-faced, the original. As in previous years, classical text, Hadrian’s poem to his soul, and made looking backwards at the original, forwards entries here remained the most consistently it new again with great verve. But with towards a new set of readers. The success impressive, with Rupert Mercer’s refreshingly few outstanding entries, the competition of the poem in translation is entirely the teasing Catullus VIII and Arabella Currie’s was indeed open this year with a core responsibility of the translator.
Judges’ comments
This year, there was one outstandingly good The 14-and-under cate cheek lyricism. One also has to admire a translation, incredibly produced by someone gory produced a small contestant who goes through at the end who is only 18. What makes this so good number of excellent striking all their ‘long-losts’, ‘bygones’ and is that the translator has struck just the entries of very different ‘erstwhiles’. Absolutely right: and very right balance, demonstrating a thorough kinds. Scarlett Koller’s Brechtian to boot. The third place prize understanding of the original and able to translation from French winner Rupert Mercer produced another construct a poem that works brilliantly in of the highly-wrought wonderfully confident modern version of English. That the author was writing 2,000 ‘Rondel’ by Charles d’Orléans showed the classics, this time of Catullus’ half- years ago adds to the problems the translator great ingenuity in this most challenging serious half-mocking Poem VIII and had to face, for when a poem comes from a of forms, the roundelay. But equally, the an excellent commentary. Among the culture distant in time as well as place, the judges were beguiled by the genuine sense commended translations perhaps I could task of the translator is so much harder. The of fun and freshness of Paula Alonso- single out Arabella Currie’s wonderfully principle decision to take is whether to try Lalanda’s translation from Spanish of ‘Let’s vivid translation from Ancient Greek and modernise the poem or to try and convey Go to the Market!’ by Gloria Fuertes. of ‘Eclipse’ by Archilochus. I certainly a sense of its antiquity in some other way. The commentary which accompanied the missed this on a first reading, but coming The judges noted that this year there were poem explained that Paula’s classmates had back to it discovered a real poetic talent at some very fine translations of ancient poetry, enjoyed the poem’s craziness. The judges work: ‘the sun in blackness like / a coin and all those we singled out had decided on did too. It is excellent to know that pleasure behind a thumbprint’. Someone to watch. a contemporary recreation. We even had one in sound and wordplay is reaching the I was also delighted to be introduced to translation wittily written as a text message. classroom in this way. the Afrikaans poet Breton Breytenbach, The range of languages submitted this The 18-and-under category demonstrated in Jenny Harris’s translation, though I year was wider than ever, the selection of an extraordinary strength this year, across couldn’t quite manage to persuade my poems very broad ranging, with some tiny the board, but especially in the Classical fellow judges of its final merits. poems such as the splendid Latin poem by languages. It seems that as the A level The judges were delighted that, the Emperor Hadrian and some extended modern languages boards banish literature exceptionally, another of the 18-and-under narrative poems. In making our final from their syllabuses one by one, this is Classical poems won through to triumph in assessment we took account of the different where the passion for poetry has taken the Open category too. Imogen Halstead’s kinds of difficulty: sometimes a short poem root. All the judges noted the way many translation of Ovid’s Amores I.I is certainly in what appears to be simple language can entrants had been demonstrably touched publishable – with a breathtaking metrical be extremely difficult if not impossible to by a particular poem from a distant culture, confidence. The Open is always the most translate, for the simplicity is deceptive. but importantly had been determined to difficult to judge, because this is where Narrative verse presents another set of make it their own in a modern idiom almost inevitably, and despite one’s best problems, for this is a convention that is not (even to the point of a memorable SMS efforts, one’s own personal experience and in the contemporary mainstream in English. version of Catullus in the Open category taste come to bear. I was interested to We admired the way some translators had by Daniel Watkins). But the commentaries note that it was almost always possible to selected extracts from longer poems, such also demonstrated that this is where the tell after reading the English version what as the translation from old Norse and the basic mechanics of reading poetry are still language the original had been written extract from Pearl. This involves a lot of being reliably taught (rhyme, scansion, etc in. My own tastes have been schooled thought and careful editing, which we felt – things often disastrously amiss in the by the spare diction of the German and deserved to be acknowledged. Open category). East European traditions and I know Sadly, the impact of the government’s I loved Daniel Galbraith’s translation I find it harder to warm to the highly decision to take literature out of modern from Latin of Ovid’s Amores I.V for its wrought voices from the Russian or the language A levels is starting to appear sheer sexiness, so cleverly caught in the French, for example (perhaps also why I in the submissions, though paradoxically, sound-shapes of the poem. As soon as I pushed for Peer Rumney’s rather bleak the emphasis on textual commentary in A had read ‘The shutters were half open-half version of Petrarch to be commended). I level Classics is reflected in some of the closed, / With a quasi-lumberlight, a dusky am, though, always pleased to be proved very fine translations and commentaries of light, a day-to-night light’, I knew this was a wrong. This year it was Jane Draycott’s ancient texts. potential winner. I was particularly pleased delicate and exquisitely rendered Pearl that What I love about this judging process to see Iwona Luszowicz’s translation of grew on me especially and I was pleased is not only the pleasure of reading the Brecht’s ‘In Remembrance of Marie A.’ in to be introduced by Emily Jeremiah to the great variety of work submitted but the second place. This deceptively simple poem Finnish of Eeva-Liisa Manner and in Laura often very moving personal stories that is extremely difficult to translate. I know Napran’s sensitive translation to the Irish some translators generously share with us because I have tried it. Iwona first heard the of ‘Snow’ by Cathal Ó Searcaigh. But the in their commentaries. This demonstrates poem in the Oscar-winning film The Lives real surprise for me was Timothy Allen’s more clearly than anything else could how of Others and tracked it down to translate marvellously lyrical translation of an extract important translation is to so many people. it. What she perhaps doesn’t know is that from Nguyễn Du’s ‘Broken Heart, New When you translate a poem, you enter into it is also set to music and that despite the Lament’, the Vietnamese national poem. its world, and that world may hold a special old man persona of the poem, Brecht wrote This is poetry from a tradition completely significance which you seek to share. The this when he was young and cheekily gave foreign to the English ear and with quite good translator is someone who has a special it an alternative title ‘Sentimental Song No. different demands. I enjoyed the way the relationship with a poem written in another 1004’ (one more than Don Juan’s legendary translator had set about finding a solution language and is then able to make a reader conquests). Instinctively – and doubtless for the ‘rhyming’ of sharp and flat tones who is unacquainted with the original feel with much hard work too – she managed which simply has no meaning in a non- that the poem is also theirs. to capture the rhymes and rhythms of tonal language. The beautifully unobtrusive Susan Bassnett the piece and also that slightly tongue in sound structure of the poem and its air of
Judges’ comments
mystery, strangeness even, mean that it is As for the commentaries, they were as ‘La Vache au Taureau’ (‘The Cow Put certainly a poem and a voice that deserve unpredictable and compelling as ever. For to the Bull’) may have failed to find to be better known in English. one candidate, translation was an act of widespread support, but I admired Karen Leeder solidarity with a marginalised indigenous its deft deployment of rhyme in the people; for another, it constituted an act of telling a basic, age-old story. Rimbaud’s ‘Corbies’ that attempt to bring Finnish to wider attention. Once again, I somewhat grudgingly gather ‘About the stiff The lack of a Belarusian dictionary recognised that quality of original text of last week’s dead / By was complained of; long-lost love was did have a bearing on one’s response thousands in the fields touchingly commemorated. Poetry to translation. Even the fond kiss of of France’ (John Turner); a demonstrated its power to survive even a besotted translator repeatedly failed powerfully rendered pass the obscenities of the concentration camps to magic a plain, dowdy original into age from Ibsen’s Peer Gynt and the terrors of the Kobe earthquake. seductive translated form. (Edwin Gaarder); and a brilliant attempt Differently impressive were the subtle Poetry may not travel as comfortably to relate Ovid’s account of creation in the characterisations of individual lyrics and across linguistic and cultural boundaries Metamorphoses to the Big Bang (Ian Mims) the trenchant discussions of the issue as do art and music, but translation is an are among the exercises, outside of those by of form that accompanied some entries. indispensable servant of its aspiration, the prize winners, that stuck in my mind Notable sensitivity, and critical acumen, at least, to do so. As the best of these this year. Once again ingenuity (Catullus in was exhibited by some in their thoughtful entries demonstrate, it can sometimes text-message form) rubbed shoulders with selection of passages for translation from survive the journey in tolerable shape, both impudence (‘Colombina / [Likes it in much longer works. There was much although somewhat culture-lagged, no her]’) and pathos (‘An old couple – Two old becoming modesty and the occasional doubt, a little tongue-tied, still struggling weather-worn, discarded, broken toys’). glimpse of ill-advised self-confidence. with the currency, and not altogether The vivacity of several attempts in the Particularly taken by the translation by comfortable with the mores. And even 14-and-under competition put the stodgy Jane Draycott of Middle English passages when it arrives more dead than alive, literalism of many of the efforts of the adult from Pearl, I was struck by how a mundane as, sadly, happens not infrequently, its age group to shame, while the notably high contemporary event – the ‘loss’ of a child on attempt can still have something of the quality of the Latin translations in the 18- departure for university – could summon heroic about it. It is therefore good and-under section suggested that Classics resonant new music from an old, usually to know that competitions like the continues to be a potent field of study in rather musty, song. Elsewhere, I found Spender Prize still offer the incentive some schools, at least. Effective translation attempts at translating narrative verse of a passport, and gratifying to see how from Spanish remained a particularly elusive particularly welcome, not least because they many apply for one, year after year. goal: some attempts read as if Grand Opera challenged the tedious modern monopoly of had been reduced to Gilbert and Sullivan. lyric. Philip Higson’s version of Rollinat’s M. Wynn Thomas
Joint winner of the 14-and-under prize
¡A La Feria! Let’s Go to the Market!
Un duro nos queda; If you only have a penny, No te pongas seria That’s not many Y vete a la feria Don’t get serious, just stop, Remember we’re going to a shop. Compra una oveja; Si no la quieres blanca, Buy yourself a lamb or a sheep Cómprala negra. But make sure that it is cheap Black or white it doesn’t matter Compra un borrico; It can be thin or a bit fatter. Si no lo quieres grande, cómpralo chico. Buy yourself a donkey Make sure it’s not a monkey Compra un carrarro; Short or long, even plump or skinny Si no lo quieres de lata, Or even maybe big or mini. Cómpralo de barro. Buy yourself pots and pans Compra unas botas; Tin’s great so get it if you can Si no las quieres nuevas, Pans and pots made of clay Cómpralas rotas. So don’t just turn away.
Compra un capacho, Buy yourself a pair of shoes Sombrerito de niña Go to the shop so you can choose O de muchacho. Get them new or even old Buy them creased or without a fold. Gloria Fuertes Buy yourself a nice new bag Or a hat that has still got its tag For any gender girl or boy It is there for you to enjoy.
Translated from the Spanish by Paula Alonso-Lalanda
Paula Alonso-Lalanda’s commentary
I am English and I live in England and in her poems don’t even make sense but I don’t think I have made a perfect both my parents are Spanish so we speak the stories make me laugh! translation but I think Mrs Fuertes would Spanish at home. It was not easy to turn her poem into have liked it because I showed it to my My mum used to read Gloria Fuertes’ English so I just tried to imagine how friends at school and they thought it was poems to me when I was younger and I would Gloria Fuertes have written the funny and a bit crazy and I know myself always thought they were funny. I think poem if she had written it in English. She that the story is still the same. Gloria Fuertes likes to play with words wouldn’t like the words not to rhyme and just like children do. Many of the words the story had to be quite silly too.
Joint winner of the 14-and-under prize
Rondel Roundelay
Le temps a laissé son manteau Now has the weather dropped his veil De vent, de froidure et de pluie, Of howling wind, cold, rain and hail, Et s’est vêtu de broderie And robed himself in radiant trail De soleil rayant, clair et beau. Of pure, clean and brilliant sun. Il n’y a bête ni oiseau Not a single bird or faun Qu’en son jargon ne chante ou crie : Does in his cant not call or trill; Le temps a laissé son manteau Now has the weather dropped his veil De vent, de froidure et de pluie. Of howling wind, cold, rain and hail. Rivière, fontaine et ruisseau River, spring and rushing run Portent en livrée jolie All in shining liv’ry tail’d Gouttes d’argent d’orfévrerie ; In drops of glorious silver mail; Chacun s’habille de nouveau. Each dresses himself once again. Le temps a laissé son manteau Now has the weather dropped his veil De vent, de froidure et de pluie. Of howling wind, cold, rain, and hail.
Charles d’Orléans Translated from the French by Scarlett Kolle
Scarlett Koller’s commentary
When I was told of the prize in school, I never be as good in translation as the find was ‘roundelay’. Also, orfévrerie decided to enter it because I love literature original, and as I am something of a does not appear in many French–English and languages, and this prize combined perfectionist, I found it difficult to cope dictionaries and I could only find it in an the two. I chose to translate a French with. I also had some problems in that old French dictionary which defined it poem because I have spoken French rondel is a specific form of fifteenth as a silver- or goldsmith’s shop or gold/ nearly all my life as a second language, century French poetry involving only silver plating. As the poem is very much and I find it a beautifully descriptive two rhymes, and the English language, emphasised by the rhyme and metre of tongue. I found a very old book in the while comprising many words, does not the rondel form, I have attempted to school library entitled Les Cent Meilleurs always have a word to fit the metre and preserve the original form as much as Poèmes de la Langue Française. I read the the rhyme in question. Some words were possible. However, for rhyming I was book, and soon found this poem, which I somewhat archaic, and it was only with forced to use some slant rhymes after particularly enjoyed. difficulty that I could find them in an changing the word order many times. In I encountered several problems in old French dictionary. Rondel does not French, there are many more words that translating this poem. One problem appear to have any specific translation share endings than in English, which was the inevitability that any poem will into English; the closest word I could made the translation slightly harder.
Winners of the 18-and-under category
Amores I.V Amores I.V
Aestus erat, mediamque dies exegerat horam; It was a scorcher – a sweltering afternoon. adposui medio membra levanda toro. I reclined on the couch. pars adaperta fuit, pars altera clausa fenestrae; There shutters were half-open-half-closed, quale fere silvae lumen habere solent, With a quasi-lumberlight, qualia sublucent fugiente crepuscula Phoebo, A dusky light, a day-to-night light aut ubi nox abiit, nec tamen orta dies. Or a dawny light, a night-to-day light. illa verecundis lux est praebenda puellis, Shy girls require this haziness: qua timidus latebras speret habere pudor. In it they want to hide their bashfulness. ecce, Corinna venit, tunica velata recincta, candida dividua colla tegente coma, Look – Corinna! Loosely dressed qualiter in thalamos formosa Semiramis isse With parted hair tucked over her ivory neck dicitur, et multis Lais amata viris. Like sexy Semiramis, the exotic Queen deripui tunicam; nec multum rara nocebat, Or loose Lais, the harlot. pugnabat tunica sed tamen illa tegi. I tore off her scanty tunic, quae cum ita pugnaret, tamquam quae vincere nollet, But she grabbed it back – victa est non aegre proditione sua. Albeit half-heartedly, and so ut stetit ante oculos posito velamine nostros, I was the victor, she self-betrayed. in toto nusquam corpore menda fuit. quos umeros, quales vidi tetigique lacertos! There she was in front of me, nude; forma papillarum quam fuit apta premi! On her body no blemish to be seen. quam castigato planus sub pectore venter! Oh, what shapely shoulders! quantum et quale latus! quam iuvenale femur! What arms I’ve seen and touched! singula quid referam? nil non laudabile vidi, What curvaceous breasts, fit to be caressed! et nudam pressi corpus ad usque meum. Her smooth belly below her elegant bosom! cetera quis nescit? lassi requievimus ambo. What a long, slender side! What a thrilling thigh! proveniant medii sic mihi saepe dies! But why single out fragments of her form? Nothing was unworthy of praise. Ovid At last I clasped her naked form to mine. You can fill in the rest yourself. Then, breathless, we both eased up. Oh, let every noontime turn out like this for me!
Translated from the Latin by Daniel Galbraith
Daniel Galbraith’s commentary
I chose to translate this poem as it is have been too rigid for the subject matter. willing to sacrifice this in order to achieve my favourite of the selection from Ovid’s I separated the poem on the page into the sound I wanted. Amores that we are studying for A level stanzas, which I thought emphasised the One problem I encountered was how to Latin. I find it particularly striking because dramatic unfolding of the action. retain Ovid’s clever, teasing way of leaving of its filmic nature and the vividness of the Sonority was also important for me a lot up to the reader’s imagination – it was picture Ovid paints for us of the seduction when translating this, as I tried to evoke the difficult to encapsulate this suggestiveness, scene: we get a real sense of his pleasure in languid sensuality of the scene through the and I have ended up with something more describing the moments before the act of sounds of the words themselves; eg ‘quasi- direct and explicit; eg ‘loose Lais, the love, but also his tongue-in-cheek wit and lumberlight’ which to an extent reflects harlot’ for ‘multis Lais amata viris’ (12). skill as a poet. the Latin ‘quale…silvae lumen’ (4). I also On the other hand this phrase is a definite I decided to opt for a rather more used alliteration, perhaps even more than undercut, so I was keen to draw attention loose approach to translating the Latin Ovid, to aim for a similar effect – eg ‘sexy to the line. Another issue was whether to than usual, as I felt it was more faithful Semiramis’ for ‘formosa Semiramis isse’ keep the level of detail in the translation; in to the mood and tone of the poem. For (11), or ‘thrilling thigh’ for ‘iuvenale femur’ the end I chose to favour compression and this reason also I decided to choose free (22). However, this meant that I lost some succinctness over precise correspondence verse – in my view blank verse would exactness of meaning; nevertheless I was (hence lines 5–6 of the translation).
Winners of the 18-and-under category
Erinnerung an die Marie A. In Remembrance of Marie A.
An jenem Tag im blauen Mond September There was a day, a day in blue September, Still unter einem jungen Pflaumenbaum When under a plum tree’s boughs afresh with green Da hielt ich sie, die stille bleiche Liebe Encircled by my arms I gently held her: In meinem Arm wie einen holden Traum. My love, so still and pale she seemed a dream. Und über uns im schönen Sommerhimmel Above us in the searing sky of summer War eine Wolke, die ich lange sah There was a cloud my eyes long lingered on Sie war sehr weiß und ungeheur oben It was so white and higher than all the others Und als ich aufsah, war sie nimmer da. And, when I looked back, was already gone.
Seit jenem Tag sind viele, viele Monde Since that day’s close so many moons in silence Geschwommen still hinunter und vorbei. Have swum across the sky and sunk below. Die Pflaumenbäume sind wohl abgehauen No doubt the plum trees too, by now, are fallen Und fragst du mich, was mit der Liebe sei? But what befell my love, you want to know? So sag ich dir: ich kann mich nicht erinnern I must admit, I cannot quite remember Und doch, gewiß, ich weiß schon, was du And yet I do know what you’re trying to say. meinst. As for her face, I really can’t recall it Doch ihr Gesicht, das weiß ich wirklich nimmer I only know: I kissed it some blue day. Ich weiß nur mehr: ich küßte es dereinst. The kiss, the kiss, I would have long forgotten it Und auch den Kuß, ich hätt ihn längst vergessen But for that cloud I saw up in the sky Wenn nicht die Wolke dagewesen wär The cloud I know still, and will know forever Die weiß ich noch und werd ich immer wissen It was so white and came down from on high. Sie war sehr weiß und kam von oben her. Perhaps the plum trees, even now, are flowering Die Pflaumenbäume blühn vielleicht noch immer The woman might have her seventh child to raise Und jene Frau hat jetzt vielleicht das siebte Kind And yet the cloud, it only flowered for minutes Doch jene Wolke blühte nur Minuten And, as I looked back, vanished in the haze. Und als ich aufsah, schwand sie schon im Wind. Translated from the German Bertolt Brecht by Iwona Luszowicz
Iwona Luszowicz’s commentary
I first encountered this poem while watching scheme, their regularity reinforcing, at least of ‘searing sky’ to try to convey the sense the film Das Leben der Anderen. The for me, the sad inevitability of the cloud’s of the original. relatively simple way in which Brecht passing. There are instances – such as the A further difficulty consisted in portrays the cloud’s transience lends the half-rhyme of ‘green’ and ‘dream’ – where I overcoming my tendency to use overly poem an understated beauty which struck me have not been successful in my aim to stick nostalgic words and phrases, which are immediately; it was this beauty that came to exactly to the original regularity, or where absent in the original and which gave my mind when I was trying to decide on a poem I have had to use periphrasis, metri gratia, first draft a self-absorbed, self-pitying tone to translate, and the task of trying to transfer though I would rather not have done so (e.g. quite unlike Brecht’s. Consequently, all the essence of the original into English seemed the trees are ‘afresh with green’ as opposed the ‘long-losts’, ‘bygones’ and ‘erstwhiles’ as if it could be a fulfilling one. to simply ‘young’). Equally, I could not I originally included had to go; I hope The factor that made translating the come up with an appropriate two-syllable that the tone of my final draft is more in poem most difficult was my decision to word to directly translate schönen (line keeping with that which Brecht originally stick to the original rhythm and rhyme- five), using instead the transferred epithet intended.
10 Winners of the 18-and-under category
Poem VIII Poem VIII
Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire, Pack it in, Catullus, stop beating yourself up. et quod vides perisse perditum ducas. It’s over – forget it. Fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles, Only a few weeks ago, you thought it was all perfect cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat And you loved her like no one had ever been loved before. amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla; But she led you on and you just couldn’t see it. ibi illa multa cum iocosa fiebant, It was all sex and sweet nothings quae tu volebas nec puella nolebat, When she gave you exactly what you wanted. fulsere vere candidi tibi soles. Yes, it was bliss. Nunc iam illa non volt; tu quoque impotens noli, nec quae fugit sectare, nec miser vive, But she’s a woman. sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura. And now she’s gone off the boil. Vale, puella. Iam Catullus obdurat, Play her at her own game and stop hoping, stop wishing nec to requiret nec rogabit invitam. That the clock can be turned back. At tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla. So get the hell out of my life, I’ll chase you no more: Scelesta, vae te, quae tibi manet vita? I don’t want to sniff after you like a dog. Quis nunc te adibit? Cui videberis bella? Quem nunc amabis? Cuius esse diceris? But just you wait. Quem basiabis? Cui labella mordebis? It’ll all go wrong for you, you whore. At tu, Catulle, destinatus obdura. When you lose your looks, what will be left to you? Who’ll chase you then? Who’ll admire you? Catullus Love you and be loved by you? Who will you coil yourself around then?
Stop it, Catullus! Put it behind you, move on.
Translated from the Latin by Rupert Mercer
Rupert Mercer’s commentary
Recently, I read Helen Dunmore’s quondam as ‘only a few weeks ago’, the translated as ‘whore’ led me to conclude Counting the Stars, a vivid fictional reader can feel how raw these feelings are and that farewell was too gentle for vale. account of the trajectory of Catullus’ how Catullus is still both in love and lust with The rhetorical questions he asks towards affair with the married ‘Lesbia’. The novel his faithless mistress: ‘yes, it was bliss’. I have the end of the poem suggest that he suspects made me return me to the poems with inserted a break in the verse after this to imply that, far from being lonely, Lesbia will never fresh eyes, appreciating their ageless theme the remembrance of happier times. be short of male company. I also felt that he of the paradoxical nature of love. Poem These memories are then interrupted by is torturing himself with memories of when VIII, with its mingled determination and harsh reality, and I felt instinctively that he was the one touching and kissing her and desolation, is one of my favourites. Catullus’ anger and contempt with himself the suggestion of a serpent coiling around I have translated it in free verse, feeling that for his self indulgence would be reflected her prey seemed a fitting way to recall him this would be a more flexible and modern in bitterness against his lover, hence the to reality. The punctuation of the last line way to convey the poet’s shifting moods. dismissive tone of ‘she’s a woman’, although and introduction of an exclamation mark I have also taken liberties with the punctu- this is nowhere in the original. Again, signal a return to pragmatism and the end ation for the same reason. By translating the vicious tone of scelesta which I have of the poem.
11 Winners of the Open category
Amores 1.1 Amores 1.1
Arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabam As I was writing solemn metre Edere, materia conveniente modis. Of violent wars and slaughter, Par erat inferior versus: risisse Cupido Cupid, snickering, stole a foot Dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem. And made the next line shorter. So thus my war-like drumbeat changed ‘Quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris? To Love’s inferior measure Pieridum vates, non tua turba sumus. And I, a bard, was so demeaned Quid, si praeripiat flavae Venus arma Minervae, For Cupid’s idle leisure. Ventilet accensas flava Minerva faces? ‘What’s this?’ I cried, ‘Who gave the right Quis probet in silvis Cererem regnare iugosis, Of meddling to you, boy? The Muses rule my lofty verse, Lege pharetratae virginis arva coli? It’s not your nursery toy! Crinibus insignem quis acuta cuspide Phoebum Should Venus seize the arms of war Instruat, Aoniam Marte movente lyram? While Hera fans Love’s flames? Sunt tibi magna, puer, nimiumque potentia regna; Or Ceres rule the wooded hills, Cur opus adfectas, ambitiose, novum? Diana till the plains? Apollo with his shining locks An, quod ubique, tuum est? tua sunt Heliconia tempe? Could not take up the spear, Vix etiam Phoebo iam lyra tuta sua est? While Mars attempts to tune the lyre Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina primo, With war-cry deafened ear. Attenuat nervos proximus ille meos; But, Cupid, you already rule Nec mihi materia est numeris levioribus apta, A great and powerful sphere, Why then should you aspire to change Aut puer aut longas compta puella comas.’ My verse? Why interfere? Questus eram, pharetra cum protinus ille soluta Perhaps your realm now covers all Legit in exitium spicula facta meum, To Helicon’s leafy dell. Lunavitque genu sinuosum fortiter arcum, Is Phoebus’ lyre no longer safe? ‘Quod’ que ‘canas, vates, accipe’ dixit ‘opus!’ Will that be yours as well? Each time that I begin my page Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille sagittas. And write in warlike length, Uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor. The second line cuts short too soon Sex mihi surgat opus numeris, in quinque residat: And undermines my strength. Ferrea cum vestris bella valete modis! Besides, I lack a fitting theme Cingere litorea flaventia tempora myrto, For Love’s less weighty beat, I have no long-haired boy or girl Musa, per undenos emodulanda pedes! To make my verse complete.’ No sooner had I thus complained Ovid When Cupid snatched a dart, An arrow made to seal my fate And destined for my heart. He curved the bow across his knee, And speaking thus, he drew: ‘O Bard, take this to be your theme!’ And out the arrow flew. Alas! That boy has piercing shots, Unerring did he fire, And now in my once empty heart Roar flames of my desire. So let my work in six feet rise, And fall in five once more, I bid farewell to epic themes, I’ll write of Love not War. Come, wreathe your golden brow, my Muse, With myrtle of the sea, My verse will scan eleven feet I’ll bow to elegy!
Translated from the Latin by Imogen Halstead
12 Imogen Halstead’s commentary
I chose this poem because I love Ovid’s line he transforms the metre into elegiac heroic diction of the Aeneid’s opening facetious, irreverent style. I felt it would couplets, the metre of love poetry. I tried to which would immediately link the two translate well into English as much of the convey Ovid’s derision of ‘lighter’ metres works in the minds of his audience. This is humour comes through the incongruous and their subject matter by including lines not so prominent in the English; however, situation, a poet being compelled to 5–8 (‘So thus…idle leisure’) of my own I tried to make the link through the word write against his will, rather than word composition. I hope this also explains the ‘epic’ used later on. play. However, the poem presents some change of form which Cupid has caused I tried to maintain Ovid’s light-hearted difficulties in translation as the main joke with his interference. I attempted to convey style by adopting a bouncy rhythm for my of the poem is based around the necessity Ovid’s self-parody of his pride by using translation. In keeping to a regular metre of using particular metres for different the archaic word ‘bard’. Similarly, I hope and rhyme scheme I have attempted to styles of Latin poetry. Ovid claims he to have conveyed his derision of Cupid indicate the strict scansion of the poet’s wants to write of ‘violent wars’, a subject through the references to his youth such elegiac couplets. It is hard to do justice to which would require the weighty dactylic as ‘nursery toy’. There are other allusions the clever construction of Ovid’s verse but hexameter of epic. Cupid has different ideas which are hard to bring across to a modern I hope I have managed to convey the mood and by ‘stealing a foot’ from every second audience. In the first line Ovid uses the and general sense of fun.
13 Winners of the Open category
Pearl (Section IV: lines 181–240) Pearl (an extract)
More þen me lyste my drede aros. Then fiercer than longing came the fear. I stod ful stylle and dorste not calle; I didn’t stir or dare to call Wyth y en open and mouth ful closd to her: wide-eyed and silent as a hawk I stod as hende as hawk in halle. in a great hall I waited there. I hoped þat gostly wat þat porpose; I knew that what I saw was spirit I dred onende quat schulde byfalle, and I feared for what might follow – Lest ho me eschaped þat I þer chos, that within my sight she’d disappear Er I at steuen hir mo t stalle. before I could come close to her. Þat gracios gay wythouten galle, So smooth, so small, so delicate, So smoþe, so smal, so seme sly t, this graceful, innocent girl now rose Ryse vp in hir araye ryalle, before me in her royal robes, A precios pyece in perle py3t. a precious creature set with pearls. Perle py te of ryal prys Þere mo t mon by grace haf sene, Now, like a vision granted, showered Quen þat frech as flor-de-lys in a setting of jewels fit for a queen Doun þe bonke con bo e bydene. this child as fresh as a lily-flower Al blysnande whyt wat hir beau biys, stepped downward towards the stream. Vpon at syde , and bounden bene The fine white linen she wore seemed woven Wyth þe myryeste margarys, at my deuyse, with light and where its sides hung open Þat euer I se et with myn ene; was laced with borders of pearls far paler Wyth lappe large, I wot and I wene, and prettier than any I’d seen before. Dubbed with double perle and dy te; The sleeves of her robe fell long and low, Her cortel of self sute schene, stitched in with double rows of pearls; Wyth precios perle al vmbepy te. her skirts of the same fine linen were trimmed and seeded all over with precious gems. A py t coroune et wer þat gyrle Of mariorys and non oþer ston. But the girl wore one thing more: a crown Hi e pynakled of cler quyt perle, composed entirely of ice-bright pearls Wyth flurted flowre perfet vpon. and no other stone, tipped and figured To hed hade ho non oþer werle; with flowers, each petal set with a perfect gem. Her here leke, al hyr vmbegon, She wore no other decoration Her semblaunt sade for doc oþer erle, in her hair which in its falling framed Her ble more bla t þen whalle bon. a face as white as ivory As schorne golde schyr her fax þenne schon, and noble in its gravity. On schyldere þat leghe vnlapped ly te. Her hair like hand-worked gold shone Her depe colour et wonted non and flowed unbound around her shoulders, Of precios perle in porfyl py te. the chalk-white pallor of her skin as pure as all the fine-set pearls she wore.
14 Winners of the Open category
Py t wat poyned and vche a hemme Where her skin met the white of the linen At honde, at syde , at ouerture, at her wrists, her throat and on every hem, Wyth whyte perle and non oþer gemme, were set pearls with the pallor of no other stone. And bornyste quyte wat hyr uesture. The whole dress shone like an icy stream Bot a wonder perle wythouten wemme and there at the heart of it all on her breast Inmydde hyr breste wat sette so sure; lay a single immaculate pearl far greater A manne dom mo t dry ly demme, than all the rest. To tell its true measure Er mynde mo t malte in hit mesure. or worth would test a man’s mind to the limit – I hope no tong mo t endure I swear no singer however inspired No sauerly saghe say of þat sy t, could summon the words to capture the sight So wat hit clene and cler and pure, of that pearl, so perfect, so faultless, so pale Þat precios perle þer hit wat py t. and placed in the most precious setting of all.
Py t in perle, þat precios pyece I watched as this dearest creature set On wyþer half water com doun þe schore. with jewels walked at the water’s edge No gladder gome heþen into Grece towards me: no man was happier from here Þen I, quen ho on brymme wore. to Greece at the moment she came so near. Ho wat me nerre þen aunte or nece; For that girl was closer to my heart My joy forþy wat much þe more. than aunt or niece, and the joy that I felt Ho profered me speche, þat special spece, far deeper. Inclining her lovely head Enclynande lowe in wommon lore, with all the grace of a lady, she bowed Ca te of her coroun of grete tresore and took off her jewel-encrusted crown: And haylsed me wyth a lote ly te. with joy in her voice she bade me welcome. Wel wat me þat euer I wat bore That I had lived to speak to her To sware þat swete in perle py te! was heaven itself. My girl, this pearl.
Anon Translated from the Middle English by Jane Draycott
Jane Draycott’s commentary
The 14th century dream-vision Pearl is one actual dreams as the conventional literary echoing character while retaining a clear of the British Library’s greatest treasures – no kind. What is more, his English is not connection with other aspects of the poem’s one reading the poem in the original could that mysterious, but lies quite visible, if harmonic patterning – the tetrametric line, fail to be moved by the vivid expression of somewhat wobbly and indistinct, like the concatenatio of chain-linking phrases, grief with which the poem is charged from stones at the bottom of a stream. One of and in particular the drive and energy of the the very first stanza, and which connects the the most significant difficulties has been to poet’s alliterative phrasing. modern reader to the poet’s experience like resist the mesmeric appeal of some of that As a parent of daughters about to leave an electric arc across the centuries. Yet like just-about-accessible diction and syntax, home, and as someone who has written the lost pearl/girl of its narrative, the poem and of the poem’s powerfully end-stopped more than my own fair share of poems still remains tantalisingly beyond the reach of rhythms, double stitched into place by the about loss in the past, working at close today’s general reader, other than in scholarly strongly audible rhyme-scheme. quarters with the Pearl poet has felt to me versions. That seems a terrible shame. In trying to relay my own experience more like an extraordinary arrival than a The Pearl poet appears very close, of the poem for a modern ear, I have departure, even though this is the first piece and his dream world as much like our deliberately aimed towards a more fluid and of translation I have undertaken.
15 Winners of the Open category
Teoreema Theorem
Proosa olkoon kovaa, se herättäköön levottomuutta. Let prose be hard, let it provoke unease. Mutta runo on kaiku joka kuullaan, kun elämä on mykkää: But the poem is an echo that is heard when life is mute:
vuorilla liukuvat varjot: tuulen ja pilvien kuva, shadows gliding on mountains; the image of wind and cloud, savun kulku tai elämän: kirkas, hämärä, kirkas, the passage of smoke or life: bright, dusky, bright,
hiljaa virtaava joki, syvät pilviset metsät, a river flowing silent, deep cloudy forests, hitaasti maatuvat talot, lämpöä huokuvat kujat, houses mouldering slowly, lanes radiating heat,
hauraaksi kulunut kynnys, varjon hiljaisuus, a worn-down threshold, the stillness of shadow, lapsen pelokas askel huoneen hämäryyteen, a child’s timorous step into the darkness of the room,
kirje joka tulee kaukaa ja työnnetään oven ali, a letter that comes from afar and is pushed under the door, niin suuri ja valkea että se täyttää talon, so big and white that it fills the house,
tai päivä niin jäykkä ja kirkas että voi kuulla or a day so stiff and bright that you can hear miten aurinko naulaa umpeen aution sinisen oven. how the sun nails shut the abandoned blue door.
by Eeva-Liisa Manner Translated from the Finnish by Emily Jeremiah
Emily Jeremiah’s commentary
The poems of Eeva-Liisa Manner (1921–95) choose between ‘a’ or ‘the’. Another potential Stillness seems to me a general characteristic are lucid yet mysterious. They are haunted problem is the lack of genders in Finnish; of shadow, whereas the ‘threshold’ of the by echoes, steps, shadows, reflections; but the pronoun hän can mean ‘he’ or ‘she’. poem gains power from its particularity, its they evoke ghostliness with utter clarity. A further challenge is presented by the singularity. And yet, I have ‘the door/house/ I wanted to translate ‘Theorem’ because frequent use of the passive voice in Finnish; sun/blue door’, since there could only be one as well as being characteristic of Manner’s yet another, by the many references in Finnish of each item in the world that the poem is oeuvre in terms of its style and imagery, it texts to geographical features and varieties of evoking and establishing. offers an aesthetic manifesto, a ‘theorem’ (for example) fish and berries, which may not In this way, translating this poem raises pertaining to poetry. I am also motivated by be known to the Anglophone reader. philosophical questions regarding the nature the fact that Manner’s work is shamefully The first issue is salient here. In this of the particular and the general: appropriate, little known outside of Finland. translation, I opted for ‘the poem’ (not since Manner is often interested in such issues. When translating from Finnish, a key ‘a’), since this is a ‘theorem’, a generalising I define my approach to her work as respectful challenge is posed by the lack of articles in pronouncement. Later, I have ‘a worn-down but vigorous: sensitive both to the original and the source language. The translator must threshold’ but ‘the stillness of shadow’. Why? to what works and pleases in English.
16 Winners of the Open category
Truyện Kiê`u Broken Heart, New Lament (an extract)
Trăm năm trong cõi người ta, It’s an old story: good luck and good looks Chữ tài chữ mệnh khéo là ghét nhau. don’t always mix. Trải qua một cuộc bê’ dâu, Tragedy is circular and infinite. Những điê`u trông thâ´y mà đau đớn lòng. The plain never believe it, Lạ gì bỉ sắc tư phong, but good-looking people meet with hard times too. Trời xanh quen thói má hô` ng đánh ghen. Cảo thơm lâ`n giở trước đèn, It’s true. Phong tình cô’ lục còn truyê`n sử xanh. Our ending is inevitable: Rằng: Năm Gia-tĩnh triê`u Minh, long years betray the beautiful. Bô´n phương phẳng lặng hai kinh chữ vàng. Có nhà viên ngoại họ Vương, This manuscript is ancient, priceless, Gia tư nghỉ cũng thường thường bậc trung. bamboo-rolled, perfumed with musty spices. Một trai con thứ rô´t lòng, Sit comfortably by this good light, that you may learn Vương Quan là chữ nô´i dòng nho gia. the hard-won lesson that these characters contain. Đâ`u lòng hai ả tô´ nga, Thúy Kiê`u là chị em là Thúy Vân. It is the time of the Ming Dynasty. Jiajing is on the throne. Mai cô´t cách tuyê´t tinh thâ`n, The empire is peaceful. An educated man Mỗi người một vẻ mười phân vẹn mười. named Vương has three children: Vân xem trang trọng khác vời, two daughters, Kiê`u and Vân, Khuôn trăng đầy đặn nét ngài nở nang. and a handsome son, Vương Quan. Hoa cười ngọc thô´t đoan trang, Mây thua nước tóc tuyê´t nhường màu da. The sisters are slender as saplings and lovely Kiê`u càng sắc sảo mặn mà, as snow fresh fallen from a winter sky. So bê` tài sắc lại là phâ`n hơn. The gentle glow of a full moon Làn thu thủy nét xuân sơn, might remind you of the round face of Vân. Hoa ghen thua thắm liễu hờn kém xanh. Her words sparkle, precious as jewels, Một hai nghiêng nước nghiêng thành, and her smile is as soft as rose petals. Sắc đành đòi một tài đành họa hai. Thông minh vô´n sẵn tính trời, But Kiê`u is still more beautiful. Her eyes Pha nghê` thi họa đủ mùi ca ngâm. are dark and troubled as November seas. Cung thương làu bậc ngũ âm, Spring flowers envy her grave beauty Nghê` riêng ăn đứt hô` câ`m một trương. and the mountain ash shivers with jealousy Khúc nhà tay lựa nên xoang, whenever she passes by. Một thiên Bạc mệnh lại càng não nhân. Her smile flashes like a thunderbolt. Phong lưu râ´t mực hô`ng quâ`n, A fine painter, singer, and poet, Xuân xanh xâ´p xỉ tới tuâ`n cập kê. she makes mournful melodies on her lute: Êm đềm trướng rủ màn che, the saddest and the sweetest is Cruel fate. Tường đông ong bướm đi vê` mặc ai. Ngày xuân con én đưa thoi, Young men buzz beyond the outer wall: Thiê`u quang chín chục đã ngoài sáu mươi. bees among the honeysuckle. Cỏ non xanh tận chân trời, Swallows and spring days fly like shuttles Cành lê trắng điê’m một vài bông hoa. over green lawns splashed with white petals Thanh minh trong tiê´t tháng ba, from the branches of the pear trees. Lễ là tảo mộ hội là đạp thanh. Gần xa nô nức yê´n anh, It is April, the Feast of Pure Light, when families Chị em sắm sửa bộ hành chơi xuân. visit the graves of their ancestors: pulling weeds and burning incense. Like orioles or swifts, people flit about. The sisters and their brother dress up and step outside.
17 Winners of the Open category
Dập dìu tài tử giai nhân, Bright men and lovely women crowd Ngựa xe như nước áo quâ`n như nêm. the streets: wave upon wave of fashionable clothes Ngô’n ngang gò đô´ng kéo lên, slowing the flow of carriages and horses. Thoi vàng vó rắc tro tiê`n giâ´y bay. Everywhere, little hills and mounds are strewn Tà tà bóng ngả vê` tây, with paper coins, fake gold, and smouldering incense. Chị em thơ thâ’n dan tay ra vê`. Bước dâ`n theo ngọn tiểu khê, The sun sets, the shadows lengthen, Lâ`n xem phong cảnh có bê` thanh thanh. and the sisters and their brother turn for home. Nao nao dòng nước uô´n quanh, Strolling hand-in-hand beside a pretty brook, Nhịp câ`u nho nhỏ cuô´i ghê`nh bắc ngang. they remark its gentle beauty. They pause to look. Sè sè nâ´m đâ´t bên đường, Dàu dàu ngọn cỏ nửa vàng nửa xanh. Downstream, beside a little bridge, Rằng: Sao trong tiê´t Thanh minh, they notice a tomb marked by mushrooms Mà đây hương khói vắng tanh thê´ này? and rotten greenish-yellow weeds.
by Nguyễn Du Kiê`u asks: ‘On this bright day when we respect the dead, why has this grave alone been left untended?’
Translated from the Vietnamese by Timothy Allen
Timothy Allen’s commentary
I have chosen Kiê`u because Vietnam’s ‘green’, but the boundary between these possible to imitate in English as a purely national poem deserves to be more widely two shades is not in a European place. It is abstract exercise, but the ‘rhyming’ of sharp known. The original itself is a ‘translation’: tempting to translate cỏ xanh as ‘blue grass’, with flat tones has no meaning in a non- nearly two centuries ago, Vietnamese because of the surprising image, but it is not tonal language. diplomat Nguyễn Du Du turned a Chinese what Nguyễn meant. Everyone in Vietnam knows Kiê`u: these historical novel into an extraordinary work Nguyễn understood well that translating opening lines are still quoted on market of art. There was something in the life a poem means making something new – he stalls in Saigon, and in the corridors of of this long-dead Chinese courtesan that originally planned to call his poem Đoạn Hanoi, and by farmers in the rice fields of resonated with his own life, and it is a Trường Tân Thanh ‘Broken heart, new Can Tho. Through half-rhyme and variable mark of his genius that generations of lament’ both to acknowledge his debt to the metre, I have tried to recreate those features Vietnamese continue to find Kiê`u’s story Chinese original, and to make a claim for of Kiê`u that I think best account for its vividly relevant today. the freshness of his own work. popularity and longevity: the sharpness and Vietnamese is far from English. The I have not attempted to mimic the wit of couplets that both drive the narrative colour xanh, for example, normally conventions of Vietnamese poetry. The and frequently succeed as mini-poems in translates as ‘blue’, while lục is what we call syllabic six-eight couplet might be technically their own right.
18 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 Poets tour, which brought translation with an unpublished article on these poets The aim of this annual prize, launched workshops to schools around the country; written in the Thirties by Isaiah Berlin; the in 2004, is to draw attention to the art and the Children’s Bookshow Outside speakers were a combination of those who of literary translation and encourage In: Children’s Writers in Translation, knew Spender and his circle at first hand young people to read foreign poetry at which saw foreign writers and illustrators and scholars working on them today. a time when literature is no more than taking part in events in seven cities, with In May 2004, three of the Trust’s an optional module (if that) in A level workshops in 40 schools. Committee members – Seamus Heaney, modern languages. Entrants translate a Tony Harrison and Harold Pinter – poem from any language – modern or The archive programme very generously agreed to celebrate the classical – into English, and submit both In May 2002 the Trust presented the publication of Spender’s New Collected the original and their translation, together British Library with a collection of Stephen Poems with a reading of his poetry and with a commentary of not more than 300 Spender’s non-fictional, published prose. some of their own. They were joined by words. There are three categories (14- Representing around one million words of Jill Balcon (widow of Stephen Spender’s and-under, 18-and-under and Open) with mainly essays and journalism, the archive friend, C. Day Lewis) and Vanessa prizes in each category, the best entries covered 70 years, from 1924 to 1994. It was Redgrave. The 90-minute programme was being published in The Times and in a compiled by postgraduates, financed by a devised by Lady Spender and directed by commemorative booklet produced by the grant from the British Academy, and was Joe Harmston; all 900 seats of the Queen Trust. The prize is promoted by The Times supervised academically by Professor John Elizabeth Hall sold out. and has been sponsored in 2008 by the Sutherland and by Lady Spender. The 821 On 21 February 2007 (the 100th Old Possum’s Practical Trust, to whom the items, from 79 published sources in Britain, anniversary of W. H. Auden’s birth) a Trust is very grateful. Europe and the USA, are catalogued reading of Auden’s poetry was held at the chronologically and also alphabetically Shaw Theatre, the result of a collaboration Translation grants by source. The Trust’s online version can between the Trust and the British Library. Since its inception, the Trust has given be searched and sorted according to a Lady Spender, who knew Auden well, approximately £42,000 in grants for the variety of categories via the Trust’s website: selected the readers (all poets themselves): translation of contemporary writers www.stephen-spender.org James Fenton, John Fuller, Grey Gowrie, into English. Recipients include Index Lady Spender is currently collating and Andrew Motion, Sean O’Brien, Peter Porter on Censorship for two special issues of annotating Stephen Spender’s journals, and – in recognition of the years Auden creative work, one on banned fiction which will be published by Faber in 2009, spent in the United States – American and the other on banned poetry; Modern Spender’s centenary year, while Mark poet and academic Richard Howard; the Poetry in Translation; the Harvill Press, Kermode has been digitising the important programme was devised by Lord Gowrie, for a bilingual edition of poems by Rutger photographic archive held by Lady Spender, a founding member of the Stephen Spender Kopland; The Way We Are, a multilingual which comprises photographs taken by Memorial Trust and an Auden scholar, anthology of writing by children and Stephen Spender and her from the late and featured poems predominantly from young people from Waltham Forest; the 1940s up until the 1990s. the 1930s and 40s, as well as ‘Auden in Aldeburgh Poetry Trust, to bring to the Milwaukee’, written by Stephen Spender festival exiled Palestinian poet Mourid Events in 1940. Barghouti, the Iraqi poet Fadhil Al-Azzawi, The Institute for English Studies, University Stephen Spender’s centenary in 2009 and Aharon Shabtai with his translator, the of London, hosted a successful one-day will be marked by a poetry reading on the poet Peter Cole; the British Centre for symposium in January 2001 on ‘Stephen evening of Thursday 26 February and an Literary Translation, to bring five Eastern Spender and his Circle in the l930s’ academic seminar on Friday 27 February, European translators to seminars and the with contributions on Edward Upward, both events taking place at the Institute of BCLT’s summer school; the Great Women Isherwood, Auden, Spender and MacNeice, English Studies.
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
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, Desmond Clarke, Valerie Eliot*, Professor Mark Ford, 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, Tim Supple, 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