Reading further, we see the following: "er ruft streicht dunkler die Geigen dann steigt ihr als Rauch in die Luft," which has been translated, by Christopher Middleton, as "he shouts stroke darker the strings and as smoke you shall climb to the sky." This is also not very good. "stroke darker the strings"? Really?
The word Geige means, literally, "fiddle." And Geigen is plural, thus "fiddles." So literally, "He shouts play the fiddles more darkly so it rises as smoke in the air." Better. Better still: "He shouts play your fiddles obscurely so you'll rise as smoke in the air."
Now, once we recognize the musical context, the meaning of "meister" becomes clear. Celan is not referring to a "master," but to a "meister," as in the well-known German-English conglomerate, "concertmeister." Thus in a musical context the German meister literally means, not "master," but "music master." And there actually is no good English term for the word we need. But there is an Italian one: maestro. And since maestro is used freely among English speakers to refer to a musical "master," then maestro is what we need: "Death is a maestro from Germany" is how the phrase ought to be translated -- but, to my knowledge, never is.
So. What's my point? My point is that a decent translation into English, from any other language, requires, first of all, a translator who is either a native English speaker or someone who, like a Nabokov or a Conrad, has made himself a true master of that language. And second of all, someone who insists on producing coherent and idiomatic English while adhering as closely as possible to the literal meaning.
Some years ago, I wrote a play inspired by a poem of Bertolt Brecht titled Vom armen B.B. ("On the Poor B.B."), which begins with the phrase I took as my title, "I Bertolt Brecht." I'd have been happy to use someone else's translation of this poem, but was unable to find one that satisfied me. For example, let's take the first verse. Here's the original:
Ich, Bertolt Brecht, bin aus den schwarzen Waeldern.
Meine Mutter trug mich in die Staedte hinein
Als ich in ihrem Leibe lag. Und die Kaelte der Waelder
Wird in mir bis zu meinem Absterben sein.
And here's a translation by Michael Hamburger, as it appears in the standard English language edition of Brecht's poetry:
I, Bertolt Brecht, came out of the black forests.
My mother moved me into the cities as I lay
Inside her body. And the coldness of the forests
Will be inside me till my dying day.
Though Hamburger is well known for his Brecht translations, this one strikes me as truly feeble. It is definitely not the work of a native English speaker and the language is decidedly unidiomatic. The phrase "bin aus den schwarzen Waeldern" is, literally, "am from the black forests." Substituting "came out of" for "am from" seems arbitrary, adds an unnecessary word, and adds nothing to the phrase's effectiveness. In the next line, "trug mich" is translated as "moved me," which sounds odd in English, as though his mother was a trucker or something like that. Mothers don't "move" their children, they "take" them.
"Lay inside her body" is extremely awkward. While literally fetuses lie inside the body of their mothers, the idiomatic English expression is "lay in her womb." "Coldness of the forests" is acceptable, I suppose, but a bit clunky -- "cold of the forests" is also correct, and more efficient. Finally, "Will be inside me" also sounds a bit clunky. And "inside" has already been used in the preceding line, an unfortunate repetition which should have been caught. "Will be with me" works much better. As one might guess, I take Hemingway very seriously when he says, "When in doubt, strike it out." In this case, four syllables are preferable to five.
And here's a translation by Michael Hamburger, as it appears in the standard English language edition of Brecht's poetry:
I, Bertolt Brecht, came out of the black forests.
My mother moved me into the cities as I lay
Inside her body. And the coldness of the forests
Will be inside me till my dying day.
Though Hamburger is well known for his Brecht translations, this one strikes me as truly feeble. It is definitely not the work of a native English speaker and the language is decidedly unidiomatic. The phrase "bin aus den schwarzen Waeldern" is, literally, "am from the black forests." Substituting "came out of" for "am from" seems arbitrary, adds an unnecessary word, and adds nothing to the phrase's effectiveness. In the next line, "trug mich" is translated as "moved me," which sounds odd in English, as though his mother was a trucker or something like that. Mothers don't "move" their children, they "take" them.
"Lay inside her body" is extremely awkward. While literally fetuses lie inside the body of their mothers, the idiomatic English expression is "lay in her womb." "Coldness of the forests" is acceptable, I suppose, but a bit clunky -- "cold of the forests" is also correct, and more efficient. Finally, "Will be inside me" also sounds a bit clunky. And "inside" has already been used in the preceding line, an unfortunate repetition which should have been caught. "Will be with me" works much better. As one might guess, I take Hemingway very seriously when he says, "When in doubt, strike it out." In this case, four syllables are preferable to five.
Another well-known Brecht translator, Eric Bentley, born in Britain, thus a native English speaker, does much better:
I, Bertolt Brecht, come from the black forests.
My mother bore me to the cities while I lay
Inside her. And the coldness of the forests
Will be with me till my dying day.
Idiomatic English, yes. But not quite perfect. For one thing, "come from" bothers me. "Bin aus" means literally "am from," and since that's perfectly idiomatic why not use it? My own preference is for "am of," not because it's literally the most accurate, but because it better suits the overall tenor of the poem as a whole, imo. "My mother bore me" is OK, but I'm bothered by the word "bore." For a woman to "bear" a child implies giving birth to the child, not carrying it from one place to the other in her womb. And "while I lay inside her," while literally true, is not idiomatic for this kind of situation. Fetuses don't "lie inside" their mothers, they lay in their mother's womb. And, once again, "coldness" is less efficient than simply "cold." Finally, "with me till my dying day" seems wordy to me. Why not, simply, "to my death"?
Here, for better or worse, is what I came up with:
I, Bertolt Brecht, am of the dark forests.
My mother took me from there to the cities
As I lay in her womb. And the cold of the forests
Will be with me to my death.
Since my play is about the transmogrification of myself, Victor Grauer (literally, the "I" of the poem), into Bertolt Brecht, I decided to include three versions of each verse of this autobiographical poem: first in the original German, then in English translation (my own, since I could find nothing better) and finally a paraphrase reflecting certain parallels between Brecht and myself. I prefer my own translation because, to me at least, it sounds more idiomatic than any others I've seen, and also because I've managed to preserve, in most instances, the original rhyme scheme:
Vom armen B. B. -- On poor B. B. -- On good old V.G.
I, Bertolt Brecht, come from the black forests.
My mother bore me to the cities while I lay
Inside her. And the coldness of the forests
Will be with me till my dying day.
Idiomatic English, yes. But not quite perfect. For one thing, "come from" bothers me. "Bin aus" means literally "am from," and since that's perfectly idiomatic why not use it? My own preference is for "am of," not because it's literally the most accurate, but because it better suits the overall tenor of the poem as a whole, imo. "My mother bore me" is OK, but I'm bothered by the word "bore." For a woman to "bear" a child implies giving birth to the child, not carrying it from one place to the other in her womb. And "while I lay inside her," while literally true, is not idiomatic for this kind of situation. Fetuses don't "lie inside" their mothers, they lay in their mother's womb. And, once again, "coldness" is less efficient than simply "cold." Finally, "with me till my dying day" seems wordy to me. Why not, simply, "to my death"?
Here, for better or worse, is what I came up with:
I, Bertolt Brecht, am of the dark forests.
My mother took me from there to the cities
As I lay in her womb. And the cold of the forests
Will be with me to my death.
Since my play is about the transmogrification of myself, Victor Grauer (literally, the "I" of the poem), into Bertolt Brecht, I decided to include three versions of each verse of this autobiographical poem: first in the original German, then in English translation (my own, since I could find nothing better) and finally a paraphrase reflecting certain parallels between Brecht and myself. I prefer my own translation because, to me at least, it sounds more idiomatic than any others I've seen, and also because I've managed to preserve, in most instances, the original rhyme scheme:
Vom armen B. B. -- On poor B. B. -- On good old V.G.
German poem by Bertolt Brecht, interleaved with English
translation by Victor Grauer and paraphrase, also by Victor Grauer
Ich, Bertolt Brecht, bin aus den schwarzen Waeldern.
Meine Mutter trug mich in die Staedte hinein
Als ich in ihrem Leibe lag.
Und die Kaelte der Waelder
Wird in mir bis zu meinem Absterben sein.
I, Bertolt Brecht, am of the dark forests.
My mother took me from there to the cities
As I lay in her womb.
And the cold of the forests
Will be with me to my death.
I, Victor Grauer, am of the white river.
My parents once took me to New York City
On a boat. And the
winds of that voyage
Will blow through me all my life.
In der Asphaltstadt bin ich daheim. Von allem Anfang
Versehen mit jedem Sterbsakrament:
Mit Zeitungen. Und
Tabak. Und Branntwein.
Misstrauisch und faul und zufrieden am End.
In the asphalt city I feel at home. Right from the start
With every last sacrament supplied:
With newspapers. And
tobacco. And brandy.
Mistrustful and lazy and, in the end, self-satisfied.
In New York City was I at home. Until the day I left
Supplied with every last sacrament:
The Village Voice.
And Schimmelpfennig cigars. And
Jack Daniels "Sippin" Whiskey.
Cynical and lazy and far too self‑confident.
Ich bin zu den Leuten freundlich. Ich setze
Einen steifen Hut auf nach ihrem Brauch.
Ich sage: es sind
ganz besonders riechende Tiere
Und ich sage: es
macht nichts, ich bin es auch.
I'm a friendly sort.
I set
A Bowler on my head as people do.
I say: They’re animals with a very peculiar odor.
And I add: it doesn't matter, I’m one too.
A floppy hat so I’ll stand out.
I say: people are very very strange
And I ask: isn’t that what it’s all about?
In meine leeren Schaukelstuehle vormittags
Setze ich mir mitunter ein paar Frauen
Und ich betrachte sie sorglos und sage ihnen:
In mir habt ihr einen, auf den koennt ihr nicht bauen.
Mornings, in my empty rocking chairs,
I bring some ladies nigh,
Study them casually and say:
I’m one on whom you can't rely.
Mornings I fantasize about finding a lady
To rock in my all too empty chair.
She’ll study me casually, and say:
Why don’t you come over here?
Gegen abends versammle ich um mich Maenner
Wir reden uns da mit "Gentlemen" an
Sie haben ihre Fuesse auf meinen Tischen
Und sagen: es wird
besser mit uns. Und ich frage
nicht: wann.
Toward evening I gather some men around me.
We address one another as "Meine Herren."
They place their feet up on my table
And say: our time
will come. I don't ask: when.
From time to time I get together with a friend or two.
We address one another as "Monsieur."
They plant their muddy feet on my brand new rug.
One says: I've got a
promising interview coming up next week.
And I say: Oh, sure.
Gegen Morgen in der grauen Fruehe pissen die Tannen
Und ihr Ungeziefer, die Voegel, faengt an zu schrein.
Um die Stunde trink ich mein Glas in der Stadt aus und
schmeisse
Den Tabakstummel weg und schlafe beunruhigt ein.
Toward morning in the grey dawn the fir trees piss
And their vermin the birds begin to cheep.
At that hour, in the city, I drain my glass, stub out
My cigar and drift into troubled sleep.
And its victims the fish begin to weep.
At that hour, in the city, I rise to take a piss, then flush
The toilet and return to fitful sleep.
Wir sind gesessen ein leichtes Geschlechte
In Hausern, die fur unzerstoerbare galten
(So haben wir gebaut die langen Gehause des Eilands
Manhattan
Und die dunnen Antennen, die das Atlantische Meer
unterhalten).
We, a heedless generation, have made ourselves at home
In buildings we thought immune to destruction
(Thus we erected the skyscrapers of Manhattan
And the thin antennae which bemuse the Atlantic Ocean).
My generation has made itself homeless
In mad pursuit of some vague ideal
(Thus we dabbled in drugs and religion,
Trod the thin red line between the real and the unreal).
Von diesen Staedten wird bleiben: der durch sie
hindurchging, der Wind!
Froehlich machet das Haus den Esser: er leert es.
Wir wissen, dass wir Vorlaeufige sind
Und nach uns wird kommen: nichts Nennenswertes.
Of these cities will remain: that which passed through them
— the Wind!
The house makes the diner merry: he wolfs it down.
We know we’re not here for long
And after us will come: nothing of much renown.
Of our dreams will remain: that which fueled them — hot air!
The balloon will lift slightly, then falter and sag.
We know we’ve been here much too long
Life after Fifty is really a drag.
Bei den Erdbeben, die kommen werden, werde ich hoffentlich
Meine Virginia nicht ausgehen lassen durch Bitterkeit
Ich, Bertolt Brecht, in die Asphaltstaedte verschlagen
Aus den schwartzen Waeldern in meiner Mutter in frueher
Zeit.
In the earthquakes to come, I hope I won’t
Let bitterness dim my cigar’s red glow
I, Bertolt Brecht, smuggled to the asphalt city
From the dark forests in my mother long ago.
Start smoking again in desperation
I, Victor Grauer, forced on board the boat
To New York City by the older generation.
No comments:
Post a Comment