Stephen Spender Prize 2011
for poetry in translation Stephen Spender Prize 2011 for poetry in translation
Joint winners of the 14-and-under prize Commended Giles Robinson Anamay Viswanathan ‘Breakfast’ by Jacques ‘Children of the Sun and Wind’ Derek Lam Prévert (French) by Mohammed Ebnu (Spanish) ‘The Ballad of Mulan’, anon (Classical Chinese) Charlie Mack ‘A Dream for Winter’ by Arthur Rimbaud (French)
Winners of the 18-and-under category Commended Iman Ahmedani First Joint second ‘From the Child to His Foot’ Andrew Wynn Owen Joel Farrance William Kennaway Phoebe Power by Pablo Neruda ‘The Whale’ ‘As’ ‘In the Jaws of ‘Blood Orange’ (Spanish) anon by Robert Desnos Luxury…’ by Jacques Prévert Oscar Davies (Anglo-Saxon) (French) by Petronius (Latin) (French) ‘Open Windows’ by Victor Hugo (French) Isobel Gooder ‘Good Advice for Lovers’ by Victor Hugo (French) Holly Whiston ‘Fragment 31’ by Sappho (Ancient Greek)
Winners of the Open category Commended First Second Third Jane Draycott Meghan Purvis Martin Bennett Henry Stead ‘The Man in the Moon’, anon (Old English) ‘The Collar’ ‘Toto Merumeni’ from Medea Adam Elgar from Beowulf, by Guido Gozzano by Seneca ‘Sonnet 32’, by Gaspara Stampa (Italian) anon (Italian) (Latin) Meghan Purvis (Anglo-Saxon) ‘Modthryth’, from Beowulf (Anglo-Saxon) Sam Riviere ‘Tristia’, by Osip Mandelstam (Russian) Patricia Roseberry ‘The Murderer’s Wine’ by Charles Baudelaire (French) John Turner ‘Sagesse III, XII’, by Paul Verlaine (French) John Turner ‘Parsifal’, by Paul Verlaine (French) Introduction
This was a curious year in that we had a wonderfully high before deciding the winners at a meeting that new judge number of entries but fewer than usual in the Open category: Patrick McGuinness described as ‘convivial and edifying the total was swollen by an unprecedented number of entries and funny in the right parts’. This year’s sponsor has asked in the 14-and-under and 18-and-under groups. Forty-three to remain anonymous, so it remains only to thank Erica languages were represented, with Sindebele and Tibetan Wagner, Literary Editor of The Times, whose promotion of appearing for the first time. the prize makes an inestimable difference. My thanks to judges Susan Bassnett, Edith Hall, Patrick McGuinness and George Szirtes, who painstakingly read and Robina Pelham Burn made notes on every entry (there is no preliminary sifting) Director of the Stephen Spender Trust
Judges’ comments
This year’s entries, as Beowulf was our unanimous choice not only at the translations but also at ever, included some as winner of the Open category, with how the translators explain themselves magnificent translations a second poem commended. Whether in their commentaries. The quality by people of all ages, this reflects a renewed interest in Old of work submitted this year was from under-14 to over English poetry remains to be seen, so high that our list of commended 75, along with some but the translations were exceptionally entries is longer than usual. What this first-rate commentaries. Interestingly, strong. Classical languages also scored competition continues to show is that a lot of entrants chose to translate into highly, and several entries explored there are dozens of writers, old and rhymed verse forms. This works well if dramatic works. We all admired John young, experimenting with language the translator/poet can use rhyme in a Turner’s ‘Sagesse III, XII’ based on and producing beautiful, memorable versatile manner that shows he or she Verlaine and Dante. works of art. Stephen Spender would is comfortable with it, but though there Judging a competition such as this have been delighted. were some fine examples of rhymed inevitably raises questions of whether Susan Bassnett verse, there were also some cases where there are limits to the freedom a the use of rhyme damaged the impact translator may take with an original. Every year I read of the translation, making it read like Martin Bennett’s translation of ‘Toto the entries to the doggerel. My advice to anyone wanting Merumeni’ is significantly subtitled competition in a to translate into English rhyme forms ‘After Guido Gozzano’; a comparison different mood. This is not to do so unless you feel very, with the original shows the strategies year, I had spent very confident that the result will work used by the translator to create a fine July campaigning effectively. Just because there is a form poem in English that retains much of against the threatened closure of my of rhyme in an original does not mean the original without slavishly following Department of Classics, where Greek that it will translate easily into rhyme it. and Latin have been studied for over in another language where stylistic For a poem to live on in another a century. The proposal was made rules are different. language it has to be re-created. suddenly at the end of June, on the There were some very courageous Often that means rethinking the ground that the department is not entries this year: translators tackled poem, deciding what can and cannot expected to make a financial profit some of the best known and most be retained, perhaps changing the next year. It has therefore been more difficult poets such as Garcia Lorca and structure, reworking patterns of sound than usually heartening to spend time Pablo Neruda. I particularly admired and rhythm, sometimes substituting in the company of hundreds of people Adam Elgar’s translations of Gaspara images for ones that will have the who enjoy translating poetry from all Stampa (commended) and, in the under- desired effect. Ezra Pound, poet- kinds of contemporary and ancient 18 category, Isobel Gooder’s ‘Good translator of genius, was once castigated languages, for all sorts of reasons, Advice for Lovers’ by Victor Hugo, for his ‘unfaithfulness’ and replied none of them financial. also commended, and Charles Devas’ saying that anyone could produce a 2011 proved to be the year of rendering of Lorca’s ‘The Faithless literal version using a cheap crib. What Anglo-Saxon, which furnished the Wife’. might be attacked as unfaithfulness in texts of the winning entries in both There were several extremely good the translation of poetry may result in the Open category and the 18-and- Anglo-Saxon translations this year. a poem that does more justice to the under. Meghan Purvis’ evocation of Andrew Wynn Owen’s ‘The Whale’ original poet than any close following what she calls the ‘violent, feudal, won the under-18 category, while of the original. and supernatural’ world of Beowulf Meghan Purvis’ ‘The Collar’ from When judging, we look carefully in her arrestingly modern version of
Judges’ comments
‘The Collar’ proved our undisputed substantial examples. Here I think of what we might call the ‘afterness’ of Open winner. I will remember for Angus Wrenn’s lapidary version of translation. Did they take it to mean a long time the image of Hygelac’s Antoine Tudal’s ‘In the rue Nollet’, a long way after? A long time after? men sleeping with him still, ‘downed and Sean Scrivener’s tense ‘The Bow’, Going ‘after’ in the sense of pursuing? scarecrows / guarding a field of a rendering of a Spanish version of a Or taking ‘after’, perhaps in the sense corpses’. But the masterful alliteration medieval Arabic poem. On the other of resembling, the way you’d ‘take and visual power of Andrew Wynn hand, excerpts from epics or long after’ an ancestor? Owen’s rendition of ‘The Whale’ from narrative poems have to be chosen There were many excellent the Exeter Book would have won him carefully if they are to convey an translations, and some brilliant at least a commendation in the Open effect of aesthetic wholeness. ones. Many were so good I honestly category. Edith Hall wondered why I was judging, and I am pleased to say that the ancient from what perspective of qualification. languages of Greece and Rome While there were some But what makes the Spender prize attracted fine entries, too. Amongst disappointingly samey unique is the way in which it requires the 18-and-unders, Sappho prompted class-exercise-style the translators to think through their Holly Whiston’s brave attempt to versions, often of the choices and account for them. The make a familiar love song (Sappho same poem, the first commentary is important – knowing 31) speak to contemporary teenagers thing I noticed was the what you’re doing and why makes without betraying the poem’s archaic sheer range and variety of languages, you do it better – and I’m convinced simplicity. On the other hand, genres and periods from which it’s why so many of these translations the world-weary wit of William entrants had translated. The pile of were so good. This is a prize named Kennaway’s precociously knowing papers was a melting-pot of cultures; after a very fine poet, and one who in Petronius struck us as remarkable leafing through it was like walking his poetry and translation knew what in a translator still in secondary through an exciting multicultural it meant to be ‘after’: he understood his school. As a theatre enthusiast, I was street or visiting a busy international relations with his present and his past, delighted with the taut speakability music festival. What excited me was with his own culture and with those of Henry Stead’s excerpt from his the spectrum of fidelity and freedom of others. His work, which is limpid, version of the grim Senecan Medea. translators I saw. There were graceful, passionate and generous, is nonetheless I hope that it will encourage others precise, faithful but not grindingly unafraid to subject the emotions to the to submit translations from verse servile translations, and there were mind’s enriching scrutiny. It seems drama, a category of translation in also smart and confident versions that to me that the prize’s requirements which poets such as Ted Hughes and took the originals as a starting-point honour that spirit, and that they bring Tony Harrison have recently shown and showed them a different kind out the best in the translators too. English can be most effective. But of respect by going off at their own This exciting after-ness of trans- there is room in this competition for tangents. Good poems can take a bit of lations is especially evident in the all genres and moods; if the emotional rough treatment. They aren’t there to winners of the Open and the 18-and- darkness of Seneca made us flinch, be stared at behind glass, they’re there under. Both are from the Anglo-Saxon, Patricia Roseberry had us in fits with to be taken off the shelf and handled and both are inspired not just in their her hilarious take on the drunken (though all breakages, as they say, diction, rhythms, register, sound- ravings of the narrator of Baudelaire’s must be paid for…). patterning and lineation but in all ‘The Murderer’s Wine’. In this context, I was especially the specific, detailed and immediate The success of a translation in this drawn to translations that showed choices that make translation succeed competition often lies in the choice inventiveness in updating not just or fail. Above all, however, the trans- of original poem. The runner-up in context or setting but register and lators made the poems feel ancient the Open category, with Gozzano’s tone. There’s a phrase one often sees in – which is what they are: heavy with cynical ‘Toto Merumeni’, showed translations: ‘After Baudelaire’, ‘After age in the best, most resonant way impeccable judgement; the poem is Rilke’, ‘After Li Po’, etc. For me the – but never archaic. Foreign? Well, just long enough to demand a range most impressive entries in this year’s Anglo-Saxon is and it isn’t. In the past? of solutions to a variety of verbal competition were the ones that seemed Yes and no. But like these translations, problems. The same goes for one to know what was meant by that we too are part of the after-ness of of my personal favourites this year, innocent-seeming word ‘after’. They these poems, however thrillingly close Jane Draycott’s updating of the 13th- certainly didn’t understand the same their translators have brought them to century English lyric ‘The Man in the thing by it (how could they?), but us, and however richly contemporary Moon’. Some stunning entries seem they had all decided how, for their they have been made to feel. too slight in comparison with more own purposes, they would negotiate Patrick McGuinness
Judges’ comments
We take a great deal In the other two categories it was the Collar’ an excerpt from Beowulf, her on trust in translations year of the Old English. The 18-and- other entry from elsewhere in the providing we feel the unders were very strong. ‘The Whale’, same text. It is lyrically chiselled and trust has been earned. translated by Andrew Wynn Owen, poignant, full of colour. As with ‘The That trust is earned was beautifully handled, its alliterations Whale’ it struck a note that was at a partly through the ear unfussy and tidal, the difficult task of marvellous angle to the original while and the nerves. There are also the holding together modern, colloquial being close to modern speech. Martin competing appeals of brilliant texture and standard diction mastered with Bennett’s ‘Toto Merumeni’ by Guido and wit as opposed to sonority of feeling. great skill. ‘I sing of a fish with all Gozzano was dazzling (he was good You can’t help but notice brilliance, my wiles / in woven words, of the in all three of his translations including of course. Energy matters, but also wondrous whale’ is a terrific beginning a lovely Apollinaire ‘Bestiary’) and the sense of deeper comprehension as and so it goes on. Three others tied for third was Henry Stead’s choral extract though the translator were reaching the runner-up spot. It is lovely to have from Seneca’s Medea, punchy, sharp, under the words as well as running a translation from the French Surrealist visceral, the lines broken up in pauses fingers over them. Robert Desnos as good as ‘As’, by Joel as if, appropriately, spat on the page. In that respect the youngest category Farrance, clever, light yet passionate. There was charming work by was a little disappointing this year Phoebe Power’s ‘Blood Orange’, from Iman Ahmedani, and outstanding but there was a delightful and, to me, Prévert again, is sensuous and rich, and translations by John Turner, Ian unknown poem, by Mohammed Ebnu, William Kennaway’s brisk version of Crockatt, Steven Bliss, Patricia ‘Hijos del sol y el viento’, translated out Petronius is full of life, a very skilful Roseberry (‘The Murderer’s Wine’), of the Spanish by Anamay Viswanathan, piece of work. John Burrows, Kate Armstrong, that was as graceful and intelligent as There were some terrific things Samantha Schnee, Adam Elgar (a Giles Robinson’s version of Prévert’s in the Open category. I recognised group of fine Gaspara Stampa poems), ‘Breakfast’ (complete with product two of the pieces so I told the other Sam Riviere (who gave us Mandelstam, placement!) was inventive and witty, judges that I would have to sit them Rilke and Li Bai), Jane Holland and a so the prize was shared. Charlie Mack’s out and say nothing, which is what previous winner, the excellent Jane Rimbaud was ambitious and felicitous I did. It turned out that they liked Draycott. It would have been great to in many places and Derek Lam’s ‘Ballad both and one of them they liked best give them all prizes. of Mulan’ from the Chinese ran well. of all. It was Meghan Purvis’ ‘The George Szirtes
Winners of the 14-and-under prize
Déjeuner du matin Breakfast
Il a mis le café He put the nescafé in the cup Dans la tasse He put the cravendale in the cup Il a mis le lait He put the sugar daddie in the cup Dans la tasse de café He put the small spoon next to the creamy hot cup Il a mis le sucre He turned and gulped his cup of coffee Dans le café au lait He placed his cup of coffee on the table Avec la petite cuiller Without a word Il a tourné He lit his cigarette Il a bu le café au lait And blew a smoke ring around another girl, I knew then Et il a reposé la tasse It was over Sans me parler He put his ashes in his tray Il a allumé Without a word Une cigarette He watched me Il a fait des ronds He stood up Avec la fumée He placed his hat on his head Il a mis les cendres He put his coat on Dans le cendrier Because it was pouring down Sans me parler And he left Sans me regarder Under the rain Il s’est levé And me, I put my head in my hands Il a mis And started to cry. Son chapeau sur sa tête Il a mis son manteau de pluie Parce qu’il pleuvait Et il est parti Sous la pluie Sans une parole Sans me regarder Et moi j’ai pris Ma tête dans ma main Et j’ai pleuré.
Jacques Prévert Translated from the French by Giles Robinson
Giles Robinson’s commentary
I chose this particular poem because I felt it would be reasonably easy to modernise but more demanding if I put my own spin on it. In lines 1–3 I thought that by putting in a little more description it would show more effectively that the girl talking in the poem feels sad that it is over and that she is looking at his every action. Another reason I chose this poem is because I actually saw someone in a café showing these emotions and her emotions came across clearly to me.
Winners of the 14-and-under prize
Hijos del sol y del viento Children of the Sun and Wind
Aún vivimos en las esquinas We still live, de la nada On the edge of insignificance, entre el norte y el sur de las estaciones. Between the north and south of the seasons.
Seguimos durmiendo We still sleep, abrazando almohadas de piedra Embracing stone pillows, como nuestros padres. Like our fathers.
Perseguimos las mismas nubes We still follow the same clouds, y reposamos bajo la sombra de las acacias Resting in the shadows of bare thorn trees. desnudas. We still drink tea with sips of fire, Nos bebemos el té a sorbos de fuego We walk barefoot so as not to disturb the caminamos descalzos para no espantar el silencio. silence.
Y a lo lejos And in the distance, en las laderas del espejismo On the slopes of the mirage, todavía miramos, como cada tarde We still watch on countless evenings, las puestas de sol en el mar. The sun plunge into the sea.
Y la misma mujer que se detiene And the same woman salutes us, sobre las atalayas del crepúsculo As she waits and watches for dusk, en el centro del mapa nos saluda. In the midpoint of the map.
Nos saluda y se pierde She greets us, then is lost, en los ojos de un niño que sonríe In the eyes of a child, desde el regazo de la eternidad. Who smiles from the lap of timelessness.
Aún esperamos la aurora siguiente We still wait, para volver a comenzar For a fresh dawn, To appear once more.
Mohamed Salem Abdelfatah, ‘Ebnu’ Translated from the Spanish by Anamay Viswanathan
Anamay Viswanathan’s commentary
I chose this poem as I feel it conveys a incredibly difficult to rediscover in English. though it may not actually be present in powerful message through very creative I also found the fluency and metre, which the Spanish piece; I felt I needed to loosely and striking imagery. The poet, Mohammed added so much elegance to the description translate this. Ebnu, describes a journey, a journey of life, in Spanish, very much contrasted with the Though I had altered the metre, I tried and how we live it. He conveys this with metre and rhythm of my translation. I to keep the same tone to the poem: the passion and emotion through his imagery. found it challenging to translate this poem tone of inquisitiveness and thoughtfulness I felt touched and gripped by his poetry accurately but keeping the elegance of the as Ebnu recreates our lives in one journey. and I felt the meaning as it is relevant to imagery. I decided to alter the metre as I felt it I found the translation of words such anyone who sees life as a journey with would keep the same intensity and meaning as ‘estaciones’, which have two meanings up-hill struggles, but it is this hunger and to the poem’s imagery in English. I realised (stations and seasons), difficult. The line ambition to achieve a desired goal, no that English and Spanish as languages both ‘desde el regazo de la eternidad’ holds such matter how steep the climb, that pushes us. have contrasting metres when spoken. ‘We elegance in Spanish but I found it difficult This mixture of passion and sophistication still’ was the start to most of the stanzas, to carry the same fluidity and posture into was perfectly demonstrated in Spanish but it gives structure and a rhythm to the piece English.
Winners of the 18-and-under category
The Whale, from the Exeter Book The Whale
Nu ic fitte gen ymb fisca cynn I sing of a fish, with all my wiles wille woðcræfte wordum cyþan in woven words, of the wondrous whale. þurh modgemynd bi þam miclan hwale. He often appears to unwary wanderers Se bið unwillum oft gemeted, fierce and unfriendly to all seafarers, frecne ond ferðgrim, fareðlacendum, to many a man. He is called Fastitocalon, niþþa gehwylcum; þam is noma cenned, this flubber of the ocean lanes. fyrnstreama geflotan, Fastitocalon. He resembles a rock roughly eroded Is þæs hiw gelic hreofum stane, or a seething straggle of strangleweed swylce worie bi wædes ofre, bounded by sandbanks, basking offshore sondbeorgum ymbseald, særyrica mæst, so seafarers think they have spotted shelter. swa þæt wenaþ wægliþende þæt hy on ealond sum eagum wliten, Now they fix their high-keeled ship ond þonne gehydað heahstefn scipu to this trick-land with unravelled rope to þam unlonde oncyrrapum, and tether the sea-steeds at ocean’s edge; setlaþ sæmearas sundes æt ende, they climb to the top of that ridge ond þonne in þæt eglond up gewitað in strong spirits; their ships saunter collenferþe; ceolas stondað sturdy by shore, surrounded by water. bi staþe fæste, streame biwunden. At length the tired crew pitch tents, ðonne gewiciað werigferðe, bearing no further fears of disturbance. faroðlacende, frecnes ne wenað, There, on the summit, a fire is fuelled on þam ealonde æled weccað, and a blaze built; they are all heartened heahfyr ælað; hæleþ beoþ on wynnum, but bent-double, they rankle for rest. reonigmode, ræste geliste. When the master monster, the briny beast, þonne gefeleð facnes cræftig supposes the sailors are sound asleep þæt him þa ferend on fæste wuniaþ, and kip in camp, content with the weather, wic weardiað wedres on luste, he suddenly slides under the surface; ðonne semninga on sealtne wæg he speedily dives to his shadowy bed, mid þa noþe niþer gewiteþ delivering sailors and ships to drown garsecges gæst, grund geseceð, in the Doors of Death. ond þonne in deaðsele drence bifæsteð That’s also the deal with demons, scipu mid scealcum. Swa bið scinna þeaw, the Faustpact-forgers who, by lying, deofla wise, þæt hi drohtende lure our best men with mischievous magicking; þurh dyrne meaht duguðe beswicað, they guile them from God with sordid sorcery ond on teosu tyhtaþ tilra dæda, and lead them a dance so they tragically try wemað on willan, þæt hy wraþe secen, for a monster’s clemency and, at the close, frofre to feondum, oþþæt hy fæste ðær are dragged down by that friend-foe. æt þam wærlogan wic geceosað. When the devious demon is certain þonne þæt gecnaweð of cwicsusle the Sons of Man, after terrible torture, flah feond gemah, þætte fira gehwylc are totally brainwashed, bound to his will, hæleþa cynnes on his hringe biþ with cunning intelligence he becomes their killer – fæste gefeged, he him feorgbona sinners who spread his evil on earth, þurh sliþen searo siþþan weorþeð, overreaching and ruthless. Now, under cover wloncum ond heanum, þe his willan her of his enchanted helmet, he digs down to Hell, firenum fremmað, mid þam he færinga, that system of circles, that endless abyss heoloþhelme biþeaht, helle seceð, below the mists, just as the whale goda geasne, grundleasne wylm scuppers seafarers, both sailors and ships. under mistglome, swa se micla hwæl, se þe bisenceð sæliþende But mighty whale, the water-traveller, eorlas ond yðmearas. He hafað oþre gecynd, knows another miracle still more marvellous. wæterþisa wlonc, wrætlicran gien.
Winners of the 18-and-under category
þonne hine on holme hungor bysgað If he is hungry when wandering ond þone aglæcan ætes lysteþ, and the beast’s belly moans for feasting, ðonne se mereweard muð ontyneð, the ocean-warden widens his mouth, wide weleras; cymeð wynsum stenc moving his lips. A sweet scent glides out of his innoþe, þætte oþre þurh þone, and gallons of fish are gulled inside, sæfisca cynn, beswicen weorðaþ thrashing towards the source of the smell swimmað sundhwate þær se sweta stenc and thronging together, a heedless heap ut gewiteð. Hi þær in farað that jam-packs his jaw. So, in a swipe, unware weorude, oþþæt se wida ceafl those unprisable chops imprison their prey. gefylled bið; þonne færinga ymbe þa herehuþe hlemmeð togædre grimme goman.
Anon Translated from the Anglo-Saxon by Andrew Wynn Owen
Andrew Wynn Owen’s commentary
Whales are important in Anglo-Saxon as in ‘unprisable … imprison’. The with the more modern phrase ‘Faustpact- literature. In Beowulf, the sea is called the strangled echoes of half-rhyme seemed forgers’ to conjure the idea of a satanic ‘whale road’ (‘hron-rad’). Like The Seafarer, right for whale song. From ‘That’s also pact. The translation ‘strangleweed’ felt in which whales also make an appearance, the deal with demons…’ to ‘just as the murky enough to stand in for ‘særyric’ this poem is part of the Exeter Book. whale’, the poem takes up an epic simile (literally ‘sea-reed’). I have cut short the I have tried to imitate the alliterative comparing the whale to a demon. The original and ended with the image of the balance of the Anglo-Saxon verse without purpose of this seems similar to mediaeval whale’s jaw gaping like a hell mouth, just as letting it become overbearing. Wherever morality plays and the didactic thread Herman Melville described ‘the wrenched possible, I tried to use internal alliteration, running through the Exeter Book. I hoped hideousness of [Moby Dick’s] jaw’.
Winners of the 18-and-under category
Comme As
“Come” dit l’anglais et l’anglais vient Come, says the Englishman, “Come” dit le chef de gare et le voyageur qui vient dans cette ville And the Englishman comes. descend du train sa valise à la main Como! says the porter, “Come” dit l’autre et il mange And the traveller, suitcase in hand, Leaves the train. Comme, je dis comme et tout se métamorphose, le marbre en eau, Come, says the Spaniard, le ciel en orage, le vin en plaine, le fil en six, le cœur en peine, la And the other one eats… peur en seine Mais si l’anglais dit as, c’est à son tour de voir le monde changer de Comme, I say. And everything changes, forme à sa convenance As in marble into water, the blue sky into orange, Et moi je ne vois plus qu’un signe unique sur une carte The split hair, the suffering heart, L’as de cœur si c’est février Into a web of fear. L’as de carreau et l’as de trèfle, miserai en Flandre L’as de pique aux mains des aventuriers When the Englishman says ‘as’ Et si cela ne plait pas à moi de vous dire machin The world appears as he wishes. Que machin dise le chef de gare But I only see As on cards. Et moi aussi machin The Ace of Hearts, if it’s February. Machin The Ace of Diamonds or Clubs – Et même machin chose In Flanders, a soldier’s life in the balance. Il est vrai que vous vous en f ou tez The Ace of Spades – Que vous ne comprenez pas la raison de ce poème In the hands of the conquistadors. Moi non plus d’ailleurs If you want I’ll just say ‘thingummy’ – Poème, je vous demande un peu? The Englishman says thingummy, Poème? je vous demande un peu de confiture, encore un peu de So does the porter, gigot So does the Spaniard. Encore un petit verre de vin And so do I. Pour nous mettre en train... Or even ‘thingummyjig’. I’m probably right to say, You cannot sound The depths of this poem. You run aground. And so do I.
Poem, I ask you – I ask you for a bit of jam, I ask you for a leg of lamb. I ask you for a glass of wine, So we can pass the time
10 Winners of the 18-and-under category
Poème, je ne vous demande pas l’heure qu’il est Poem, I don’t ask you the time. Poème, je ne vous demande pas si votre beau père est poilu Poem, I don’t ask you comme un sapeur If your father-in-law Is as woolly as a sheep. Poème, je vous demande un peu...? Poem, I don’t ask much of you… Poème, je ne vous demande pas l’aumône, je vous l’a fait Poème, je vous demande pas l’heure qu’il est je vous la donne I don’t ask for charity, Poème, je ne vous demande pas si vous allez bien cela se devine I give you my alms. Poème, je vous demande un peu... I don’t ask you the time, Je vous demande un peu d’or pour être heureux avec celle que I give you mine. j’aime Poem, I don’t ask if you’re well, I assume you are.
Poem, I don’t ask you much – Just a nugget of happiness With the woman I love.
Robert Desnos Translated from the French by Joel Farrance
Joel Farrance’s commentary
I was not familiar with Desnos (1900–45) the line ‘le fil en six’ was a play on the the translation within the original. Desnos until my French teacher suggested some wider idiom ‘couper les cheveux en quatre’ – thus converts ‘comme’ to the English ‘as’, and reading. Attracted by the surrealist surface of ‘splitting hairs’ seemed the most fitting. then back to the French ‘as’ – meaning ‘Comme’, I decided to look at it in more depth. In relation to the poem itself, the most an ace. I was pleased to maintain the pun I found the theme of ‘Comme’ particularly obvious challenge was trying to preserve visually with my ideas of ‘As’ as seen on a apposite to the whole nature of translation, Desnos’ exploration of the crossover playing card. as in the poem Desnos ponders questions of between languages in the first passage, Wherever possible I tried to preserve language and the purpose of poetry. especially as it bases itself on his perspective the rhyme and imagery. I tried to reflect Initially, the surrealist playfulness as a French speaker. I ultimately decided to the original rhythm of the beginning of meant I found difficulty in judging the remain with this, rather than try to shift the poem, with slightly longer line lengths, intended meaning of some phrases and the perspective to an English speaker’s. though I added further rhyme in the last words. In each case I tried to maintain This created a consequent problem: few stanzas, as it emphasised the shift in the nature of the image, while giving an making a clear transition from similar theme – from questions of language to apt English equivalent. For example, I felt sounding words in different languages, to poetry itself.
11 Winners of the 18-and-under category
In the Jaws of Luxury… In the Jaws of Luxury…
Luxuriae rictu Martis marcent moenia. In the jaws of Luxury, the walls of Mars wither. Tuo palato clausus pavo pascitur To your taste, the peacock is trapped and fed – plumato amictus aureo Babylonico, it is clothed in gilded Babylonian feathers – gallina tibi Numidica, tibi gallus spado; and for you, the guinea-fowl; for you, the capon; ciconia etiam, grata peregrina hospital even the stork, that dear and foreign guest, pietaticultrix gracilipes crotalistria, that baby-bringer, that slim-foot clacker. avis exul hiemis, titulus tepidi temporis, Winter’s exile, warm weather’s claim to fame, nequitiae nidum in caccabo fecit modo. the bird now builds its idle nest in a cooking pan! Quo margaritam caram tibi, bacam Indicam? Why costly pearls, why fruits of India? An ut matron ornata phaleris pelagiis So your wife can be decorated with seafood tollat pedes indomita in strato extraneo? and lift her hooves in a strange man’s horse-blanket? Zmaragdum ad quam rem viridem, pretiosum vitrum? Why the green emerald, the precious glass? Quo Carchedonios optas ignes lapideos, Why do you need the fires of Carthaginian stones – nisi ut scintillet probitas e carbunculis? unless for honesty to sparkle out of the rubies? Aequum est induere nuptam ventum textile, Should the bride clothe herself in woven breeze, Palam prostare nudam in nebula linea? or should she flaunt her nudity in a linen mist?
Petronius Translated from the Latin by William Kennaway
William Kennaway’s commentary
I knew from the moment I decided to the slender-footed castanet dancer’, which Throughout the poem, the author uses enter the competition that I would try to I thought would be far too clunky a alliteration to add to the pace and impetus choose something ‘off-the-beaten-track’; translation; by rendering it instead ‘that of the line of attack: in some cases, like something I hope to have achieved with my baby-bringer, that slim-foot clacker’, I ‘Martis marcent moenia’, ‘the walls of selection of one of the many satirical poems think I have been fairly successful in Mars wither’, I was able to replicate this of Satyricon. In approaching the poem my maintaining both the sense and the rapid to a degree, but I was unable to translate main goal was to preserve the stabbing articulation that is achieved in the Latin, the repeated ‘p’ sounds of lines 2 and 3. articulation of the original. despite drifting a little from the precise There were also subtleties of word order One of the greatest challenges presented meaning of ‘pietaticultrix’. which had to be lost in translation such by Latin is the way the language can Line 14 proved particularly troublesome as the varied placing of ‘tibi’ in line 4. To tersely convey ideas which would require in satisfyingly translating: the phrase ‘nisi compensate for this and other weaknesses many more words in English. For instance, ut’ has no precise equivalent in English, I attempted anaphoras that sounded more the three words of line 4, ‘pietaticultrix so I had to compromise with ‘unless for natural in English: the repeated ‘that’ of gracilipes crotalistria’, literally mean honesty to shine forth’ for ‘nisi ut scintillet lines 5 and 6, for instance, and the ‘why’ something like ‘the worshipper of piety, probitas’. of 9, 12, and 13.
12 Winners of the 18-and-under category
Sanguine Blood Orange
La fermeture éclair a glissé sur tes reins The zip slid down the small of your back et tout l’orage heureux de ton corps amoureux and all the happy storm of your passionate body au beau milieu de l’ombre submerged in darkness a éclaté soudain burst suddenly Et ta robe en tombant sur le parquet ciré And your dress dropping on to the polished parquet n’a pas fait plus de bruit made no more sound qu’une écorce d’orange tombant sur un tapis than an orange peel dropping on carpet Mais sous nos pieds But under our feet ses petits boutons de nacre craquaient comme des pépins its little pearl buttons crackled like pips Sanguine Blood orange joli fruit lovely fruit la pointe de ton sein the tip of your breast a tracé une nouvelle ligne de chance has traced a new line of fortune dans le creux de ma main in the palm of my hand Sanguine Blood orange joli fruit lovely fruit
Soleil de nuit. Sun in the night.
Jacques Prévert Translated from the French by Phoebe Power
Phoebe Power’s commentary
I chose to translate this poem because I love of which add more substance to the image words to make them rhyme, I instead tried the way that it sketches a scene of intense of the passionate woman of the poem. I to suggest movement using consonance; sensuality with such economy of language. decided eventually, however, to translate for example, the repetition of d’s and p’s The poem’s impact is due to the precision the title literally as ‘Blood Orange’ to in ‘your dress dropping on to the polished of Prévert’s verb choices, which act like maintain the clarity of the fruit metaphor, parquet’ to convey the languid softness highly-charged flickers of energy in this while exploiting the sense of violence of the dress drifting to the floor. Finding moment of passion captured by the poet. I implied in ‘blood’ to reverberate later with the best translation of certain verbs could was interested to see whether words of the ‘burst’ and ‘crackle’. Some concise French also be challenging, in order to recreate same precision, if chosen carefully enough, words such as ‘reins’ were also difficult to the exact physical sense of pearl buttons could be found in English to recreate this translate in brief, thus requiring special being stepped on, for example. Overall, impact. attention to metre in the English. my aim was to imitate the charged focus My initial problem was the title. It was Prévert uses loose rhymes and assonance of Prévert’s language in English as well as difficult to convey the connotations of (eg ‘heureux’, ‘amoureux’, ‘bruit’, ‘tapis’) possible. ‘Sanguine’, which in French hints at a fiery to convey the waves of movement in the personality, blood, and a flushed face, all poem. Rather than altering the meaning of
13 Winners of the Open category
Beowulf, lines 1197–1214a The Collar
Nænigne ic under swegle selran hyrde Eagles hunt high. Their feathers glint gold against the sun, hord-maððum hæleþa, syþðan Hama ætwæg mica among the loam-specks of crows a sky-current below. to þære byrhtan byrig Brosinga mene, They hunt by sight – a rabbit tensing to the ground, grass tenting sigle ond sinc-fæt; searoniðas fleah over a field-mouse’s flight – or light against a gold collar, Eormenrices, geceas ecne ræd. þone hring hæfde Higelac Geata, a signal-fire gone wild to an empty sky. Coast closer. nefa Swertinges, nyhstan siðe, The collar sits on Hygelac still, prideful where he clasped it siðþan he under segne sinc ealgode, that dark morning, waves pushing him towards Frisia. wæl-reaf werede; hyne wyrd fornam, He fell under his shield, and his people’s flag covers them both. syþðan he for wlenco wean ahsode, fæhðe to Frysum. He þa frætwe wæg, A hand covers the collar and the eagle loses interest, eorclan-stanas ofer yða ful, Franks come for golden carrion once the bravery of battle is gone. rice þeoden; he under rande gecranc. Hygelac’s men sleep with him still, downed scarecrows Gehwearf þa in Francna fæþm feorh guarding a field of corpses. The wind has changed. cyninges, breost-gewædu ond se beah somod; wyrsan wig-frecan wæl reafedon æfter guð-sceare, Geata leode, hrea-wic heoldon.
Anon Translated from the Anglo-Saxon by Meghan Purvis
Meghan Purvis’ commentary
I translated Beowulf because I was intrigued English into modern English – echoes that most part have deliberately translated the by a poem so closely tied to the idea of tension between simultaneous closeness and poetry using modern metres and styles. I Englishness (it is, after all, the first epic distance. have also tried to express the myriad ways poem in our language), but so different from As you can imagine, this tension made of reading and understanding Beowulf what we think of as our English world. The for interesting work. I chose to translate – whether reading it as a hero worshipper, world of Beowulf is violent, feudal, and Beowulf from Old English poetry to or as a modern woman uncomfortable supernatural, but it is also a world deeply modern English poetry, translating it into with the extremely limited female presence concerned with very modern questions: do a modern poetic idiom, as an attempt to in the poem – by using many different we evaluate a person’s actions by words or produce an ancient English story told in characters and voices instead of translating by deeds? How do we value the ties that a modern English manner. I have retained with the omnipotent voice of a narrator. connect us? Is it possible to admire a hero some alliterative aspects of the original The narrative is split up into separate while questioning his heroics? Even the act – which I would argue is still a popular poems that, read together as a collection, of this translation itself – translating Old modern poetic technique – but for the tell the story of Beowulf.
14 Winners of the Open category
Totò Merumeni Toto Merumeni (after Guido Gozzano)
I I Col suo giardino incolto, le sale vaste, i bei Seventeenth century balconies decked balconi secentisti guarniti di verzura, with greenery; the unkempt garden; spacious rooms: la villa sembra tolta da certi versi miei, A villa so bookish I could be its architect, sembra la villa-tipo, del Libro di Lettura... the perfect scenery for one of my poems… Pensa migliori giorni la villa triste, pensa It has seen better days, summer balls gaie brigate sotto gli alberi centenari, beneath venerable oaktree and beech, banchetti illustri nella sala da pranzo immensa the great and the good gracing the halls e danze nel salone spoglio da gli antiquari. since stripped bare by dealers in antiques. Ma dove in altri tempi giungeva Casa Ansaldo, Times gone by, Lord or Ladyship arrived Casa Rattazzi, Casa d’Azeglio, Casa Oddone, comme il faut, name and crest to draw on; s’arresta un’automobile fremendo e sobbalzando, now a motor-car snorts and judders outside, villosi forestieri picchiano la gorgòne. its owner in new-fangled leather raps the gorgon. S’ode un latrato e un passo, si schiude cautamente A dog-bark, retreat of some steps upon the stair la porta... In quel silenzio di chiostro e di caserma as the door glides shut. Part-barracks part-cloister, vive Totò Merùmeni con una madre inferma, here’s the home Toto Merumeni shares with Mother, una prozia canuta ed uno zio demente. his white-haired aunt, an uncle who’s not all there.
II II Totò ha venticinque anni, tempra sdegnosa, Twenty-five, inkaholic with an expert sneer, molta cultura e gusto in opere d’inchiostro, enough culture for several lifetimes yet short on scarso cervello, scarsa morale, spaventosa morals or common sense, intuition chiaroveggenza: è il vero figlio del tempo nostro. to take away your breath, he’s Homunculus of the Year. Non ricco, giunta l’ora di “vender parolette” Not rich, instead of making money from letters (il suo Petrarca!...) e farsi baratto o gazzettiere, and pursuing a career as agent or hack, Totò scelse l’esilio. E in libertà riflette he chooses exile. Here he’s free to play back ai suoi trascorsi che sarà bello tacere. transgressions about which the less said the better. Non è cattivo. Manda soccorso di danaro Bad? But how – given he donates monthly to charity, al povero, all’amico un cesto di primizie; forwards complimentary copies of his collections non è cattivo. A lui ricorre lo scolaro to friends, ghost-writes for a pittance sections pel tema, l’emigrante per le commendatizie. of so-and-such’s thesis, acts as such-and-so’s referee? Gelido, consapevole di sé e dei suoi torti, Cold, all too aware of himself and his own wrongs, non è cattivo. È il buono che derideva il Nietzsche no, he’s not bad. Good even, at least as mocked by Nietzsche. “...in verità derido l’inetto che si dice ‘...in truth I deride the inept of whom one speaks buono, perché non ha l’ugne abbastanza forti...” well, only because his claws are insufficiently strong...’ Dopo lo studio grave, scende in giardino, gioca Immersed in studies, he descends all the same coi suoi dolci compagni sull’erba che l’invita; whenever his fans on the lawn call him out to play. i suoi compagni sono: una ghiandaia rôca, And who are they? A hoarse-voiced jay, un micio, una bertuccia che ha nome Makakita... a pussy-cat, this Barbary ape he’s renamed Fame.
III III La Vita si ritolse tutte le sue promesse. One by one takes back its promises – Egli sognò per anni l’Amore che non venne, Love with a big ‘L’ doesn’t get a second look – sognò pel suo martirio attrici e principesse Once he yearned after princesses and divas; ed oggi ha per amante la cuoca diciottenne. now his oats come courtesy of the teenage cook. Quando la casa dorme, la giovinetta scalza, The rest of the house asleep, barefoot she creeps fresca come una prugna al gelo mattutino, upstairs, fresh as a plum in morning frost, giunge nella sua stanza, lo bacia in bocca, balza reaches his room, between kisses, leaps su lui che la possiede, beato e resupino... and shimmies on top of him, supine, blessed.
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15 Winners of the Open category
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IV IV Totò non può sentire. Un lento male indomo His feeling bypass, a slow untamed pain inaridì le fonti prime del sentimento; has dried up the spring of sentiment; l’analisi e il sofisma fecero di quest’uomo self-analysis and sophistry do the same ciò che le fiamme fanno d’un edificio al vento. to him as wind round a burning tenement: Ma come le ruine che già seppero il fuoco And like the ruin that’s seen its share of flame esprimono i giaggioli dai bei vividi fiori, will by and by sprout exquisitely purple flowers, quell’anima riarsa esprime a poco a poco so this parched soul ventures now and again una fiorita d’esili versi consolatori... a nosegay of slender consoling verse.
V V Così Totò Merùmeni, dopo tristi vicende, Almost happy, after sundry interludes, quasi è felice. Alterna l’indagine e la rima. our Self-Tormentor alternates amateur Chiuso in se stesso, medita, s’accresce, esplora, intende psychology with rhyme, probes vicissitudes la vita dello Spirito che non intese prima. of the spirit which he hadn’t probed before. Perché la voce è poca, e l’arte prediletta Because his voice is small, Lit (Eng or It) immensa, perché il Tempo - mentre ch’io parlo! - va, immense, since life, even as I speak, flits by, Totò opra in disparte, sorride, e meglio aspetta. he cuts himself off to work, well, a bit – E vive. Un giorno è nato. Un giorno morirà. tends his smile. Born one day, one day he’ll die.
Guido Gozzano Translated from the Italian by Martin Bennett
Martin Bennett’s commentary
It may come as a surprise – it certainly did in this case is an alter-ego for the real-life Italian rhymes. This version tries as far to me – but J. Alfred Prufrock was alive poet Guido Gozzano. Labelled as one of as possible to maintain the meticulous and, well, not so well, in Northern Italy the ‘Crepusculari’, he has also been hailed rhyme scheme, although it sidesteps some years before T. S. Eliot’s more famous by Montale as the forerunner of modern parts of the original when the cultural version; alive and going under the unlikely Italian poetry, his variety of register and context demands, as for example in the name of Totò Merumeni, meaning in sense of irony a notable departure from list of Italian aristocratic names, ‘Casa Greek ‘self-punisher’, the name having the highfalutin’ poetics of D’Annunzio Ansaldo’, etc... Apologies for when the being used previously in a poem by and his followers who had come before. rhymes occasionally misfire. To rephrase Baudelaire and way before that by the Irony and self-deprecation are rather easier Auden, ‘A translation is never finished, Roman playwright Terence. The character to capture in English than the perfect only abandoned’.
16 Winners of the Open category
Medea Medea, choral extract 591–633 caecus est ignis stimulatus ira Blind is fire fed on anger nec regi curat patiturue frenos it has no care for rules or brakes aut timet mortem: cupit ire in ipsos no fear at all of death obuius enses. it’s drawn to it Parcite, o diui, ueniam precamur like steel uiuat ut tutus mare qui subegit. to bone sed furit uinci dominus profundi regna secunda. No hunger of forest fire ausus aeternos agitare currus No concrete storm at sea immemor metae iuuenis paternae No silence as the bomb tears quos polo sparsit furiosus ignes No violence of twisting blade ipse recepit. could ever match constitit nulli uia nota magno: a woman scorned uade qua tutum populo priori, a woman burning rumpe nec sacro uiolente sancta with hate foedera mundi. Quisquis audacis tetigit carinae The known road has no hidden toll nobiles remos nemorisque sacri it’s safe to tread the trodden path Pelion densa spoliauit umbra, quisquis intrauit scopulos uagantes Neptune rages at the binder of the sea et tot emensus pelagi labores yearns to destroy the man barbara funem religauit ora who spun a web raptor externi rediturus auri, around his world exitu diro temerata ponti We pray you gods forgive the Argo iura piauit. Forgive Jason let him live We pray you gods soothe soothe
Phaethon stole his father’s chariot chariot of the arching sun He disobeyed his father’s words scorched the earth burned himself alive The known road has no hidden toll it’s safe to tread the trodden path Tread it safe do not break natural laws All the Argonauts are dead the men who pulled those famous oars stripped thickwooded Pelion bare dead who sailed between the clashing cliffs suffered cruel tests on the open sea beached their ship on foreign land dead They came back stained with death A high price for innovation
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Exigit poenas mare prouocatum: The deep demanded punishment Tiphys, in primis domitor profundi, for their crime liquit indocto regimen magistro; litore externo, procul a paternis Tiphys original helm occidens regnis tumuloque uili first tamer of the deep tectus ignotas iacet inter umbras. dead Aulis amissi memor inde regis portibus lentis retinet carinas Orpheus with voice of honey stare querentes. whose lyre Ille uocali genitus Camena, hushed the winds and waves cuius ad chordas modulante plectro taught the birds to listen restitit torrens, siluere uenti, dead sown in a field in Thrace cui suo cantu uolucris relicto his severed head flowed down adfuit tota comitante silua, to the underworld Thracios sparsus iacuit per agros, no way back this time at caput tristi fluitauit Hebro: contigit notam Styga Tartarumque, non rediturus. Seneca Translated from the Latin by Henry Stead
Henry Stead’s commentary
The story of Medea has grown with me performance and audiovisual technologies. by foreign metres my words could not fill. since I first saw a production of Euripides’ There were a number of problems I faced So I used a free verse form for my dialogue play as a teenager. I chose Seneca’s rather in this translation, but the most important and captured Seneca’s formal and metrical than Euripides’ Medea because it is was how to make it accessible to non- shifts for the choral odes by adopting more criminally undervalued. Seneca maintains specialist audiences. Seneca’s verse play is regular, lyrical and stylised forms, which a relentless, hopeless and impending dense with allusion to Medea’s mythical can in performance be accompanied by horror from start to finish; a feat I admire past and classical myth in general. These music. Only in Medea’s spell scene did I use greatly. My ability to read Latin allows allusions can only work if their sources Seneca’s own otherworldly, almost tribal me to experience certain types of poetry are familiar to the audience (especially in beat, which I felt was too good to lose. that many readers and audiences now a ‘real-time’ performance context) and so My word positioning, partly influenced seldom get the chance. I feel that the I decided to simplify, ‘re-detonate’ and, by Hughes’ Oedipus, was at first designed longer poem is something worth fighting where I had to, cut those that might to help the cast deliver their lines, but later for, and I am fascinated by the possibilities create too much drag in the minds of my became another way by which I could of opening up bigger and more complex audience. I also wanted to reflect the effect catch certain traits of Seneca’s style. poems for contemporary audiences by live of Seneca’s metre without being hamstrung
18 The Stephen Spender Trust
Stephen Spender – poet, critic, editor and translator – 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.
English. Supported by the John S. Cohen from the Trust’s website. An academic Foundation, the Foyle Foundation, the conference was held the following day Derek Hill Foundation and a number at the Institute of English Studies, of individuals, the prize is judged in with papers given by John Sutherland, its inaugural year by Paul Muldoon, Barbara Hardy, Valentine Cunningham, Catriona Kelly and Sasha Dugdale. Peter McDonald, Mark Rawlinson, Alan Jenkins, Stephen Romer and Michael The archive programme Scammell. A second reading, by Fleur Essays and journalism Adcock, Grey Gowrie and Craig Raine, In May 2002 the Trust presented the took place in October 2009 at University The Times Stephen Spender Prize British Library with a collection of College, Oxford, where Stephen Spender This annual prize, launched in 2004, Stephen Spender’s published prose. was an undergraduate. celebrates the art of literary translation Representing around one million words and encourages young people to read of mainly essays and journalism, this Institute of English Studies Seminars foreign poetry at a time when literature collection covers 1924–94. The first of these took place on 20 October 2011 and explored the is no more than an optional module The New Collected Journals relationship between Stephen Spender’s (if that) in A level modern languages. These journals cover the years from the life and work and poetry and prose, Entrants translate a poem from any Second World War to Stephen Spender’s looking at key episodes in his life that language – modern or classical – into death in 1995. Edited by Natasha Spender, appear in multiple texts. Poet Alan English, and submit both the original John Sutherland and Lara Feigel, they Jenkins introduced an unpublished and their translation, together with a will be published by Faber in May 2012. commentary of not more than 300 words. poem recently discovered in the The Stephen Spender archive There are three categories (14-and-under, Spender archive and Lara Feigel and A long lifetime’s worth of manuscripts, 18-and-under and Open) with prizes in John Sutherland previewed their letters, diaries and other personal papers edition of Stephen Spender’s previously each category. is now housed in the Bodleian Library unpublished journals. They were joined Other translation projects and will soon be available to scholars. by the poet Christopher Reid, who Primary translation, 2010–2012 Events worked closely with Spender on his 1994 This collaboration between the Stephen Symposium, 2001 collection Dolphins. Spender Trust and Eastside Education The Institute for English Studies hosted a The 1930s: The Shape of Things to Be Trust, funded by Arts Council England, one-day symposium on ‘Stephen Spender The Trust has been working with three the Esmée Fairbairn Foundation and the and his Circle in the l930s’. scholars in the period, Lara Feigel, Juliet Mercers’ Company, will, by the summer Gardiner and Alan Powers, to develop a of 2012, have seen translators going into Queen Elizabeth Hall reading, 2004 proposal for an exhibition on the arts and 22 primary schools to run three-day Seamus Heaney, Tony Harrison, Harold the 1930s which will tell the story of the Pinter, Jill Balcon and Vanessa Redgrave translation workshops, reaching some decade through design, using a number of came together to celebrate the publication 1,300 children. In spring 2011 translators different art forms. We are now looking of Spender’s New Collected Poems. of French, Spanish, Portuguese, Polish, for a museum to take this idea forward. Arabic, Hindi and Gujarati held Auden centenary, 2007 workshops in twelve schools in Camden, In February 2007 we joined forces with Lambeth, Hounslow, Brighton & Hove, the British Library to mark W. H. Auden’s and Thanet. More information about the centenary with a reading of his poetry at Contacting the Trust project, including film footage and aids the Shaw Theatre by James Fenton, John For more information about the for teachers, is available on the Trust’s Fuller, Grey Gowrie, Andrew Motion, Stephen Spender Trust and its website. Sean O’Brien, Peter Porter and Richard activities, please contact: Howard. The programme was devised by The Joseph Brodsky/Stephen Spender Prize Robina Pelham Burn Grey Gowrie. This new worldwide Russian–English 3 Old Wish Road, translation prize, celebrating the Spender centenary, 2009 Eastbourne, rich tradition of Russian poetry and The first of the centenary celebrations East Sussex BN21 4JX commemorating the long friendship was a reading in February 2009 in the 01323 452294 between Joseph Brodsky and Stephen Royal Institution by Grey Gowrie, [email protected] Spender, was launched at the 2011 London Tony Harrison, Seamus Heaney, Barry www.stephen-spender.org Book Fair. Entrants, who may be of Humphries, Poet Laureate Andrew any nationality, are required to translate Motion and Natasha Spender. A record- a Russian poem of their choice into ing of the evening can be downloaded
The Stephen Spender Trust
Patrons Valerie Eliot, Lady Antonia Fraser cbe, Lord Gowrie pc, Drue Heinz dbe, David Hockney ch, Lois Sieff obe, Wole Soyinka
President Sir Michael Holroyd cbe*
Committee Jonathan Barker mbe, Lord Briggs, Joanna Clarke, Desmond Clarke, Professor Warwick Gould, Tony Harrison, Harriet Harvey Wood obe*, Seamus Heaney, Barry Humphries, Christopher MacLehose, Caroline Moorehead cbe, Robina Pelham Burn, 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 Images of Stephen Spender © the Estate of Humphrey Spender