Transference Vol. 3, Fall 2015

Transference, Mar 2016

Published on 03/04/16

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Transference Vol. 3, Fall 2015

Transference Vol. 3, Fall 2015 Part of the Classical Literature Philology Commons Comparative Literature Commons East Asian Languages Societies Commons European Languages Societies Commons French Francophone Language Literature Commons German Language Literature Commons International Area Studies Commons Linguistics Commons Modern Languages Commons Modern Literature Commons Near Eastern Languages Societies Commons Poetry Commons the Reading Language Commons Follow this and additional works at: An Annual Publication of the Department of World Languages and Literatures at Western Michigan University Volume III 2015 David Kutzko Rainy Night in Linqing by y ao Spring Rain by y ao Nai Evening Meditations by y ao Martial IX.10, VIII.19, VII.93 An Ocean of Tears by The Chest by m arim m arim m iChTiaw rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The a Ndrew a Ndrew a Ndrew GordN GordN GordN GordN m iChTiaw m iChTiaw d eaN k eNdra a shikaGa yb yb yb Jake Jake Jake Jake Nai o n te n ts Foreword????..???????????????????????..................vii Between the Loss & the Delay by How Do I Tell You I Love You? by Twelve Tanka on Scooters by GudGel GudGel GudGel Guay ?????.......9 ..........??......9 ........?.??..10 ...........................18 ...........................18 ..........................20 ...........................21 a Na m ari ?...........?.?.12 GeorGe h del ............................15 b riNk .....................24 y oshiakr s TraNd ....................27 u ri h oresh .............................31 d arCy l. G uaThier ..............33 a GNaNT CoriNe CoriNe TaChTirs TaChTirs ...................36 ...................39 Excerpt from A Pilgrimage to Sumiyoshi by In Jerusalem by m ahmoud Ennui by Abe K?b? First Poem for Her by m arie -Cie?l a GNaNT Poem for My Shadow by m arie I Am a Child of the Sun by FuKushi K?jir? Something Fills the Soul by y ousef ...................................................................44 ...................................................................46 ...................................................................48 ...................................................................49 N, y asmi N, y asmi N s NouNu N s NouNu On the Threshold of Wishing by y ousef The Dream Vision from the Song of Songs by Catullus 101, 48, 81 A Poet?s Eye: Poems of Princess Shikishi by Ted Ted Ted Ted ) Tab Tab Tab Tab JaNe ................................62 yb k eNT d iXoN ...........................65 Time Utters It by y ousef I Color My Name by y ousef Whether You See Me or Not by Life?s Fount by h uGo ovN h ofmaNNsThal Cih Cih h isham The Stranger by Flared Skirt by Cesharl a rai The Healds by a rai The Visa by Qedra le Joshua Qedra rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom Tako Tako a l Gakh ....................................................................................68 .....................................................................................71 & r iNa & r iNa yb ..............77 .................42 , , , , TaNG ..............................51 r emaNul .................53 N. r oseNberG p riNCes s hiks ...............55 (s hiks r ose b uNdy .........................57 An Autumnal Fossil by On Skeletons by s hiro s hiro m uraNo Orpheus at the Butcher Shop by Enduring Scars by a hmad rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom rfom Winds of Betrayal: On Artaud?s Van Gogh by y ok m ihas A Community in the Open by m uraNo A Man Out of Time: Aias 646?692 by The Universe in Perspective by y u k waNG Commentator by y u k waNG The Birth of a Masterpiece by y u k waNG Orchards 52 by Orchards 54 by r aiNer r aiNer Orchards 57: The Doe by r aiNer m ari Orchards 59 by r aiNer l iGhT .........................82 l iGhT .........................83 l iGhT .........................84 TakNo TakNo TakNo TakNo ......................88 ......................88 ......................89 ......................90 .............................92 a Nhal T..........................94 l iN ..........................98 l iN ..........................99 l iN ..........................99 p eTermaNN p eTermaNN p eTermaNN p eTermaNN .............101 .............101 .............102 .............102 The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Grey Truth is now her painted toy; Yet still she turns her restless head: But O, sick children of the world, Of all the many changing things In dreary dancing past us whirled, To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, Words alone are certain good. (W.B. Yeats, from ?The Song of the Happy Shepherd?) Words? Foolishness, I know, against the darkness coming on, but then, what really works? So talk, if only some private thought of elves or if you think that way, talk facts. Speak of amperes or chromosomes or the molecules of hydrogen. Soon, if your talk is right, it turns into a kind of charm. Therefores changing into abracadabra against the brute descent of the sun. Maybe this time the dark will brighten almost as if it noticed us. (R.M. Ryan, ?What to Say?) Communication is everything. It is the bridge between individuals, comprised of words. Words, of course, are not purely ?good,? as the happy shepherd of Yeat?s poem sings. In the very next poem of Crossways, words are changed to an ?inarticulate moan? as a man tries in vain to convey his isolation and sorrow (?The Sad Shepherd?). But words can create magic, ?a kind of charm,? where optimism keeps despair at bay. This is the world of poetry. Even poems that are pessimistic in tone are in fact an ?abracadabra / against the brute descent of the sun? because in the act of using words, we attempt to make the world better. Communication, ?if your talk is right,? leads to empathy. Translating poetry?transferring words and ideas from one culture to another?creates, we continue to hope, a bridge around the world. On our website (, ScholarWorks provides a map tracking in live time the downloads for our journal. We often sit entranced, watching the map light up all over the world, documenting the potential of global communication and empathy. We are grateful for the referees, translators, and general readers who make Transference a reality. We are also excited to present our largest and most diverse collection yet. This year?s issue of Transference opens with images of rain and a flooding river, tied to the gathering of friends who ?will recall tonight, when scattered across the land? (Gudgel, 9). Although it is a risky venture to read the translations published here as a single, long poem with many disparate parts and voices, their assemblage does invite a kind of impressionistic reading in which the reader sees unifying elements amidst the wide-ranging diversity. In our personal reading of this collection, we became keenly aware of the sometimes intertwined motifs of water, separation, and memory that recur in a number of poems. The image of water appears as a separating force in Narni?s ?white sulfurous river? (Held, 15) and is evoked as ?the language of the sea? (Gordon, 20). It appears again with the figure who ?drank from a water deprived of light? and ?dreamed of the open sea? (Tachtiris, 38). Some of these instances represent suffering, but not all. We see ?dew?s gleam? and a spirit ?surging with the floods of spring? (Ruleman, 53). The spring snow in Bundy?s translation of Princess Shikishi is joyful (57). The thirstless skeletons in Takano?s translation of Murano have found a measure of ?nostalgia-provoking? peace (89). Separation occurs between lovers, between the living and the dead (Rosenberg, 55), in communities (Ben Lazreg, 77?80), and in the fragmented self. The power of memory to sustain and move us is portrayed in a multitude of tonalities. We read of ?A lonely park full of children ... [that] rubs the rust of ... memory with something similar to flight? and a figure ?shredding her grief into tiny pieces at the threshold of wishing? (Morin, Snounu, and Tabbaa, 45; 46). In ?Excerpt from A Pilgrimage to Sumiyoshi,? the poem?s narrator philosophically states: ?I yielded to my brush and recorded my impressions of these various places, thinking that perhaps it will be of interest to people of another time,? with a calm recognition of personal mortality. Horesh opens with a reference to Jerusalem?s ?old wall? which is emblematic of wholeness, separation, and memory in complex ways (31). The recurrence of these elements invites a meditation on the eternal present?here perceived as an instant of stillness in the ever-flowing waters of life and time?and our constant need to look back in an attempt to find wholeness. David Kutzko and Molly Lynde-Recchia, editors-in-chief Andrew Gudgel Rainy Night in Linqing Yesterday our little boat set out on the river?s flood. On the same boat were wine we brought and all the very best guests. Autumn sounds on both banks, though the maples were still green. At midnight, the bright moon made the river?s water white. Wandering friends?close their whole lives? Will recall tonight, when scattered across the land. The Zhang River flows east while the Wen River runs clear; In the cold rain a lonely sail gathers many sorrows. Andrew Gudgel Spring Rain Evening comes and the east wind ceases; I close my book when the window goes dark. A spring rain comes, rustling, and the room gets a little cold. Just then, a bird perches and the fluttering sound admonishes me to be humble. Yao Nai ???? Yao Nai ?? Andrew Gudgel Evening Meditations The ridges to the west draw down the slanting sun, The last rays of evening are just like the dawn?s earliest light. The window darkens in the winter sun, And with difficulty I put down my book. The wind along the eaves sighs; The fallen leaves flutter on the stone steps. A murder of crows comes and perches on the branches, And caws repeatedly from the forest?s edge. All things are interdependent; Who is the host? Who is the guest? It?s certainly foolish to chase what?s before us; How can it be right to explore what is past? In the darkness I raise my head and say nothing; The cold moon is suited to the still night sky. Yao Nai (1731?1815) was born in Tongcheng in the modern-day Anhui Province of China. In 1763, he passed the Qing Dynasty?s highest imperial examination and achieved the rank of Jinshi. He served in several high-level administrative positions and was compiler of the Siku Quanshu, an encyclopedic collection of all books in China at the time. He is considered one of the early voices in the establishment of the Tongcheng School of Writing, which he helped spread by teaching at various academies during the second half of his life. The Tongcheng School stressed natural, straightforward prose and harmony between a written work?s theme and form. Yao Nai was an expert on ancient and classical texts and his poems abound in allusions to earlier poems and poets; sometimes he also plays with their themes. For example, the line ?Autumn sounds on both banks, though the maples were still green? in the poem ?Rainy Night in Linqing? is modeled after a similar line in the Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai?s ?Setting Off Early for Baidi City.? Yet the two poems are mirror images. Both describe journeys by boat, but Yao sets his at night and there is rain; Li Bai sets his at dawn with brilliant morning clouds. Though Yao?s poems are enjoyable in and of themselves, for an audience that was familiar with these earlier poets, the scattered literary allusions and modification of themes would have added additional layers of meaning and emotional resonance. In translating the poems, I tried to keep the English straightforward and let the images speak for themselves, reflecting Yao?s simple?and sometimes spare?style. In spring, Cydonian apple trees hand-fed by river streams in the unspoiled orchard of the Maidens, and vine-blossoms too, grown fat beneath vine-shade But for me Love scorns rest in every season? roiling out of its skin all over with lightning fire like a Thracian stormburst, darting forth from Aphrodite with manias to parch the tongue, night-dark, shameless violently tearing up my wits feetfirst Cicero called Ibycus of Rhegium the most ?aflame with love? of the archaic Greek lyric poets. Indeed, little is known about Ibycus other than the fact that he wrote poetry about love. At some point he left Rhegium for Samos, where he likely composed poetry for wealthy patrons under the tyranny of Polycrates; extant sources locate his floruit in the second half of the 6th century B.C. He writes not in ?standard? Attic Greek but in the Doric dialect, stippled with Homeric language; in the few poems we have, his subjects are myth, beauty, and love. Otherwise our information about Ibycus? biography is as tattered as his body of work, which survives only in quotations and fragments of papyrus. ?Fragment 286? (probably a complete poem) is stunning proof of Cicero?s assessment. In a handful of lines Ibycus skillfully shifts his audience from the pastoral lull of a vine-shaded orchard to the twisting, relentless grip of desire. Capturing the rapid shift between the two is the most crucial part of my translation. Structure-wise, Ibycus does the work for me. Halfway through the poem? ?But for me? marks the switch?the relative structure of the first stanza breaks down; words begin to run over their line-end, and the meter of the second half does not correspond to the first. While I have dispensed with the notoriously complex meters of Greek lyric poetry and translated into free verse, I have sought to achieve the same sense of restless urgency with language and line breaks. Translating Ibycus? contrasting images is as much a challenge as a delight. The poet packs his lines full of antithesis: the orchard is nourished by a river while the madnesses of love are ?parching,? and the youthful idyll suggested by the first half contrasts sharply with the adult reality of love portrayed in the second. My efforts to translate the nuances of the Greek language attempt to convey these contrasts. For example, the vines that are ?increased? (auxomenai) in Greek are here ?grown fat? for a stronger sense of the contentment that the next lines are about to disrupt; ?stormburst? preserves the sound of the Greek Boreas but removes the problem of explaining that the mythological name represents the traditionally fierce north wind. Indeed, mythological names often pose a problem for the modern translator. For example, some commentators (e.g. Campbell, 1982) propose that the mysterious ?Maidens? of the first stanza are nymphs, but admit there is no definite parallel for the Greek parthenoi used by itself as a title. One recent commentary (Wilkinson, 2012) suggests the word refers simply to young women. Another (Tortorelli, 2004) makes the argument that the maidens are, perhaps, not nymphs but Muses, which invites tempting parallels between love and poetic inspiration. In light of this latter argument, I have chosen to capitalize ?Maidens? to suggest that the word is a title; whatever their specific identity, the reference to maiden divinities (in their ?unspoiled? orchard) in the poem?s first half and then to Aphrodite, the goddess of desire, in its second makes for another elegant contrast. The fragmented state of the poem only compounds its difficulty. Our readings of this papyrus are not stable; in particular, scholars have suggested many substitutions for the verb in the last line of the poem, from ?guards? (phulassei) to ?shakes? (tinassei). A translator must choose from the variety. In this case, not only is there a comparandum for the latter in the erotic poetry of Sappho, who likewise compares love to a wind that shakes the heart like a gale on mountain trees, but it is also a far superior fit for the poem. After all, Ibycus? view of love, at least in the fragments we have, is a fervent and chaotic one. In the next of Ibycus? fragments (287), Eros looks up at our poet from beneath dark eyelids; his gaze, the poet tells us, is melting. I have tried, in my translation, to reflect the portrayal of love that Ibycus crafts so masterfully: personified, restless, and physical (?roiling out of its skin?), love darts and parches, is violent, consumes like fire. George Held IX.10 You want to wed Priscus. No wonder, Paula. And wise. Priscus doesn?t want to wed You. Also wise. VIII.19 VII.93 Cinna wants to look like a pauper. And he is a pauper. Narni, encircled by the flood of your white sulfurous river, Hard to reach on your twin peaks, Why do you so often seduce my noble Quintus And detain him so long? Why ruin the purpose of my little place at Nomentum, On which I splurged only because of my neighbor? So be frugal, Narni, and don?t devalue Quintus? worth: Thus may you freely delight in your bridge forever. Marcus Valerius Martialis (40?104), or Martial, was born in Spain and flourished in Rome. His greatest achievement remains his 1500 epigrams in which he depicts, often satirically, the behavior of his fellow Romans and perfects the form in Latin. His influence appears in the work of virtually every epigrammatist since. A helpful element in translating Martial is that his epigrams contain many formal cues that can, and should, be carried over into English versions of them. Foremost, perhaps, is the poet?s intention to provide what he called a ?sting? at the end of every poem. Readers, including translators, usually enjoy a pithy, cutting end-line, especially in satire such as Martial?s. This can be seen even in a two-line poem like VIII.19. The first line makes an observation, ?Cinna wants to look like a pauper,? and the second line offers another take on that observation, ?And he is a pauper,? but shifts the tone from neutral to sardonic. While the first line sounds slightly sympathetic to Cinna?s desire to appear poor and seems to imply that he is wealthy, the second line undercuts his desire as fatuous because of his actual poverty. In the Latin, Martial uses ?pauper? as the first and last word of his epigram, creating a remarkable balance, but English syntax is better served with ?pauper? at the end of each clause and line. My translation amounts to a rhymed couplet, and though Martial did not use end-rhyme, he was alert to repeating internal sounds in his lines. Moreover, many centuries of translators have made rhyme and meter traditional for Martial. IX.10 exemplifies Martial?s formal skills as comparable to a watchmaker?s. His two lines are balanced with infinitives at the head of each and forms of the verb sapio (?to be wise?) at the end. Nubere and ducere, the infinitives, create initial rhyme, and in the first line the sound is?vis, Priscus, sapisti?occurs three times as internal rhyme. In the second line, non, Prisco, and sapit repeat or partially repeat words from line 1, and the e sound?in ducere, te, et, ille?repeats as internal rhyme, for the sake of aural coherence. This marvel of compression well illustrates its maker?s attention to poetic form, not to mention his wit, which here is both formal and linguistic. In my translation I have tried to follow suit. In longer poems, like VII.93, I sometimes break Martial?s traditional block form into stanzas; in this case, two quatrains. The translator must also find a way to transfer Martial?s themes, as carried in his language, into the English version. In VII.93, for example, the second stanza suggests an underlying economic theme. An important part of the speaker?s reason for seeking to protect the value of his property at Narni, a town in Umbria, besides gaining access to his attractive neighbor, is the sum he spent on it: divert Quintus too often and you wear him out for me, thus reducing the value of my ?little place.? By addressing Narni as though it were a rival ?seducing? Quintus, Martial amusingly implies a sexual struggle between speaker and town. The final line delivers Martial?s subversive point. Instead of expressing conventional resentment over Narni?s distracting the object of desire, he instead shows the speaker satisfied to compromise over the matter by sharing the charming Quintus with the charms of the town, such as its twin peaks and bridge. Does Quintus then end up a metaphorical bridge between speaker and Narni? Jake Gordon An Ocean of Tears Between my blame for you And my desire to see your eyes Lies an ocean of tears In vain, I try to forge a way But can only live, drowning every day Jake Gordon The Chest I kept the treasure of the past Inside a purple chest The days and years whiled I overcame every trial And I am convinced that my chest was the champion of my victories Then one stubborn, harsh, rebellious year A tsunami swept away all that was mine Everything But the chest was left behind The legacy of my love I hastened to it I began to contemplate it With the love I held for my homeland I wiped the dust from it Showered it with kisses Held it close Mariam Michtawi Mariam Michtawi This chest of joy Treasure of life Love of the years Friendship of childhood Sweetness and perfume of days? Gleefully, I danced upon it Barefoot for hours One of my daily rituals And for the first time I resolved to open it It was my one chance to live again I opened it carefully, with great longing As a lover longs for life But the chest resisted me a little, Concerned for my bliss upon feeling the shock Its screeching shook me to my core As though it wept for my inevitable misfortune I did not yield to it For my dreams slumbered inside I fought back, opened it, and with it a great grave My chest was empty... Empty... Empty... I regarded it a while A long while I left it open For the bats of time Then softly, I turned my back and departed, Stripped of everything, even my soul Whenever I pass by the veil-like rank Of fat masses of meat facing this street My soul thaws, oddly Each of these faceless torsos Lines up with uncanny politeness While showing one another intimately Their own selves injured all over, as if They are the very worst wounds imaginable They are interwoven like a parallel-striped pattern And seen now like the vast expanse of numbness Call this neither the illusion of death Nor the dizziness lasting forever Rather, this is something more condensed Or something you may call the sunset of existence Looming out of this reddish-brown trail Is a chain of small bloodless hooves Kicking the air obstinately yet, which Now remains weathered on this street With now-or-never wretchedness Shiro Murano ??????? The four poems I chose for my translation are originally included in On Lost Sheep (Boyo-ki or ???) by Shiro Murano (????, 1901?1975). Murano is one of the influential poets you can never disregard in surveying the history of the modern poetry in Showa-era Japan (1926?1989). On Lost Sheep was Murano?s ninth poetry collection in his roughly fifty-year poetrywriting career and was awarded the prestigious Yomiuri Prize for Literature in 1960. While his early poetics were deeply affected by surrealism, imagism, and German objectivism, Murano?s later years were strongly influenced by existentialism. One of the difficulties I had to face in translating the first poem ?A Community in the Open,? was which English word to choose for the word ?? (?community?) in the original title. There were several other options for this Japanese word such as ?colony? or ?stock,? but I ended up picking the word ?community? because the chrysanthemums in the original poem seemed almost like an independent, self-governing ?community? of people. The eighth line of the second stanza in the original of the second poem, ?An Autumnal Fossil,? was a difficult puzzle for me to solve. ??????? was the original sentence, and, although Japanese is my native language, it was difficult for me to grasp its nuance accurately. This line could even be translated as, say, ?It is alright even if that?s the case? or ?Let it be so then,? but, eventually, I chose the expression ?That may be the way it goes.? I?m still wondering, though, whether or not it was the very best choice for the original. Some people may argue that putting the phrase ?Mind you? at the top of the last stanza in the third poem, ?On Skeletons,? might be too audacious an act. There is certainly no precise counterpart in the original?s same stanza, but I felt the entire stanza in the Japanese was somehow warning the reader implicitly of the skeleton?s vagrancy. I still believe that the use of the phrase ?mind you? for this translation is a nice idea. The most difficult part in the whole translation process of the fourth poem, ?Orpheus at the Butcher Shop,? was how to treat its second stanza. Its syntactic structure in the original seems peculiarly complex, and I had to paraphrase the whole stanza in my translation to better its readability. I hope here that my own interpretation of this stanza, which soaked inevitably into this act of paraphrasing, suits Murano?s original intention. In jail I feared if freed I?d never be at peace And madness would precede The day of my release So on the day I left My faithful cell to gain My freedom, it just felt Like being jailed again Ahmad al-Safi al-Najafi Ahmad al-Safi al-Najafi (1897?1977) was an Iraqi poet who travelled throughout the Middle East. I met him when I was a child in Lebanon during some of his visits to my maternal grandfather. I was too young to appreciate the specifics of poetry, but old enough to be awed by it and wise enough to recognize that poets are a cut above all others. In the case of al-Najafi, the cut was literal. He slit his dishdasha from ankle to knee to gain more freedom of movement. Freedom to him, in every respect, was more than a state of mind; it was life itself. So the image of that slit in his dishdasha stayed with me all this time as a simple, Diogenesque manifestation of how a person can choose to exercise his personal freedom in defiance of all societal norms. In other words, he lived his life in poetry and, as I was to discover later, in poverty. As I got older (that is, by the 5th grade), I became enamoured with poetry and poetics. So it was only natural that I allayed my early poetic affliction with a good dose of al-Najafi?s poetry. Its ease of flow was remarkable, as was its conciseness. And the wit it delivered in an unrelenting tempo was enough to ensure its mnemonic quality. He was jailed a number of times for doing what a conscientious poet does?agitating against an oppressive occupier. The chosen poem was written in 1941 when he was imprisoned in Lebanon by the French at the behest of the British for participating in a demonstration against the British. It appears in his diwan, Hassad al-Sijin (The Prison Harvest)?the fortunate, unintended outcome of his imprisonment?the undeniable failure of the oppressor?s attempt to silence him. This short poem is reminiscent of Byron?s closing lines in ?Prisoner of Chillon,? where the prisoner confesses that ?My very chains and I grew friends,? and shocks us with ?even I / Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.? The poem is written in al-bahr al-khafif (light meter), which has no exact equivalent in English. The translation is presented in two iambic trimeter quatrains. It is felt that the trimeter captures, to the extent possible, the rhythm of the original poem. Long and uncountable Time makes manifest The hidden and obscure and hides the rest. No thing is unexpected. All?s ensnared, The rigid mind and each dread oath declared. Thus I who once endured like tempered steel Am softened by the force of her appeal. With pity for this woman and my child, I dread to leave her widowed, him reviled. In going to the shore at meadow?s end To cleanse these stains, I know I will defend Myself against the dread Athena?s wrath. I?ll go where human foot has made no path, That I may dig a hole and hide this blade, Most hateful and despised of weapons made, Where none will see but Hades down below. This gift received from Hector, my worst foe, Has never won me prizes from the Greeks. And I perceive the truth the adage speaks: Of enemies no gifts are gifts, nor gains. Thus I will learn for all that now remains To mighty gods and fate perforce to yield, Yet worship power mortal monarchs wield. It seems one must obey, and this is why: As winter storms make way for summer sky So all that?s dread and strong must yield to worth, As snow subsides while fruits bedeck the earth. And changing place the circle of drear night Gives white-horsed day the space to shine its light. The blast of dreadful winds has caused to cease The groaning of the sea and brought it peace, While always-present, all-controlling Sleep Despite his power chooses not to keep Us always shackled, fettered, ever-bound. Then how will we not know discretion sound? For I myself have just now come to learn An enemy is one whom we must spurn Insofar as soon he?ll be our friend. And he to whom my love I shall extend I?ll wish to aid and profit and maintain Just as the friend he never will remain. For friendship offers mortals but defeat, And faithless is its harbor and retreat. Still, things are sure to turn out well today. And you, my woman, go inside and pray That all my heart?s desire come to be. And you, companions, with her honor me. When Teucer comes his tasks must be disclosed: To care for me, to you be well-disposed. But I am going there where one must go. And you, do as I say and soon may know, Although by Fate I now have been ill-served, That yet, perhaps, I still have been preserved. Sophocles? Aias (or Ajax, in most modern translations) re-interprets an ancient tale of a mythical injustice. According to tradition, after Achilles died at Troy, his immortal armor was to be the prize of the best Greek warrior still living. That was Ajax. Everyone knew it. But a tribunal awarded the armor to Odysseus instead. No one, not even Odysseus, ever denies that Ajax deserved Achilles? armor. Sophocles anachronistically likens the tribunal to a 5th-century Athenian jury trial, and his portrayal of the mythical injustice reveals a fundamental opposition between archaic values and democratic procedures. Ajax embodies the inflexible and uncompromising archaic value system. He has always pursued traditional goals familiar to Homer?s world and to many places in ours: help friends, harm enemies, earn honor for success in battle. Enraged by the tribunal?s failure to acknowledge his supreme martial skill, Ajax tries to murder all of the Greek leaders. Athena distorts his vision so that he attacks sheep and cattle instead of men. After regaining his senses, Ajax makes this speech, which is sometimes called the ?deception speech? because it has the effect of misleading listeners (Ajax?s spear-won concubine Tecmessa, the Chorus, and perhaps the audience as well) into thinking that Ajax intends to soften and accept the tribunal?s decision. Hearers may misunderstand, but Ajax speaks only the truth. He cannot give up his anger and never states that he will. (For selfpreservation, he should reverence the gods and yield to the Greek leaders, but Ajax emphasizes the impossibility by reversing the verbs: ?To mighty gods and fate perforce to yield, / Yet worship power mortal monarchs wield.?) He will indeed bury his sword in the earth. Only later do we learn why. Unable to change, Ajax cannot adapt to the new realities of his day. This speech expresses his realization that his traditional talents and priorities no longer suit a society that uses group consensus, not fact, to identify and reward the ?best? individual. Ajax defended the Greeks against the Trojans, but the tribunal?s unfair decision has made the Greeks his enemies. Understanding now that human loyalties alternate like the seasons, Ajax can no longer help his friends and harm his enemies. He wants no part of a world that cannot recognize and justly reward talent, merit, loyalty, and integrity. Ajax would rather die. And he does, falling on the sword whose hilt he has buried in the ground. Ajax kills himself not out of frustration or shame (as readers of English translations of the play tend to conclude) but in absolute rejection of life itself and the changes that time causes in nature and in human relationships. For this understanding of the play, see further B. Knox?s interpretation in ?The Ajax of Sophocles? in Word and Action: Essays on the Ancient Theater (Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), pp. 125?160. The tribunal?s ?democratic? decision thus robs the community of its best defender. Ajax?s example suggests, perhaps, that modern efforts to cultivate democratic institutions in traditionally undemocratic societies must somehow recognize and address this incompatibility between an absolute, unchanging conception of loyalties and enmities and the democratic emphasis on flexibility and TraNsferNCe group consensus. Sophocles? Aias warns against over-confidence in the value of the procedures alone. Unjust democratic decisions can violate individuals? rights and fracture communities. They may produce rather than prevent injustice and conflict. In Greek, the meter is (non-rhyming) iambic trimeter. In English, heroic couplets in iambic pentameter seemed appropriately anachronistic for a translation of this powerful monologue uttered by a character defined by the ethos of an age earlier than his own. 1. The Universe from A Fly?s Perspective On a turning spindle a fly sings, ?Look! Look! The whole universe is spinning around me!? In the Roman church, a philosopher instructs a swarm of flies, ?Yes, I concur that the sun outside the window does spin around us in flight!? 2. The Universe from A Mosquito?s Perspective Sir Newton stands on the podium lecturing to his students, ?All the apples on Earth?s surface and everything else succumb to the gravitational pull.? A mosquito listening to the lecture from underneath a desk is not at all persuaded; he flies across Newton?s face, challenging him: ?Where is the pull?? 3. The Universe from A Lover?s Perspective The universe is merely a frame, within it your portrait lies. The rest is but a backdrop despite the stars and sun. When the end of the universe finally arrives, starlight will vanish in the blink of an eye; you and I will cling to each other in the dark, in the long night of God?s power failure. TraNsferNCe They say a commentator is like a barber: He trims the excess, evens out the rest, and applies gloss to it all. This was probably true in the times of St. Augustine and the Tang Dynasty. Yet I sympathize with barbers if their clients are mostly bald. Hsinmei Lin The Birth of a Masterpiece Fate is a dogged blacksmith swinging a giant, tormented hammer and smashing a genius? heart day and night till it?s broken to pieces. Yet a genius? heart is an anvil, made robust by constant blows; in the dark it never darts away in fear but bears the spark of revolts. One after another, hammers are shattered and replaced. When the worn-out blacksmith drops to the ground, A masterpiece has been cast. Yu Kwang-Chung ??? Yu Kwang-Chung ????? Yu Kwang-Chung (1928?) is a major figure in modern Sinophone literature and culture. He is a poet, essayist, and translator who was born in China and relocated to Taiwan. By the time he graduated from National Taiwan University in 1952, Yu had acquired mastery of Mandarin, English, German, and Spanish. He has translated numerous literary works from English to Mandarin, among them The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway and ?Bartleby the Scrivener? by Herman Melville. Night Market in Heaven (?????), from which I have translated the present poems, showcases a particular phase of Yu?s poetry writing which is imbued with witticism, sarcasm, elegance resulting from his training in Chinese classical poetry, and the poetico-oratorical force influenced by modern poetry in the West. In ?The Universe in Perspective,? I attempt in the first two parts to represent the light-hearted, whimsical, and elegant tone in the Chinese original by using simple, childlike diction, depicting the anti-civilization points of view of a fly and a mosquito. The contrast between a learned philosopher and a fly, between Newton and a mosquito, serves to generate an outsider vision of the Universe that is conventionally considered human-centric. On the other hand, the universe between lovers is of a smaller scale. Yu depicts the power of love as altering lovers? vision and sense of the world and as making it smaller because, when in love, the lovers become the embodiment of each other?s world. In the last line of this poem, I play with the pun ?power failure,? which suggests the literal blackout and God?s failing to save the universe that is about to end. This pun works perfectly in both Chinese and English. The last two poems, ?Commentator? and ?The Birth of a Masterpiece,? use figures such as a barber and a blacksmith as metaphors to portray the relationship between critics/commentators and writers. A barber?s job is to trim the excessive hair and make it shine and look nice while a commentator?s job is to edit out words and refine each piece of writing to make it publishable. In my translation, I try to stick to the terminologies used in barbering and metal-forging industries to make the metaphors work efficiently in English. I did not encounter difficulty translating and representing the metaphors and their implications from Chinese to English because both lines of work are common and familiar to people in both Chinese- and English-speaking cultures. Susanne Petermann Orchards 52 The long life of the landscape, the bell, the pure deliverance of evening? all this prepares us for the approach of a kindly, unfamiliar figure? Our life goes on, strangely suspended between the faraway bow and the stab of the arrow, between a world that hesitates to seize the angel and She whose powerful hand prevents it. Susanne Petermann Orchards 54 In the eyes of animals, I?ve seen lasting peace, the impartial calm of nature that cannot be shaken. Every animal knows what fear is; nevertheless, it moves along, and on its field of plenty grazes a presence that has no taste for elsewhere. Rainer Maria Rilke Vergers 52 Rainer Maria Rilke Vergers 54 f al Doe, the deep, ancient beauty of forests flows from your eyes, circles of trust shot through with utter fear. The lively grace of your leaping expresses all these things, yet nothing can shake the calm insouciance on your face. Susanne Petermann Orchards 59 I?ve said my goodbyes. Since childhood countless departures have gradually honed me. But I return, I begin again, which is what sets my attention free. All I can do now is fill my gaze. All I can do, without holding back, is feel the joy of having loved what reminds me of all the losses that move us. Rainer Maria Rilke Vergers 59 The series of fifty-nine poems called Orchards (Vergers) was composed in 1924?1925. It was Rainer Maria Rilke?s first literary production written originally in French, published by Gallimard in 1926, the year of his death. Rilke particularly loved a handful of French words he considered untranslatable, at least in sound, rhythm, and spirit. One of them was verger, ?orchard.? The title poem of the series begins thus: Perhaps, dear borrowed language, I?ve been so bold as to write you because of the rustic name whose unique domain has taunted me forever: Verger. The title poem, ?29: Orchard,? occurs in the middle of the series, like the fountain at the orchard?s center from which all else flows. In this series, the poet contemplates aspects of nature as well as those of his personal environment demonstrating that, more than being mere symbols for humanity, these represent actual indifferent projections of our being. We can look into them as into a mirror. The last two lines of poem #21 inform us that ??orchard and road are no different / from anything that we are.? The orchard is a container, a kind of hologram for all of life and its seasons, most especially the poignant decline at the turning from summer to autumn. The joy, magic, and perfection of ripe fruit brings immediately to the poet?s mind the end of a happy season. Summer, by definition, betrays us with its bright promises. I selected this group of four poems from the very end of Orchards to emphasize this poignancy. As the end of the series approaches, it becomes more and more obvious that these poems comprise Rilke?s poetic farewell to his beloved world. ?I?ve said my goodbyes,? he declares in the last entry. In ?Orchards 52,? the poet tells us that the angel of death is both welcoming and firm and that often we feel ambivalent about continuing to struggle through life. A careful reading of ?Orchards 54? and ?Orchards 57? reveals that true beauty and peace are not possible without darkness and shadow. Over and over an archetypal paradox is shown to us, the fact that growth lies within ?the deep, ancient beauty / of forests? seen in the eyes of the doe, and in the push-pull between the fear and peace of a cow or horse grazing in a pasture. Life for Rilke, as he looked back, was a series of ?losses that move us? forward. The difficulty of translating Rilke will cause the heart of any Rilke translator?and there are many, though not of the French poems?to lurch with familiarity, affection, and dread. Rilke in German is notoriously labyrinthine; whether by choice or by inclination, or in the name of lyricism, Rilke sometimes turns the syntactically simpler French language into a Germanic tangle. Still, most of these poems are more straightforward than the German ones, thank goodness. That?s not to say they are easy to translate. They simply present a less ornate doorway f al into the same complex, paradoxical ideas as those in Rilke?s German poems. The French language obviously offers a different set of cognates and similarities to English than does German. At times in my translation process, the seemingly simplest word choices did not offer the most poetic translation, nor did they result in a translation I myself could enjoy. To give a specific example, ?Orchards 57: The Doe [La Biche]?, begins, in French: ? la biche: quel bel int?rieur d?anciennes for?ts dans tes yeux abonde; combien de confiance ronde m?l?e ? combien de peur. Literally: ?Oh, the doe: what a beautiful interior / of ancient forests in your eyes abounds; / what round confidence / mixed with such fear.? To begin with, there is the ? and the quel, followed by two occurrences of combien, all of which lend a tone of breathless drama. I acknowledge the romantic style of Rilke?s poetic heritage, but there are other ways to convey the urgency of this poem. Personally, I am far more interested in the fact that this poet sees a deer and has instant, serious respect for this being. Gary Miranda, a translator I admire, gave us a marvelous new version of Rilke?s Duino Elegies (Tavern Books, Portland, 2013). In his afterword, he says this on the pesky subject of ?: ??a modern American reader has far less tolerance for ?O? than a European reader of Rilke?s day, and one has to assume that Rilke would have been sensitive to that fact had he been writing for a modern American audience. So, if you?re aiming to approximate the original experience for a modern audience, you?re going to have to jettison some of those Os. This is just one reason that it?s always seemed silly to me to talk about a definitive translation. Definitive for whom?? (pp. 66?67) There is another ?false friend? in Rilke?s word int?rieur which is a simple matter of ?interior? or ?inside.? However, here, as in many of the French poems, I have taken the risk of assuming that the poet used that particular word in service of his rhyme scheme. I do pay attention to rhythm, but attempting to replicate Rilke?s rhymes has never been my goal; I am satisfied with resonances such as those between ?doe? and ?deep,? and ?forests? and ?flows.? The more I studied this poem, the more I felt that Rilke was referring to the fearful and beautiful darkness of a Grimms? fairy tale forest, seen reflected in the black eyes of the doe. So, I chose to rearrange these lines a bit, and render the idea of ?interior? in the adjective ?deep.? My hope is that I have transferred the drama of the original to the third and fourth lines of the verse, using the short and emphatic ?shot through? and ?utter fear.? Rilke wrote more than 300 poems in French in the last four years of his life while living in an ancient tower in Switzerland, his physical condition deteriorating. These poems reveal his intuition that he was seriously ill; doctors diagnosed leukemia only days before his death on December 27, 1926. He was just 51 years old. Many of the French poems were found among his papers and published posthumously. 104 TraNsferNCe Emily Katz Anhalt teaches classical languages and literature at Sarah Lawrence College. She holds an AB from Dartmouth College and a PhD in classical philology from Yale University. Her publications include Solon the Singer: Politics and Poetics (Rowman & Littlefield, 1993) as well as articles on the poetics of metaphor in Homeric epic poetry. Her new book on the critique of rage in ancient Greek myth is forthcoming from Yale University Press. For their suggestions and advice regarding this translation, she is extremely grateful to Ann Lauinger of Sarah Lawrence College and to Transference?s editor David Kutzko and the anonymous referee. Jane Beal, PhD, is an associate researcher in the Department of English at the University of California, Davis. She is the author of John Trevisa and the English Polychronicon, editor of Illuminating Moses: A History of Reception from Exodus to the Renaissance, and co-editor of Translating the Past: Essays on Medieval Literature and Approaches to Teaching the Middle English Pearl (MLA, forthcoming). She has published on John Trevisa, the Pearl poet, and the early English women writers Marie de France, Julian of Norwich, Margery Kempe, Queen Elizabeth I, and Aemilia Lanyer as well as Jonathan Edwards, an American preacher of the Great Awakening, and J.R.R. Tolkien, the father of modern fantasy. She is the creator of numerous works of poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction as well as new work in translation. To learn more, please visit Houssem Ben Lazreg is currently a PhD student and a teaching assistant for Arabic/French in the Department of Modern Languages and Cultural Studies at the University of Alberta in Canada. He was a Fulbright Foreign Language Teaching Assistant of Arabic at Michigan State University from 2010?2011. He holds a Master of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) from Nazareth College of Rochester. Houssem has also taught Arabic, French, and English at different American institutions such as West Virginia University and Indiana University in Bloomington. In addition to teaching foreign languages, Houssem has been working as a freelance translator. His latest publication is ?The Abbasid Translation Movement: Al Jahiz as a Pioneer? published in Studia o Przek?adzie pod redakcj?. He is currently working on the Arab Spring and notably the role of translators and interpreters within the social movements. Dean A. Brink (Bao De-le) is an associate professor in the Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, National Chiao Tung University, Hsinchu, Taiwan. His current research ranges from studies of Taiwanese poetry in Japanese and Chinese to contemporary American poetry and French experimental writing and appears in Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies; Canadian Review of American Studies; Textual Practice; CLCWeb; and elsewhere. Original poetry has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review; Cordite Poetry Review; f al Exquisite Corpse; Going Down Swinging; New Writing; Portland Review (online); and elsewhere, including the anthology In Protest (2013). He maintains two blogs: Taiwan Scooter Poet and Broken Traffic: English Translations from Japanese, Chinese, and French. Roselee Bundy is Professor of Japanese Language and Literature at Kalamazoo College. She has published a number of studies on the poet Fujiwara Teika and the poetry of the Shinkokin period, including ?Solo Poetry Contest as Poetic Self Portrait: The One-Hundred-Rounds of Lord Teika?s Own Poems,? in Monumenta Nipponica (2006). More recently, she has turned to issues of gender in Heian utaawase and other texts and has published several pieces related to this topic in the U.S. Japan Women?s Journal (2007, 2009), Japanese Language and Literature (2012), and Monumenta Nipponica (2012). Kent H. Dixon is primarily a fiction and non-fiction writer?published in TriQuarterly; Carolina Quarterly; Iowa Review; Georgia Review; Shenandoah; Gettysburg Review; Antioch Review; Kansas Quarterly; Florida Review; Energy Review; and American Prospect. Awards include first prize at Story?s Love Story Competition, and several Ohio Arts Council awards. He has translations of Rilke, Baudelaire, Mallarm?, and Sappho online, and Japanese hibakushu poetry in Luna. Forthcoming is a full graphic novel rendition of the Epic of Gilgamesh in collaboration with his artist son Kevin. He teaches literature and creative writing at Wittenberg University in Springfield, Ohio, where he lives with his writer wife and four kayaks. B. N. Faraj is a writer and poet who lives in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. He holds a bachelor?s degree from the University of Detroit and a master?s from the University of Michigan. He?s finalizing a translation of a collection of classical Arabic poems. Darcy L. Gauthier is a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto?s Centre for Comparative Literature. He is presently writing his dissertation on ?The Politics of Fantasy in Post-War Japan.? He spent the 2013?2014 academic year in Yokohama as a recipient of the Japan Foundation Fellowship, during which time he translated many of Abe K?b??s early works into English. Though he has published articles in the East Asia Forum and The University of Toronto Quarterly, this is his first published translation. Jake Gordon is a translator from London. He recently graduated from an MA course in the theory and practice of translation at University College London, where he focused on the performative aspects of modern Arabic poetry for his dissertation. When he is not translating the work of contemporary Lebanese poet Mariam Michtawi, he works in television production. Ana Maria Guay received her BA from the University of Michigan (Ann Arbor) TraNsferNCe Andrew Gudgel received a BA in Chinese from The Ohio State University and an MA in Liberal Arts from St. John?s College, Annapolis. He spent a decadeplus working for the U.S. government, mostly in U.S. embassies overseas, before becoming a freelance writer and translator. He currently lives in Maryland. Carol Hayes is a senior lecturer in Japanese language and Japanese studies at the Australian National University, Australia. She has a PhD in modern Japanese literature from the University of Sydney. Her research focuses on modern and contemporary Japanese cultural studies, literature, and film. Past work has focused on Hagiwara Sakutar? and other modern poets, the portrayals of the Pacific War in Japanese film, and zainichi cultural identity in literature. Recent translations co-authored with Rina Kikuchi have appeared in the 2015 edition of Poetry Kanto. George Held has translated more than 100 of Martial?s epigrams and published many of these translations in such journals as Circumference; Ezra; 5 AM; International Poetry Review; and Notre Dame Review, as well as in Martial Artist (Toad Press Translation Series, 2005). An eight-time Pushcart Prize nominee, he has published eighteen collections of his own poems, most recently in the chapbook Bleak Splendor (Muddy River Books, forthcoming 2016). Uri Horesh holds a PhD in sociolinguistics from the University of Essex. His research focuses on language variation and change in the Middle East, and especially on language contact between Arabic and Hebrew in Palestine. He has published research articles in Journal of Sociolinguistics; Journal of Jewish Languages; Zeitschrift f?r arabische Linguistik; and in edited volumes, most recently in Semitic Languages in Contact, edited by Aaron M. Butts, as well as entries for The Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics. He has taught courses in Arabic language and linguistics at Georgetown University and the University of Texas at Austin. He was the founding director of the Arabic Language Program at Franklin & Marshall College and has just finished a two-year term as Language Coordinator in the Program in Middle East and North African Studies at Northwestern University. Rina Kikuchi is an associate professor at Shiga University, Japan, where she has been teaching English language, literature, and cultural studies since 2003. She has a PhD in contemporary Irish poetry from Chiba University, which included a f al Steve Light, a basketball point-guard following upon Nate Archibald, Pete Maravich, and Willie Somerset?and akin as well to Steve Nash, Chris Paul, Stephen Curry, and Earl Boykins?is also a philosopher and poet. He is the translator of Jean Grenier?s Islands: Lyrical Essays (Green Integer Press, 2005) and his translations of poems from the Friulian and Italian of Pier Paolo Pasolini; the Italian of Sergio Solmi, Umberto Saba, Giuseppi Ungaretti, Salvatore Quasimodo, and Carlo Carabba; the French of Alain Suied and Jean-Baptiste Para; and the German of Rainer Maria Rilke have appeared in journals and reviews in the U.S., Canada, and the U.K. His own writings have appeared in the U.S., Jamaica, Canada, Australia, the U.K., France, Italy, Russia, Turkey, Argentina, Brazil, and Japan. Hsinmei Lin, a PhD student in English at the University of Washington, was born and raised in Taipei, Taiwan. She is interested in both English and Mandarin Chinese poetry. Lin is currently conducting research on nineteenth-century American poetry and its literal and literary translatability in the context of world literature through the lens of transnationalism and the intersection of human and nonhuman spheres in terms of language and perception. Edward Morin has graduate degrees in English from the University of Chicago and Loyola University (Chicago). He has taught English and writing at Wayne State University, University of Michigan, the University of Cincinnati, and elsewhere. He has edited and, with Fang Dai and Dennis Ding, co-translated an anthology, The Red Azalea: Chinese Poetry since the Cultural Revolution (U. of Hawaii Press, 1990). They have also co-translated a book-length manuscript of poems by the contemporary Chinese poet Cai Qijiao. Collections of Morin?s poems include Labor Day at Walden Pond (1997) and The Dust of Our City (1978). He has a new chapbook of poems soon to be published by Cervena Barva Press in West Somerville, MA. He lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Susanne Petermann graduated with a BA in German and French from Macalester College in 1979. She spent almost a decade traveling in Europe and teaching English in Morocco before returning to the U.S. After discovering Rilke?s French poems in 1993, she began to re-translate them, while also writing original poetry as well as essays on the relationship between healing and writing. Her translations have appeared in Agni; Epiphany; Solstice; Jung Journal of Culture and Psyche; Inventory; Rhino; and elsewhere. TraNsferNCe Samuel N. Rosenberg, professor emeritus of French and Italian at Indiana University, is a medievalist chiefly interested in textual edition of lyric poetry and in translation. Recently, he has wandered from Old French into Modern, notably with the publication of Berlioz on Music (Oxford UP, 2015), and has ventured far afield with lyric pieces translated from Gascon and Latin. He is now preparing an English verse rendering of the 13th-century romance, Robert le Diable. William Ruleman?s translations have appeared in many journals including The AALitra Review; Ezra; The Galway Review; The New English Review; Poetry Life and Times; The Recusant; and The Sonnet Scroll. His books include two collections of his own poems (A Palpable Presence and Sacred and Profane Loves, both from Feather Books), as well as the following volumes of translation: Poems from Rilke?s Neue Gedichte (WillHall Books, 2003); Vienna Spring: Early Novellas and Stories of Stefan Zweig (Ariadne Press, 2010); Verse for the Journey: Poems on the Wandering Life; A Girl and the Weather (poems and prose of Stefan Zweig); and Selected Poems of Maria Luise Weissmann (the last three from Cedar Springs Books). He is a professor of English at Tennessee Wesleyan College. Yasmin Snounu was born in Gaza City, Palestine, and as a Fulbright scholar earned a Master of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) at Eastern Michigan University (2011). During her undergraduate studies, she volunteered in many non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in Gaza. Upon earning her bachelor?s degree at Al Azhar University with majors in English and French Literature, she worked at the Women?s Affairs Center, which promotes the welfare of women in Gaza. Yasmin lived at home with her family through Israel?s attack on Gaza in December 2008?January 2009. After earning her master?s degree, she returned to Gaza and taught literature and English as a second language. She is currently pursuing a PhD in urban education at Eastern Michigan University. Joshua Solomon is a PhD candidate in the University of Chicago?s East Asian Languages and Civilizations program. His research centers around the Japanese concept of furusato (home/origins) and the Tsugaru region in northern Honshu, with emphasis on folk music, regional literature, and avant-garde art. He has previously published several translations of scholarly works as well as the academic article ?Nanji futatabi kokyo ni kaerezu: Terayama Shuji to kokyo no sai ?sozo?? (?You can?t go home again: Terayama Shuji and the reconstruction of kokyo?). He enjoys wrestling with vernacular poetry and translation, as well as performing Tsugaru folk music on his shamisen. Kendra Strand is a visiting professor of Japanese at St. Olaf College, where she teaches Japanese language, literature, and culture. She received her PhD in Japanese literature from the University of Michigan. In her dissertation, she translates four travel diaries by political elites in the fourteenth century and examines how f al landscape and travel are used in these texts to address issues of social and political authority. Her research focuses on premodern Japanese travel writing, poetry, and visual culture. She is also interested in issues of translation, canon, and reception in modern and contemporary cultural production in Japan. Yasser Tabbaa has graduate degrees in anthropology and art history of the Middle East. He has been a curator of antiquities in museums of two Arab countries and has also been a teaching and publishing scholar for over two decades at U.S. universities, including the University of Texas, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the University of Michigan, and Oberlin College. His books include The Transformation of Islamic Art during the Sunni Revival (U. of Washington Press, 2002) and Constructions of Power and Piety in Medieval Aleppo (Penn State Press, 1996). Corine Tachtiris has published translations of poetry and short fiction by contemporary Haitian women writers as well as articles on translation theory, world literature, and Haitian immigrant writing. She holds an MFA in literary translation from the University of Iowa and a PhD in comparative literature from the University of Michigan. She has taught translation theory and practice as well as world literatures at Hampshire College, Kalamazoo College, the University of Massachusetts Amherst, and the Universit? Paris Diderot. Born in the city of Hiroshima, Goro Takano (????) is an assistant professor in the Faculty of Medicine at Saga University, Japan, where he teaches English and Japanese/Western literature. His first novel, With One More Step Ahead, was published in the U.S. by BlazeVOX in 2009. His first poetry collection, Responsibilities of the Obsessed, was published in the U.S. by BlazeVOX in 2013. His second poetry collection, Silent Whistle-blowers, will be out soon. Jun Tang is Associate Professor of Translation Studies at Southeast University, China. She is the author of over forty articles (in English and Chinese) and two books (in Chinese) on translation studies. Her English articles have been published by international peer-reviewed journals such as META; Perspectives; Target; and European Journal of English Studies. She has also served as a peer reviewer for five international journals. TraNsferNCe

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Transference Vol. 3, Fall 2015, Transference, 2016,