INTRODUCTION
The
site contains four major sections: translations from German prose; language
resources, in particular English and Japanese vocabulary; academic essays; and
general essays. All essays are
concerned with aspects of translation or with specific literary texts, but the
academic ones are more recent and thorough. They are intended for academics and
postgraduates; the general essays are for undergraduates; and the brief
introduction that acts as a link to the translations is for the general reader.
This
site is concerned with foreign languages and the translation of foreign
literature into English. Most of
the translations you will find are from German, for it is my second language
and the one I like translating most.
They are also all prose: my poetic translations may be found at www.brindin.com.
It
could be said that there is too much English – or rather, Anglo-American – in
the world today. Its dominance is
not good for the world, nor is it of benefit to the English language. However, such is the present reality;
the only language with a realistic chance of replacing English as the
international tongue, and suffering a similar tragic decline in the process, is
Spanish. Given this excess, do we
need translations into English?
We
certainly do, for we do not have anywhere near enough. Although there is no shortage of
shadowless men, good-for-nothings or apple-on-son’s-head-cleaving crossbowmen in English,
translations of several of the texts represented on this site are few and
far between. The English are
appallingly lax where foreign languages are concerned, and they have been since
time immemorial. We cannot simply
point to our being an island people, for so are the Icelanders, who are
exceptionally gifted linguists.
When we do learn a language, our efforts are often motivated by cultural
snobbery rather than curiosity as to the ways of other lands. This misguided attitude places the
Romance languages above the Germanic languages, for
Schlaf in himmlische
Ruhe… (sleep in heavenly peace…),
or in the poetry of
Eichendorff?
Dutch
has been scandalously neglected. Of
all major European languages, it is the closest to English; the
My
concern is with language, not with fashion. I learn a language because I love
language, and because I wish to arrive at a greater knowledge of a foreign
culture and a deeper understanding of a foreign race. Furthermore, the historian in me wishes
to keep old texts alive. The modern
German considers Fortunatus to be
heavy reading, for the language and style are dated: translation restores a text to life.
The
most important motivation behind my translations, however, is my concern for my
mother tongue: the first rule of translation is ‘Translate into your own
language’, and I always translate into English, the King inside my head. Like many other languages in the present
age, it is becoming simplified, and there is no surer means to the dehumanisation
of mankind, the mechanisation and standardisation of thought, and the
replacement of man with robot, than the reduction of language. Not all linguistic growth is to be
celebrated, and the trimming of a vocabulary by time maintains fertility and
obviates rank profusion; however, one feels that too many words, too many
structures, are being pared away, and the facial features of each language are
becoming more difficult to distinguish.
As George Steiner argued in his After
Babel, the Bible for students of translation, proliferation of languages is
a biological necessity. Every
language that dies sounds a knell which diminishes mankind. Not only is the number of tongues
decreasing, but the quality of each language is being vitiated. The Second World War may have maintained
our freedom (apart, of course, from CCTV, speed cameras, and email/telephone
monitoring), but one of its unfortunate legacies is the flux of English words
that has infested German and Japanese.
In German, English words and constructions are very, very ugly; in
Japanese, foreign words are written in katakana,
a phonetic system that tortures by syllable, racking English words and
positively excruciating French vocables (as opposed to the beautiful, graceful hiragana). The art of translation celebrates the
difference between languages and the range of human expression.
I mentioned above the present hegemony of
Anglo-American. My dislike of this
language does not stem from any anti-American prejudice or the belief in a ‘pure’ English.
Purity of language is as sickening a concept as purity of blood. My favourite manifestation of English is
actually Irish-English: it is the most beautiful, lyrical, imaginative, poetic
form of English that I know, and these are the qualities that I most prize in a
language. The problem lies in Anglo-American
being too close, at a basic level, to Elizabethan English, which I have studied
at length, and which is extremely limited.
There is too much emphasis on vigour, on force of expression; the active
voice is used to excess; one looks in vain for that balance of elegance and
strength, that variety of register, which characterises the English tongue.
Of course, that language is the language of
Shakespeare. Now, there was nothing
remarkable about Shakespeare’s education: his learning is impressive, but by no
means astounding, and any claim that he was some kind of universal genius is
made when one’s judgement is sitting under a cloudy sky. What is remarkable about him is his gift
for language; he is, in a way, one of the greatest translators into English
ever to have lived. He sees
possibilities in the writings of his contemporaries that they themselves did
not have the perception to notice; and he takes a word, a sentence, or a
passage, and infuses it with a greater depth and reach. We find far more figurative language in
the writings of the Elizabethans than we do in our current language;
translation discourse, for example, was marked at that time by a figurative
vitality that is now woefully absent.
Hamstrung by a fear of cliché, we limp through language, taking the
factory road and avoiding the paths that seemed so inviting when we were
children. For metaphors
are all – and everything – we have: incomplete, suggestive, tantalising, an introduction to profound reflection. A language cannot be judged by its
greatest writer or poet: Virgil was atypical, for he displayed an awareness of
the potentialities of Latin that no other Roman poet was able to follow, and
consequently the Latin language remains as straight and direct as a Roman road,
a language with a flat forward impetus, ideally shaped for law.
That language is also the language of the AV Bible (I
cannot bring myself to name it after so pathetic a King as sat on the throne at
that time). Modern Bible
translations may be more accurate, but their prose is far inferior and lacks
the lilting rhythm of the Authorised Version, which is made to be spoken and
memorised. However, many modern
translations, and many modern ‘original’ literary texts, also pale in
comparison when placed beside 19th-, 18th-, or 17th-century
works. There is a tendency to
spoon-feed the youth of today rather than to challenge them, and this is
reflected in the field of translation by the dominant presence of ‘accessibility’,
which makes translations simpler, sparer, and less literary. Driving on the motorway will help you to
reach your destination sooner, but how boring is the journey? Modern English, like modern
Anglo-American, is often a neutralised, neutered language, and this must be
borne in mind when comparisons with Elizabethan English are made.
The English language is one of the few jewels that our
nation possesses, although most English people do not realise this. German is a rich and beautiful language,
although most English people do not realise this; and there is far more to
German literature than Goethe, Nietzsche, Kafka, Mann, Brecht, Rilke, Grass and
Hesse. This site represents my
small contribution to raising awareness of these facts. All translations may be freely
downloaded and reproduced, providing that reference is made to my name. History has seen too many invisible
translators.