The Translation of Poetry
I actually know nothing about translating poetry, but several years ago I was doing a study of Russian poets, and came across this interesting phenomenon. Here I have four different translations of the same poem, The Sail by Mikhail Lermontov. Although they are obviously the same poem, there are striking differences. I have been unable to determine which I enjoy most.
The Sail
A lone white sail for an instant
Appears through haze of bluish foam,
What does it seek in lands so distant?
What did it leave behind at home?
The winds are raging and the mast
Bends, screeching in resentment
It seeks no happiness, -- alas --
Nor is it fleeing from contentment.
An azure stream runs by the sail...
A ray of light shines to appease,
And yet, this rebel seeks the gale --
As if in gales there is peace!
The Sail
The sail is whitening alone
In blue obscurity of sea:
What did it leave in country own?
What does it want so far to see?
The wind is strong, the mast is creaking,
The wave is playing with the wave ...
But not a fortune is it seeking,
Nor from this fortune is its way.
By it a stream is bright as azure,
By beams of sun it's warmed and blessed
But it is seeking gales as treasure,
As if the tempests give a rest.
The Sail
A lone white sail shows for an instant
Where gleams the sea, an azure streak.
What left it in its homeland distant?
In alien parts what does it seek?
The billows play, the mast bends, creaking,
The wind, impatient, moans and sighs...
It is not joy that it is seeking,
Nor is't from happiness it flies.
The blue waves dance, they dance and tremble,
The sun's bright rays caress the seas.
And yet for storm it begs, the rebel,
As if in storm lurked calm and peace!
A Sail
A sail glooms, a pallid shroud,
A loner in the blue of seas.
What is he wondering about?
Is nothing left at home to miss?
And waves are playing, wind is shrilling,
The mast is bending with a creak.
He doesn't run from joyous feelings
And those feelings doesn't seek.
The bluest stream is down under,
The sun is raying golden glees.
And he, o rebel, begs for thunder,
As if in thunder there is peace!
