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Lost in Translation

Paige Reinsel
Written by Paige Reinsel
May 5th, 2008

Though we many not often stop to consider it, the notion and practice of translating literature is not foreign to us. Some of the most famous literary and historical works, such as the Bible, The Communist Manifesto, and The Odyssey have all been translated from their original languages in order to be understood by a larger audience. The benefit of translating literature is clear: a writer can get their message across to all parts of the world. But are there any disadvantages? Is there something to be said for the cliché “lost in translation?”

It’s easy to argue that some works, like the ones above, should be translated from their original language. But that could be partly because certain genres of literature are more affected by translation than others, poetry being a key example. When studying, analyzing, or even just enjoying poetry, so much of its value comes from elements such as rhyme, imagery, alliteration, and meter. But those aspects just can’t be translated—and that’s where the problem lies. Even if a translator were to work extremely hard to perfect a meter or rhyme scheme, there’s no way that the poetic effect can truly be duplicated.

Let’s say for example that there is a poem written in French that features a beautiful line that mimics the sound of the wind blowing by using alliteration. (For those who don’t know, alliteration is the repetition of a consonant sound such as ‘s’ or ‘m’). A translator has a duty to convey the literal meaning of the line, so they’ll choose words in their language that best match the French vocabulary. But what about the alliteration? It is highly doubtful that the translator will be able to find words that both express the idea of the line AND are able to maintain the stylistic effect that the alliteration offers. The great thing about the line in the French poem is that not only is it describing the wind using words, but the repetitious sounds are able to give the effect of blowing and whistling as well. Therefore in translating the poem there’ll undoubtedly be aspects that’ll be lost and that won’t be conveyed to the new audience. A large part of what makes the poem, in a sense, “poetic” is gone!

On a more basic level, even word choice can be problematic in the translation of literature, and once again we see poetry as being most affected. Translating vocabulary in more objective works like journals or novels is more straightforward than in poetry, because the effectiveness of poetry often relies on the diction and its subtleties and nuances. In other words, several adjectives may have the same definition more or less, but there undoubtedly exist slight variations and specializations in their meaning. For example, if you are trying to express that someone is frustrated, adjectives such as agitated, irritated, and aggravated could all be acceptable, yet there are definite distinctions between them. These distinctions, however small they may be, are taken into account when writing poetry because poetry is so immensely calculated. But when translating a poem, sometimes an equivalent word may not exist in another language or the translation will simply fail to capture the power of the original choice of diction. The full effect of the poem is lost as a result.

It’s not to say that novels and other forms of literature don’t purposefully employ diction, imagery, and other devices in terms of stylistic effect and message. They obviously do, so therefore it could be reasonable to say that the translation of any literature is problematic. But in terms of a poor translation, there is something about poetry that makes the offense seem so much greater. Perhaps it’s because poetry often relies so heavily on literary devices like the ones described above. For while in a novel the most important aspect is the ultimate message, with poetry the most important aspect may very well be the way in which it expresses or arrives at that message.

Sadly there is no perfect solution to this problem. It would be unfortunate if people could only read literature written in their native language, but at the same time translated literature does not always live up to the original work. Translation must therefore be accepted as somewhat of a necessary evil, and when reading translated work we should try to keep in mind that the translator’s own interpretation may not perfectly convey the sentiments of the true author. A partial remedy to this problem could be to read several different translations of a work (if they exist) in order to gain a fuller understanding—but clearly you’d have to really like the book to do that. Otherwise, I’d recommend hitting the books and learning a few more languages yourself!

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Comments & Discussion

As a person who knows French and English and has attempted to translate bits of interesting literature for friends (I was reading Le Petit Prince, in French, and had no English copy, but I wanted to share some of the clever passages) I must say that the act of translating is a painful one. You know how good it sounds, how good it's SUPPOSED to sound, and you want so badly to convey that to others that don't speak the language but you never truly can. I've also tried writing poetry in French before, and when reading it aloud in English... yeah, it sounded kind of silly. Anyway, I guess my point is that you're completely right about a loss of meaning in translation. I bet a lot of people don't really think about it when they read translated work, and I suppose you can't blame them since there's nothing that can be done about it if you don't speak the language. Personally I respect translators who at least get close to the original text - it's not easy.
The Little Prince is a great example! I haven't ever read the English version of the book, but I have read it in German. It is one of my favorite books, and is one of those stories that is translated into every possible language. I think it makes a good point- somehow good literature, despite translations, stiil manage to hold on to their original spirit when translated-in the hands of good translators., that is.
I believe that when reading a book, in particular, a "masterpiece" in a language other than the original, you do lose the beauty of how the words are written.  No matter how good the translation it still is a translation based on how the translator chooses to  interpret the words to a certain extent.  As an example, I recently read "Anna Karenina" and when choosing which translation to read, I chose the one where the translation was more narrative than literal.  Books by Tolstoy or Proust or Solzhenytsin would be so wonderful to read in their native tongue if only to appreciate the beauty in the combination of words that form the novel. 
I'm not proficent in language other than English, although I must admit I am still a student of it. The English language is so rich and diverse, that mastering another language to the point that I can pick up about any novel in that language and be able to read it and comprehend what is being said sounds extremely difficult. In this sense, though, making a living out of translating literature does not sound the least interesting. In addition, one does not have to go to a separate language to translate. Literature in English provides a whole other experience. For example, take Jonathan Swift's essay A Modest Proposal. The structure of this is somewhat different than what is taught in modern day essay writing courses. Modern English reflects modern society in it preferably is quick, punctual, and to the point.  At least this is how it has been described to me. I suppose if it would be done any other way, it could be described as either preliminary  work, contemptuously awkward poetry, or something brilliant because it is brand new.
This is one subject that my French teacher would avidly praise you on, as well as one of my History teachers. One of the things that kept popping up in my mind while I read this was the word , "universalism".  When applied to literature, universalism is the concept that one should be able to write something and anyone from around the world should be able to relate to what one writes.  This, I think, relates to what you wrote. When something is lost in translation, people from a country other than the country in which the book was published might not fully understand the wonder of the book or poem or whatever was published, just as universalism is not possible because no one can ever fully grasp the other's writing.
"...there’s no way that the poetic effect can truly be duplicated, you say? And why would you? Try, I mean, to 'duplicate' the experience? Every time I have been moved by words, it is because of the uniqueness of the moment, and of my relationship to it. There is no need for it to be the same for you as for me. The joy and the journey of our lives in literature is to find joy and purpose, and try to live with it, either by sharing it with others, or by holding it in our deepest treasure chest of secrets. I have a book of Persian poems that I love, and I can't decipher one letter of Farsi. The book was translated over a hundred years ago by an English author who looks -- according to the frontispiece -- that he would no more fit in my world than a hooped skirt. But what he put down on the pages is beautiful and moving by itself. I am absolutely certain that my enjoyment would be greatly reduced if I had the background of language to read the tome in it's mother tongue. The richness of words with it's infinite variety of nuance and subtlety makes for a lifetime experience of enrichment, even if you are reading the same authors over and over. I have read Out of the Silent Planet since I was teenager and though it always hits me in different ways, the moment when our protagonist is first confronted with humans and has his step-by-step epiphany: going from no recognition and then seeing "his own people" in front of him, always gets me. There is no need for this moment to make you feel the same things that I feel when I read it, clearly. The joy and the journey is of checking with each other what it was like for you and whether that fits with my experience, and WHY. So, not to be too argumentative, but I must insist that your assumption that translated words can not duplicate the experience of the original tongue is irrelevant to all but the student wishing to mimic what the professor wants to hear. Good Work and Good Words Sammy
 To address the above comment, my argument that the translation of literature may be problematic is something I have never heard from any professor.  In fact, we read many translated works of literature in my college English courses, so to say that I am merely trying to "mimic what the professor wants to hear" is simply untrue.  Furthermore, though I do agree with your argument that each person has a unique experience with a particular work of literature, I do not think it is right to completely disregard the author's intent concerning diction and other aspects that may be affected by translation.  I appreciate your input, however, as this topic is rather controversial and undoubtedly debatable.

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