This is a debate for anyone who can read two or more languages. I’ve read time and again how a book is so much better in the original language than the translation. This seems to me to be either excessive modesty or excessive snobbery (“I can read medievil Italian and you can’t”). Doesn’t it depend on how good a writer the translator is, or vice versa? So what do you think, are translations as good as the original or not?
If done well: Good.
If done poorly: Bad.
It’s tough to translate something into a different language and maintain the integrity of what’s being said. Sometimes, just dropping a word or two can change the entire meaning of what’s being said.
Just go check out some old chop-sockey movies to get a glimpse of what bad translation is… “Damn you, stink man!”
gotta admit that I can no longer read in two languages. However, after taking high school French, traveling to Europe for a couple of weeks where I got to speak French to folks who didn’t understand English, and then going to college and taking more French classes, I got to a point where I could read in French. Not just read/interpret to English and understand, read in French.
I remember reading something, laughing out loud, some one asked ‘what’s so funny’, and it wouldn’t translate well enough to be funny.
So, yes, for me I saw a difference.
Right. Back when I could still read a little Russian, I skimmed through Orwell’s 1984 in translation.
The very first sentence was a disappointment though.
English:
Translated back into English from the Russian:
Since Russian uses what we call military time anyway, “thirteen o’clock” is just what we’d say for “one in the afternoon.”
The imagery of the striking (important to the novel in the climax) and the bizarreness of a clock chime being struck in accordance with military time is completely lost. There is certaintly a way to translate it correctly into Russian but the translator didn’t bother to see the signifigance of the imagery.
Also, things like puns and wordplay are lost almost completely when translating out of English. How do you translate Jabberwocky into French? How do you translate detective noir genre stories (like Hammett or Spillane) into German or Italian without losing the whole tone of the narrative?
I imagine that it’s the same in reverse for other languages being translated into English. One of my ex-boyfriends was a fluent Francophone (through study…he was raised in Alberta), and I’d often have to ask him what was so funny when he’d chat with French-speaking friends on-line. He tried to translate a fair number of French wordplay jokes for me, but they were absolutely unfunny in English…meaningless, really.
Possibly not the best example, Jabberwocky- check out:
http://www76.pair.com/keithlim/jabberwocky/translations/index.html
I find most of them as funny as the original.
Well, strictly speaking, most books that are translated probably are better in the original language. But I’d rather read a well-translated yet still not-quite-perfect novel than not read it at all.
The excessive snobbery comes in at the point where someone says “You’d have been better off not reading it at all if you don’t read it in the original language.” To which I say, “Why are you even speaking my barbarian language at all then? Go back to France.” Of course, if they say it in French, then I’ll just furrow my brow and tell them where the bathroom is in pantomime.
Translation is definitely an art, especially with fiction.
Others have already mentioned the difficulty of translating wordplay. Also consider: do you do a word-for-word translation, and let the reader research the cultural significance of the names, places, and events, or do you try and find analagous names, places and events that have the same meaning in the language you’re translating into?
That paragraph alone was enough to turn my brain into tapioca on the subject. If you’re still interested, go check out Le Ton Beau De Marot by Douglas Hofstadter. It’s a thousand plus page book about translating a poem that fits on a bookmark. He’s got some insightful essays on the same topic in Metamagical Themas.
-fh
For having done translations, I do not consider myself a writer. I am just transmitting the information the best way possible. Unfortunately, some cannot be transmitted or paraphrased. So, yes, IMO it is better to read in the original language (and LOTS of stuff, never gets translated). But, if it is not available, most translation are very good. Another thing, check, if possible, if it is translated by a native speaker of the language into which it is translated. For example, I am much better translating from English to French than from French to English.
This is valid only for written material. Dubbing… now THAT’S something else entirely !
All your base are belong to us
Sometimes translations can be quite funny:) Like jmanually said about George Orwells book. He was writing about the evils of communism that even clocks would be changed to military time. Naturally someone living in a communistic society would see some of those as normal.
Well, one of my college buddies translates Japanese comix (manga) into English. (He’s an American who learned Japanese as an adult.) He is at the disadvantage of having to fit his words into the existing word balloons, so as not to overwrite the existing art. (whew!) Having watched brain-rotting quantities of anime, and spent about a year in Japan, he has some interesting insights about translation. His specialty is the funny stuff (rather than the adventure stuff)…he says that he often replaces the joke, rather than translating it directly, because it isn’t funny anymore if you have to explain what the reference is. If the reference is, say, to a Japanese holiday that Americans wouldn’t have heard of, he tries to make it a reference to a similarly-themed American holiday. And still funny. I guess the point is that he tries to make it feel the same…but whether the translation is better than the original would depend on whether you think my friend is funnier than the original author. In other words, it’s certainly different, but better/worse may depend on your individual writer/translator’s talents.
mostly from English to French but I can usually manage without any problem the other way around. Having said that, I would definitely prefer reading a book in its original form. (Same with films, BTW.) There are excellent translations of literary works, but a translation is, by definition, more or less imprecise depending on the subject matter at hand. Perfect transfer from one culture to another is next to impossible in my opinion. In the case of puns and wordplays which, more often than not, have no direct equivalent in the other culture, you have to adapt your translation as best you can (although, exceptionally, the image chosen can be even more topical than the one used in the original text).
Yes, translation is an art. I’ve been at it for thirty years and I certainly still haven’t mastered it yet.
I do a lot of translating from Latin into English. And those crazy Romans, you’ll have whle stories where they’ll name 3 or 4 guys in the opening and then just refer to them as he from then on. He said to him that he had gone to his place. That man said to him that he felt cold. Or more annoying they leave out a ton of stuff. Literally translated it would become “That man killed the brother.” They would almost never say his brother. They have absolutely no punctuation, the words in a typical clause can be in almost any order. And those bloody ablative absolutes. Now Roman literature was all meant to be read aloud. I don’t have the exact dates but people didn’t begin reading quietly to themselves until quite resently, probably when newspapers became really common in the 17th century. So it’s all written not to be said but heard. Net result no matter how fluent I am in Latin I would rather read an exelent prose English version then the Latin version.
However I don’t think that way about modern languages. Except for maybe character languages where you have thousands upon thousands of them to memorize. So yeah I’d rather read the original French of Russian, but not Latin.
And then there’s a Spanish translation of the lovely W.D. Snodgrass poetry book Heart’s Needle, wherein the word “sunflower”, instead of being translated into the same word in Spanish, has been translated as “flower of sun.”
I translate works from French, German, Latin, Greek, Old English, and Occitan.
Before addressing the question head on, it’s important to determine the intent of the translator as he approaches the document.
Translations as school texts are extremely useful. They are excellent aids for students who are attempting to acquire a foreign language. These translations are usually slavish, and attempt to capture the grammar and idiom of the foreign language while staying as close to the original text as possible. The ancients called these translations Ad Verbum.
A literal translation is extremely useful when translating technical or legalistic texts, where the precise meaning is more important than the literary sense.
When capturing the sense is more important than respecting the grammar, an Ad Sensum translation is more useful. When done properly, they are arguably not even translations, but appropriations of the literature of one language into another. Cicero’s famous translation of Plato’s Republic into de re publica is one of the greatest examples of this kind of literary translation. He turns Plato’s treatise into an extremely Roman work on metaphysics, with different characters, different dialogues, etc.
I believe that translators should either stick to school texts or abandon the idiom of the original language altogether. In my experience there is no middle ground. Hence it does take a fine writer to produce a fine translation, for only someone with a solid grasp of the idiom of his own language should ever embark on a literary translation of another.
It takes a poet to translate a poet.
MR
Don’t forget the many poor translations of advertising slogans. While simple examples they illustrate the problems of translations nicely (BTW: The one about the Chevy Nova in Mexico is an urban legend…I think the ones below are true though).
Use Parker Pens to avoid embarrassment --> “Use Parker pens if you want to avoid having babies” (in Spanish)
Coca-Cola --> “Bite the wax tadpole” (in Chinese although Coca-Cola did not make this mistake but rather Chinese vendors did)
“Pepsi Comes Alive” --> “Pepsi brings your ancestors back to life” (in Chinese)
We pray for MacArthur’s erection. – (in English from Japanese…when MacArthur was considering a run for President)
You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid. – (in English from Japanese from a guest directory at a Japanese hotel.)
"It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken --> “It takes a virile man to make a chicken pregnant.” (in Spanish from a Purdue chicken ad)
Just like Jeff_42 said above, mistakes are commonplace in many advertising translations between many different languages. I used to pass by a small Japanese supermarket daily on my way to work. They have a section in the market called “flesh food” - simple reversal of the “l” and “r” sounds. I think they actually meant “fresh food”.
There are times when I need to translate documents for others from Japanese to English or vice versa. I think the biggest difficulty is maitaining the overall feel of the original document, even when some words or phrases cannot be directly translated. Granted, straightforward instructional documents are not that hard, but when you have to get across an idea or convey an emotion… that is when it gets to be tough.
Questions of translation have been around for ages. Most people, I think, can both find amusement in the transliteration errors that gave rise to babelfish and understand the need for straightforward, as-little-interpretation-as-possible versions of legal documents, historical records, etc.
Literature is another matter. Ever since Newman-Arnold III [/sub]The Sextet’s Revenge![/sub][sup]2[/sup] literary translators have been hammering at each other like over the hill athletes in a beer commercial. More literal! Interpretation’s great!
Frankly, I think both paradigms risk sacrificing beauty to technique. In English, A Thousand Nights and a Night has an air of the fantastic which is absolutely fitting to the subject and entirely lacking in the original. But this is a literal translation. A translation more true to the “sense” of the arabic would be, A thousand and One Nights. On the other hand, a literal translation of “good morning” into Spanish would be “Bueno manana”. Even avoiding such obvious errors, we see things like the first stanza of Noche Oscura del Alma by San Juan de la Cruz which ends with the line:
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
being my house calm (transliteration)
when my house was quiet (literal translation)
when all the house was hushed (Roy campbell’s interpretive translation.)
The third option is clearly richer poetically than the literal translation (and arguably richer than the Spanish original). Similarly, an interpretive translation can capture the richness of expression in the original but risks not only the substitution of the translator’s emphasis for the author’s but the loss of “character” preserved in some literal translations. The “song of songs” is more evocative than any interpretive superlative an English translation might supply.
So literal translation can both yield unexpected treasures and transform poetry into a grocery list. Interpretive translations can capture (or enrich) poetic impact and depress the poet’s intent.
In German, Umdichtung means a new poem written around the original (as opposed to nachdichtung and ubersetzung: translations). I think this is a fine distinction. If music is a language which can be unterstood but not translated, then poetry is a language which can be evoked but not translated.
I would parrot maeglin’s caveat with just that one revision.
It takes a poet to evoke a poet.
[sup]1[/sup][sub]The examples in this post draw liberally from Borges This Craft of verse (collection of Harvard lectures). It is a marvelous book, and i recommend it highly to anyone who cares about language or poetry. Any appearance of erudition or linguistic knowledge should be understood as independent of myself.[/sub]
[sup]2[/sup][sub]Yes, I know the argument predated both francis Newman and Matthew Arnold, but they did such a nice job of encapsulating the issue in academic bile that I thought they should be recognized.
I know that the original Japanese I have read is better than the translated Japanese I have read. There is certainly a little bit of what you might be able to call “snobbery” involved in this. It took a long time and lots of study to get to the point where I could comfortably read a Japanese novel, and part of the enjoyment of reading still lies at least to some extent in that “wow! I’m READING JAPANESE!!” feeling. But I doubt that really counts as snobbery.
If you are talking about literature…well, literary novelists carefully choose all their words and arrange them just the way they want them. Considering this fact, I would say it is absolutely impossible to completely capture not only the surface meaning of an author’s words, but also the meaning he was trying to get across UNDER those words. Another poster offered an example where “sunflower” was translated into Spanish as “flower of the sun.” It occurred to me that perhaps the translator felt that the actual type of flower was not as important as conveying the ideas of “sun” and “flower.” I assume that the Spanish equivalent does not contain the word “sun.”
As for word play…forget it. And when translating Japanese, there are so many extra greetings in this language that just don’t have any equivalent in English. You say one thing when you see someone at work. Something else when you go to the convenience store. Something else when you come home…even if you find some sort of approximation for these expressions, it is impossible to translate the culture that is behind them.
Translations can be good for the purpose of gaining knowledge of a really significant foreign work (the Bible springs instantly to mind) but can not really be depended on to perfectly convey the intent and personality of the original author. However, I suppose one could treat the translation separately, seeing it as more of an adaptation.
Another translator weighing in - both professional (corpdocs, French -> English) and amateur (English -> French, Spanish, Esperanto, Italian, and vice versa).
Translation is definitely an art form, and for me it’s one of the most deeply satisfying ways of interpreting a text. When I see a botched translation I get furious, in a way that tells me I deeply believe in the possibility of an excellent translation.
For example, once I read a translation of “Le Vaisseau d’or” by Emile Nelligan, wherein the translator had rendered the lines
by describing the treasures as disgusting, hateful and neurotic, not the sailors. Obviously a traitorous reversal of the original text by a completely inept and irresponsible paraphrast.
This feeling is the exact opposite of the ecstatic joy (not exaggerating here - I’m REALLY into this) when I catch the perfect way to render a difficult structure. For example, one of my hobbies is trying to translate poems. Sometimes it goes poorly; but other times, I get truly glorious moments. For example, I was translating e.e. cummings’ poem “pity this busy monster, manunkind”… obviously the problem is how to render the word “manunkind”. It’s always a mix of wit and sheer luck in the target language to get out of these kinds of problems. I was translating it into Esperanto; I thought about the word “homaro” (humankind) and then I suddenly figured it out: “homamaro” (amaro = bitterness). I preserved both senses of “manunkind”: mankind and unkindness. It made my whole week and I told everybody about it until they were sick of it.
This is why I have to disagree with Nabokov (as quoted in Le Ton beau mentioned above - which, by the way, despite the title is in English). He condemns everyone involved in all but the most brutally word-for-word translations as “dainty mimics” who “traduce their author” and produce works that “are fit for students and the general public and such but not for serious scholarship”. Well, who else is going to read a translation? A serious scholar of that literature can already read it in the original; but in works as described (he was discussing Pushkin’s Evgeniy Onegin, a novel in sparkling verse) nobody else is going to read it unless it is presented with the wit and verve of the original. Nabokov’s ideal product, a prickly, styleless forest of parentheses and footnotes, does far more to betray the author’s intent (a novel in beautiful, polished verse) than anything.
Personally, what I like best is to read both the original and the translation, if possible, or to write my own translation. (That’s what I did with “Le Vaisseau d’or” above.) That way I can appreciate both the artistry of the original and of the translation.
Art is found, not lost in translation.