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Through Norton World Poetry, which goes from the Bronze age to about yesterday, I've encountered many new poets, and realized with a good deal of guilt that I like most of the French poets much better in English. This is, in part, because of the translations chosen, which are often very free. For instance, Georg Heym's Die Seefahrer.
Die Stirnen der Länder, rot und edel wie Kronen
Sahen wir schwinden dahin im versinkenden Tag
Und die rauschenden Kränze der Wälder thronen
Unter des Feuers dröhnendem Flügelschlag.
Die zerflackenden Bäume mit Trauer zu schwärzen,
Brauste ein Sturm. Sie verbrannten, wie Blut,
Untergehend, schon fern. Wie über sterbenden Herzen
Einmal noch hebt sich der Liebe verlodernde Glut.
Aber wir trieben dahin, hinaus in den Abend der Meere,
Unsere Hände brannten wie Kerzen an.
Und wir sahen die Adern darin, und das schwere
Blut vor der Sonne, das dumpf in den Fingern zerrann.
Nacht begann. Einer weinte im Dunkel. Wir schwammen
Trostlos mit schrägem Segel ins Weite hinaus.
Aber wir standen am Borde im Schweigen beisammen
In das Finstre zu starren. Und das Licht ging uns aus.
Eine Wolke nur stand in den Weiten noch lange,
Ehe die Nacht begann, in dem ewigen Raum
Purpurn schwebend im All, wie mit schönem Gesange
Über den klingenden Gründen der Seele ein Traum.
And the translation*:
We saw the brows of countries, worthy of crowns,
and crimson, too, cut down in the day's demise,
and the rustling crests of forests in their thrones
under the hammering wingbeat of solar fires.
A storm arose to deck the flickering trees
with mourning: burning them off like blood descending
in the distance. Thus from a broken heart the embers
of love flare up before its final rending.
We pushed much farther into the ocean's evening.
Our hands caught fire like a candelabra.
Each vein clear cut, the thick blood eddying
from our fingers, the sun eluding our grasp.
Night fell. Somebody sobbed in the dark. We drifted,
hope gone our of our sails and out of our souls.
We kept a silent vigil on the deck
to unravel the shadows, but our light went dead.
One cloud hovered for a moment in the distance
before night went about its shady business.
It hung there, staining the sky with indigo
like a sweet-voiced dream sounding the depths of the soul.
Now, I like the translation, by Christopher Benfey, a good deal. It is, after all, what drew me to the poem in the first place. There are a couple of places where it falters, on second inspection, on its own. "like blood descending/its final rending" feels forced as a rhyme and as line ends. "Hope gone out of our sails and out of souls" is awkward and would be well served by eliminating the second "out of." "Its shady business" is not in keeping with the tone of the rest of the poem. But on the whole, it's quite lovely, with a couple of outstanding lines.
As a translation of the poem, though, it's not as strong. The "headlands of countries" are not "worthy of crowns,/ and crimson too" but rather "red and noble like crowns." My German is not yet good enough to know the register of "rot" or what it would evoke for a German. It is, though, the unmarked color; "crimson" most decidedly is not. "Crimson" calls up damask and blood, kings and vampires. Calling the headlands "worthy of crowns" demolished Heym's image, which is that the headlands themselves are like crowns; it is an image, rather than an abstraction.
"Under the hammering wingbeat of solar fires," which I like very much, translates "Unter des Feuers dröhnendem Flügelschlag" unexactly. A literal translations would be "under the booming wingbeats of the fire;" why is "solar" added to the fire? I am not sure that that is what was intended; if it is, it is subtler to leave it out, as Heym himself did.
"Our hands caught fire like candles." Thus Heym. Benfey: "like a candelabra." again, a much higher register than the German. A Kerze is a simple household object; a candelabra is a furnishing, and an old-fashioned one at that.
"Und wir sahen die Adern darin, und das schwere/ Blut vor der Sonne, das dumpft in den Fingern zerrann." A very literal translation "And we saw the veins in them [our hands], and the thick/blood, in front of the sun, melt away dully in our fingers." The image is a clear one: the men on the ship hold their hands up to the sunlight, seeing the sun shine though the flesh. And Benfey: "...Each vein clear cut, the thick blood eddying/ from our fingers, the sun eluding our grasp." The lines are, perhaps, more overtly "poetic;" but the everyday beauty of Heym's conceit is gone. The sun in the original is a glorified lamp, an agent rather than the object of the men's grasp.
"Hope gone out of our sails and out of our souls" is particularly unjustifiable because it doesn't translate anything. The line is "Wir schwammen/ Trostlos mit schrägem Segel ins Weite hinaus," "we swam/ desolate with oblique sail into the distance," lovely on its own. This entire stanza is particularly lacking: "We kept a silent vigil on the deck/ to unravel the shadows, but our light went dead" barely translates "Aber wir standen am Borde im Schweigen beisammen/ In das Finstre zu starren. Und das Licht ging uns aus." Where Benfey has "unravel" the German reads "stare into." There is no conceivable reason for this change. Further, Benfey makes the last line into a single sentence, losing the fatality of "Und das Licht ging uns aus."
The last stanzas have little to do with each other. They touch at points, but Benfey's translation conveys a feeling very different from that of Heym's original, though I am happy to note that "sounding the depths of the soul" is fairly close to what Heym wrote.
Further, the first three stanzas of the translation rhyme ABAC; the last two do not at all. While I appreciate the difficultly of translating rhyme, I believe that consistency is important; if the rhyme cannot be maintained, it should not be attempted. (Heym rhymes ABAB all the way through.)
Is this a good translation? It depends on what you want from a translation. It is, quibbles aside, a good poem in English, as the original is a good poem in German. And perhaps that's all that's important - that the quality of the poem is preserved, and perhaps some of the ideas, as in the Renaissance English translations of the ancients. However, it seems that Benfey attempted a more literal translation (except in the last stanza, which only touches upon the German). On that account he has failed - he changes images, he alters the feeling of the poem by, for example, using 'crimson' for Heym's 'red.'
Benfey's main failing is a tendency to use the ostentatious (crimson, candelabra), where Heym has the discipline to limit himself to the everyday and to use the abstract where Heym is strongly rooted in the concrete.
*BTW I totally tried to do side-by-side text and it is v. complicated.
Die Stirnen der Länder, rot und edel wie Kronen
Sahen wir schwinden dahin im versinkenden Tag
Und die rauschenden Kränze der Wälder thronen
Unter des Feuers dröhnendem Flügelschlag.
Die zerflackenden Bäume mit Trauer zu schwärzen,
Brauste ein Sturm. Sie verbrannten, wie Blut,
Untergehend, schon fern. Wie über sterbenden Herzen
Einmal noch hebt sich der Liebe verlodernde Glut.
Aber wir trieben dahin, hinaus in den Abend der Meere,
Unsere Hände brannten wie Kerzen an.
Und wir sahen die Adern darin, und das schwere
Blut vor der Sonne, das dumpf in den Fingern zerrann.
Nacht begann. Einer weinte im Dunkel. Wir schwammen
Trostlos mit schrägem Segel ins Weite hinaus.
Aber wir standen am Borde im Schweigen beisammen
In das Finstre zu starren. Und das Licht ging uns aus.
Eine Wolke nur stand in den Weiten noch lange,
Ehe die Nacht begann, in dem ewigen Raum
Purpurn schwebend im All, wie mit schönem Gesange
Über den klingenden Gründen der Seele ein Traum.
And the translation*:
We saw the brows of countries, worthy of crowns,
and crimson, too, cut down in the day's demise,
and the rustling crests of forests in their thrones
under the hammering wingbeat of solar fires.
A storm arose to deck the flickering trees
with mourning: burning them off like blood descending
in the distance. Thus from a broken heart the embers
of love flare up before its final rending.
We pushed much farther into the ocean's evening.
Our hands caught fire like a candelabra.
Each vein clear cut, the thick blood eddying
from our fingers, the sun eluding our grasp.
Night fell. Somebody sobbed in the dark. We drifted,
hope gone our of our sails and out of our souls.
We kept a silent vigil on the deck
to unravel the shadows, but our light went dead.
One cloud hovered for a moment in the distance
before night went about its shady business.
It hung there, staining the sky with indigo
like a sweet-voiced dream sounding the depths of the soul.
Now, I like the translation, by Christopher Benfey, a good deal. It is, after all, what drew me to the poem in the first place. There are a couple of places where it falters, on second inspection, on its own. "like blood descending/its final rending" feels forced as a rhyme and as line ends. "Hope gone out of our sails and out of souls" is awkward and would be well served by eliminating the second "out of." "Its shady business" is not in keeping with the tone of the rest of the poem. But on the whole, it's quite lovely, with a couple of outstanding lines.
As a translation of the poem, though, it's not as strong. The "headlands of countries" are not "worthy of crowns,/ and crimson too" but rather "red and noble like crowns." My German is not yet good enough to know the register of "rot" or what it would evoke for a German. It is, though, the unmarked color; "crimson" most decidedly is not. "Crimson" calls up damask and blood, kings and vampires. Calling the headlands "worthy of crowns" demolished Heym's image, which is that the headlands themselves are like crowns; it is an image, rather than an abstraction.
"Under the hammering wingbeat of solar fires," which I like very much, translates "Unter des Feuers dröhnendem Flügelschlag" unexactly. A literal translations would be "under the booming wingbeats of the fire;" why is "solar" added to the fire? I am not sure that that is what was intended; if it is, it is subtler to leave it out, as Heym himself did.
"Our hands caught fire like candles." Thus Heym. Benfey: "like a candelabra." again, a much higher register than the German. A Kerze is a simple household object; a candelabra is a furnishing, and an old-fashioned one at that.
"Und wir sahen die Adern darin, und das schwere/ Blut vor der Sonne, das dumpft in den Fingern zerrann." A very literal translation "And we saw the veins in them [our hands], and the thick/blood, in front of the sun, melt away dully in our fingers." The image is a clear one: the men on the ship hold their hands up to the sunlight, seeing the sun shine though the flesh. And Benfey: "...Each vein clear cut, the thick blood eddying/ from our fingers, the sun eluding our grasp." The lines are, perhaps, more overtly "poetic;" but the everyday beauty of Heym's conceit is gone. The sun in the original is a glorified lamp, an agent rather than the object of the men's grasp.
"Hope gone out of our sails and out of our souls" is particularly unjustifiable because it doesn't translate anything. The line is "Wir schwammen/ Trostlos mit schrägem Segel ins Weite hinaus," "we swam/ desolate with oblique sail into the distance," lovely on its own. This entire stanza is particularly lacking: "We kept a silent vigil on the deck/ to unravel the shadows, but our light went dead" barely translates "Aber wir standen am Borde im Schweigen beisammen/ In das Finstre zu starren. Und das Licht ging uns aus." Where Benfey has "unravel" the German reads "stare into." There is no conceivable reason for this change. Further, Benfey makes the last line into a single sentence, losing the fatality of "Und das Licht ging uns aus."
The last stanzas have little to do with each other. They touch at points, but Benfey's translation conveys a feeling very different from that of Heym's original, though I am happy to note that "sounding the depths of the soul" is fairly close to what Heym wrote.
Further, the first three stanzas of the translation rhyme ABAC; the last two do not at all. While I appreciate the difficultly of translating rhyme, I believe that consistency is important; if the rhyme cannot be maintained, it should not be attempted. (Heym rhymes ABAB all the way through.)
Is this a good translation? It depends on what you want from a translation. It is, quibbles aside, a good poem in English, as the original is a good poem in German. And perhaps that's all that's important - that the quality of the poem is preserved, and perhaps some of the ideas, as in the Renaissance English translations of the ancients. However, it seems that Benfey attempted a more literal translation (except in the last stanza, which only touches upon the German). On that account he has failed - he changes images, he alters the feeling of the poem by, for example, using 'crimson' for Heym's 'red.'
Benfey's main failing is a tendency to use the ostentatious (crimson, candelabra), where Heym has the discipline to limit himself to the everyday and to use the abstract where Heym is strongly rooted in the concrete.
*BTW I totally tried to do side-by-side text and it is v. complicated.