Transference Vol. 5, Fall 2017

Transference, Dec 2017

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Transference Vol. 5, Fall 2017

Transference Vol. 5, Fall 2017 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: - Vol. 5 ISSN (print): 973-2325-5072 ISSN (online): 2325-5099 © Transference 2017 Cover: “Mask” by John Running-Johnson (; ) Globe image © Don Hammond/Design Pics/Corbis An Annual Publication of the Department of World Languages and Literatures at Western Michigan University Volume V 2017 Andrew Gudgel Stopping the Boat Near Xiling Bridge by Tan Yuanchun Reciting Alone by Tan Yuanchun Leaving Jiufeng Mountain by Night by Tan Yuanchun Roger Greenwald Poor Rutebeuf by Rutebeuf/Leo Ferré William Ruleman Gina by Georg Heym Steamers on the Havel by Georg Heym I made my landing on an island where… by Georg Heym Both day and evening now began to seep by Georg Heym Carol Hayes and Rina Kikuchi Untitled Nonsense by Yoshihara Sachiko She by Yoshihara Sachiko Contradictions by Yoshihara Sachiko Houssem Ben Lazreg In Jerusalem by Tamim Al-Barghouti Ranald Barnicot To Fabullus (Invitation) by Catullus Notes on Contributors iv Transfec 41 41 43 48 49 50 51 54 55 57 61 68 74 “Because of all this,” writes Nina Youkhanna in her translation of Suzanne Alaywan, “the rain creates—in the space between one drop and the next—this colossal echo.” To a certain extent, the notion of an echo in the space between one drop of rain and the next can be seen as a metaphorical representation of poetic translation in and of itself. An echo depends entirely on the original sound, but it also carries a certain distortion and mystery, both of which add to its arresting appeal when our own call bounces back towards us from a mountainside. It would be risky to push the metaphor too far, but it is certainly true that poetic translation occurs in a space between: a space between the original poem’s meaning and language on the one hand, and the translator’s reading of the poem paired with the linguistic toolbox afforded by the target language on the other. In this sense, a collection of translated poems can be said to resemble overlapping echoes created by multiple voices, each of which is calling out from a distinct point of perspective on the human experience. The voices in this year’s issue speak of fragmentation, loss, yearning, truth, spirituality, injustice, love and desire— all serious subjects—but at the same time there are touches of lightness and even humor. Ronsard abandons the repeated long climbs up the palace stairs to see the object of his affections in Ann Lauinger’s translation of “I’d mind less, if you only took account”; in Gregory Divers’s translation of Yaak Karsunke’s “mystery and crime,” we contemplate the pragmatics of stealing a Ferris Wheel; and in Ranald Barnicot’s translation of Catullus’s “To Fabullus (Invitation),” his guest is invited to bring his own dinner. This issue also includes some carefully distilled reflections on the passing and ceasing of life and time, and in the last stanza of William Ruleman’s translation of Georg Heym’s “Both day and evening began to seep…,” we see a dreamlike vision of the faraway: 2017 v And near and far now blended in one field, One wall or scene of equal radiance. The moon’s path spanned the ice’s wide expanse With muted gleam, as on an ancient shield. Interestingly, this image of a muted gleam on an ancient shield finds an echo in the observation that Ann Cefola makes in her commentary about the enigmatic poetry of Hélène Sanguinetti: Heightened by multiple individual voices, it is studded with jewel-like imagery such as grains of sand or dust, a bird’s beak, or snow falling on snow. Each voice in this volume expresses its own particular truth about the human condition, and some make reverberations that harmonize in surprising ways with the others. We hope that you enjoy the rich variety of sound, topic, and texture that they offer. Molly Lynde-Recchia, Editor-in-Chief vi Transfec Nina Youkhanna Excerpts from The Clutter of Words 1 Who has broken the moon’s lantern? What rain is this that Extinguishes the stars with its shoe? Where is my window, O walls? Who has made the willow cry on the shore of my soul? And you, my hand, Wherefrom did you get all this fearlessness? 2. Pdf page 9 a. Paragraph 2, line مﻼﻜﻟا ﺐﯿﻛاﺮﻛ b. Paragraph 3, line karakeeb (ﺐﯿﻛاﺮﻛ), 2 Because the morning has lost its yearning. Because I have outrun my desire 3. Pdf page 39 and emptied speech of all its clutter. Poem title: Because I am without friends. Standing My heart, a shadow rose. My body, an absence tree. Because ink is not blood. Because my photographs do not resemble me 4. Pdf page 42 and the moon that hangs in the closet is not suitable to clothe Pmoyesmoult.itle: Because I loved with a worthless sincerity The Ninth Floor Ag and only when I was broken The Military Hospit did I realize the magnitude of the tragedy. Because this city reminds me of a woman’s voice whose defeat I cannot forget. Because God is singular and death is innumerable 5. Pdf page 44 And because we no longer exchange letters. a. Paragraph 1, line Because of all this, the rain creates— in the space between one drop and the next— this colossal echo. (دﻼﺒﻟا ﺮﻋﺎﺷ), b. Paragraph 1, line (ﺔﺘﺴﻟا مﺎﯾﻷا ﺪﯿ 2017 1 3 Clowns with their powders, without features. Angels dead in the arcades. The cafe of the past. Cement squares and benches. Music that leans towards the cry of the window. A season of birds. Disease. Hospital. Recurrent scenes of suffering every time. Closed doors. Our bitter tears on the doorknobs. A school uniform suspended by its shredded wings. Prostitutes embracing their umbrellas In the frost of dawn on distant sidewalks. Overcoat wet like a handkerchief. The woman whose hair used to laugh with the willows and with the stars. Her unknown place is in a cemetery somewhere. Tattered posters on the remnants of walls. The desolate city. With its wrecked houses and its children charred in the refugee camps. Water and metal—that impossible equation. Rain: the hammer and the nails, our shattered mirrors. Transfec Commentary Arabic Script Corrections – Transfe ing, she also paints and has previously published her artwork i1n.,Padnfdpaasgpea7rt of, her poetry collections. She currently resides iPnoBemeirtuittl.eS:he has a personal we2b.sPitdefwphaegree 9she publishes her pEoxecterrypatsndfrohmer TarhtewCorlukt,therttopf:/W/woawr.dwPsa.sruazgaranpnhe-2a, The three translated poems appear in her 2006 collectمiﻼoﻜnﻟاtﺐitlﯿeﻛdاﺮTﻛhe Clutter of Words (مﻼﻜﻟا ﺐﯿﻛاﺮﻛ ), which, appearing as one long poem, consists of short segments. There are several reoccurring images in the long pbo.emParthagartalpinhk3t,hleinseh3o:rter ones t2o.gPedthfepr,agsuec9h as the heavy rain that provides the soundtrack to Alaywan’s words.2:However, aknadraakseetbhe(ﺐtiﯿtﻛlاeﺮﻛi)n,dicates, this a. Paragraph 2, line collection is made up of words—scattered, incoherent, reverberating, pregnant. They appear together in (often peculiar yet organﺐicﯿ)ﻛاﺮsuﻛccession, and attempt to transmit profound emoمﻼﻜﻟا tions, unencumbered by syntax and grammatical regulations. b. ParaPgerarhpahp3s, iltinise t3h:is “clutter”3t.hPadtfpproavgeed3t9he most difficult to translate into English. The APraobeimc wtitolred: Alaywan employs, kkaarraakkeeeebb (ﺐﯿﻛاﺮﻛ), refers to an aSrtraanydionfg old, worthlesفsﻮhﻗoﻮuﻟاsمeﺎﻘﻣ items such as furniture—what is referred to in English as “junk.” However, I have opted for “clutter” instead because, in its implications of untidiness, it perfectly represents the chain of p3o.ePtdicf ipmaaggee3s9that permeate thi4s. cPodllfecptaiogne.4A2laywan emphasPiozeesmt htietlesi:multaneous power anPdoiemmptoittleen:ce of words, which, mStuacnhdilnikge our feelingsف,cﻮaﻗﻮnﻟا bمﺎeﻘﻣcTohneveNyiendthinFlfooorrceAfuglaiwna:ys, yet somehow remain ineffable. The MilimtayryaHbiolistpyi,tatlo remain I have attempted, to the best of as true as possible to the text in my translation. Alaywan’s use of free verse enables her to construct disarrayed verses outs4i.dPedtfhepargesetr4i2ctions of rhyme and meter, and it was certainly aPochemallteintlgee: to imitate that same 5st.rPudctfuprea gine E44nglish because it oTfhteenNbiencthomFelososrtrAangagiena:nd unintae.llPigairbalger.aIpnhth1e,sliencea1se:s, I h aًادvﺪeﺠﻣ ﻊﺳﺎﺘﻟا pTrhiveilMegielidtamryeHanoisnpgitoavler composition because, I believe, thatيiﺮsﻜﺴﻌﻟا ﻰﻔﺸ the essence of Alaywan’s writing(.دﻼFﺒoﻟاrﺮeﻋxﺎaﺷm), ple, for the second poem I separated the last three lines and add a final “Because of b. Paragraph 1, line 6: all this” in order to indicate to the reader that all the previous “Because’s” were intended to lead to the final image of the rain drops’ echo. Most of the punctuation was also added for the purpose of rendering, as closely as possible, the flow of the original Arabic. My immeasurable love for Arabic poetry proved at times to be a frustrating obstacle in my search for the perfect rendition of Alaywan’s bewitching words. Nevertheless, the process was delightful in its own right because I had the support and guidance of my inspiring sister Nahrin, and my father Atalla whose love of poetry has nurtured my soul since birth. Alaywan, Suzanne. The Clutter of Words. Beirut, 2006, pp. 3, 8-9, 18-19. Ann Lauinger Four Sonnets from Ronsard Pierre de Ronsard Sonnets pour Hélène Whoever reads me, fool for love or wise Whoever reads me, fool for love or wise, and sees my grizzled head ought not to wonder I write of love. Old firewood that lies half-burnt hides yet a spark in the gray cinder. Green wood, blown on, is hardly coaxed to light; with no coaxing, the dry will always burn. The Moon was wooed and won with fleece of white; her old Tithonus was not despised by Dawn. Reader, I don’t aspire to Plato’s school (to preach us virtue, but the practice shun) nor to the lethal daring of the utter fool, stubborn Icarus or clumsy Phaethon. Yet without playing charioteer or high-flier, I burn and drown myself in my own desire. II. 1 These long winter nights, when round its circuit II. 42 These long winter nights, when round its circuit, the idle moon so slowly turns her car, when the cock heralds break of day so late, and to care-filled minds a night feels like a year, I’d die of grief, but for your doubtful form, which lightens my love’s burden through a cheat and, settling wholly naked in my arms, misleads me with a lying joy so sweet. The real you is savage, proudly cruel. In private, I enjoy the seeming you, and, pleasured by your counterfeit in full, I drowse at peace beside your shade. It’s true, kind sleep’s deceit abuses my lover’s pain: such loving self-abuse, I count as gain. I do not wish my heart’s jailer dead I do not wish my heart’s jailer dead. However, Love, if only to avenge the six years of my weeping, do this: change her, seed thickly with snowy hairs that head. If you wish it, vengeance is near at hand; you shorten years, you can linger them out. Don’t suffer her, in your own camp, to flout your old brawler. Age her, heed my demand. She glories in her curls, her youth’s fresh green, the thousand darts she harbors in her keen eyes that, glancing, launch them in every breast. Helen, why do you pride yourself on something, beauty, which is no more than wind, a nothing? Beauty’s roses scarcely the day outlast. I. 62 I’d mind less, if you only took account I’d mind less, if you only took account of my pains, the stairs I count and re-count often, the sum to the palace summit I must mount to reach your rooms: Olympus was not so lofty! At each visit, sweat courses down my face; my pulse races; breathless, I puff and pant, and all to hear your refusal, in a voice full of disdain and cold pride—a torment. Goddess-like, you’re throned in the most high; I can’t ascend your heaven: I’m no god. I’ll send my devout heart up to your sky, lamenting as usual, but from the yard. To Jove in heaven, that’s how we men pray, keeping firmly on earth our feet of clay. II.65 In translating Ronsard’s Sonnets pour Hélène I hoped not so much to reproduce the exact structure and rhyme-scheme as to capture the astonishing variety of tone Ronsard achieves even in a single sonnet. This variety is all the more remarkable, since Ronsard’s style in these sonnets is limpid and straightforward, with lines that are syntactically simple and end-stopped more often than not. Ronsard’s sonnets are written in alexandrines and are Petrarchan in form: an octave rhyming abba abba, a sestet more freely organized around two or three new end-rhymes. My translation substitutes iambic pentameter and the familiar Shakespearean three quatrains and couplet—for Englishlanguage readers the prototype of the love sonnet—and employs occasional half-rhymes. Practically speaking, the stress patterns of English make hexameter lines feel much heavier in English than in French; and the relative poverty of rhymes in English, compared to the romance languages, makes the Petrarchan octave on only two rhymes more constraining in English. However, I hope the half-rhymes I’ve used are not just an evasion of constraint but help to recreate the nimble, even colloquial, voice of Ronsard. Whoever reads me, fool for love or wise The story of how Pan seduced the Moon by luring her into the woods with a white fleece (disguising himself as a ram?) is found in Vergil’s Third Georgic: Munere sic niveo lanae, si credere dignum est, Pan deus Arcadiae captam te, Luna, fefellit, In nemora alta vocans; nec tu aspernata vocantem. (391-3) [Thus with a prize of snow-white wool, if the story is worth believing, Pan, the god of Arcadia, tricked and caught you, Luna, calling from the deep woods; nor did you spurn him when he called.] This witty and self-mocking sonnet is directly indebted to one of the best-known of Ovid’s Amores, “Aestus erat, mediamque dies exegerat horam” [ “It was hot, and deep mid-afternoon”] (I. 5), in which the speaker’s summer afternoon nap is deliciously interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Corinna, and all proceeds just as he could have wished it. Ronsard jokingly reverses Ovid’s poem in several ways. Here, the setting is not summer but winter, not day but night, and the speaker is insomniac. Where Ovid’s poem balances beautifully our uncertainty as to whether the experience was real, Ronsard clearly depicts an erotic dream. The speaker falls for the fake Hélène, and so the sonnet is self-mockery—or rather, mock self-mockery, since, as Ovid everywhere maintains, fake is good. Lie to me, Ovid begs (Amores I. 4 and III. 14), and he promises to collude in the lies his lover will tell to cover up her infidelities. In this sonnet too, Ronsard collaborates happily in his self-deceit and enjoys its fruits. The play on the word “abuse” in the final couplet of the translation renders the double-entendre of Ronsard’s last two lines: “…abuse par le faux…/ S’abuser en amour…”). This translation doesn’t fully capture the mimetic skill of Ronsard’s first two lines, with their repetitions of sound and meaning creating the slow passage of the night (“Ces longues nuicts d’hyver, où la Lune ocieuse / Tourne si lentement son char tout à l’entour”). I do not wish my heart's jailer dead I have followed the envelope structure of Ronsard’s octave but allowed myself four rhymes, not two. “Your old brawler” (8) is an attempt to render the pejorative sense of soudart: a career soldier—thus, a ruffian or desperado, according to Renaissance popular opinion (an opinion not without empirical basis at the time). Ovid’s Amores is the source of the military metaphor for Cupid and the lover. The trope of the stand-offish beloved getting her or his comeuppance with age is familiar, most notably perhaps in Horace’s Odes (see I. 25, IV. 10, IV. 13), and is often paired with the exhortation to seize the day, as in the most famous of the Son10 Transfec nets for Hélène, “Quand vous serez bien vieille” (II. 43). Here, however, les roses are the sonnet’s final words; left unplucked, they stand simply as an emblem of the brevity of mortal beauty and a rebuke to vanity. I'd mind less, if you only took account A jokey sonnet, whose ironic wit targets both the lady and the poet-lover. Hélène’s goddess-like elevation is actually a palace apartment up many flights of stairs, and the poet’s ascent to her hyperbolically Olympian abode is a catalog of his corporeal ills: a fine romance! The first two lines of the original (“…si tu contois ma peine,/ De conter tes degrez recontez tant de fois”) pun multiply on the repeated verb, which can mean to enumerate, to take account of, and to recount or narrate; and at the root of which lurks a bawdy pun. I’ve tried in the first three lines of the translation to recreate Ronsard’s sound repetitions and suggestiveness by additional repetitions and the exploitation of a different pun, based on his sommet (summit) in line 3. The last two lines of this sonnet are densely linked in the French by diction and sound: “Ainsi les hommes font à Jupiter priere:/ Les hommes sont en terre, et Jupiter aux cieux.” My free translation eliminates the repeated phrases but adds “feet of clay” to convey the mocking self-deprecation of the original. N.B. French quotations above follow the source text I’ve used, in which some words lack their modern accents: Ronsard, Pierre de. Oeuvres Complètes. Edited by Gustave Cohen, vol. 1, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade-Editions Gallimard, 1950, pp. 243, 259, 241, 268–69. title of “Untitled Nonsense.” The original Japanese uses the kanji term mu-dai (無題) which translates directly as "no-title," with the superscript furigana nansensu (ナンセンス) written above the kanji. Because nansensu is a foreign loan word coming from the English word “nonsense,” katakana script is used. We aimed to capture these two layers in our translated title. Another interesting title translation issue is in the poem, “She.” In the original Japanese, the title of this poem is ano hito (あのひと) which translates directly as “that person.” However, this is a poem dedicated to her ailing mother, and the “that person” is the poet’s mother. In Japanese, the expression ano hito does not carry the same sense of distance as “that person” in English. Thus, we have chosen to use “she” as it conveys a more immediate and personal feeling which we feel the original evokes. Yoshihara intentionally uses single or double spaces between her words and phrases in the original poems, although Japanese sentences do not usually include any such spaces. We have used ten English spaces for each single Japanese space to reflect this structure. Finally, when we translate we often find ourselves discussing the smaller grammatical elements in the original Japanese and deciding whether or not to include them in the English, as they sometimes add too much emphasis to a particular word, over and beyond the original. For example, in “Contradictions,” Yoshihara uses no ni (のに) which is a conjunction that carries a number of meanings, such as “although,” “in spite of,” or “regardless.” In this poem, we argue that the meaning is “regardless” and not “although,” and that if we included it, the translation of Line 4 in both stanzas would become, “Regardless of the fact that I will soon go to my death.” This we feel is too explanatory and places too much emphasis on the interconnection between Lines 4 and 5. As a result we have chosen to leave it to the reader to make that connection. Translators’ Notes: She Chasing rabbits: This is the beginning of the well-known Japanese song, “Furusato” (ふるさ), which means “home country.” Source texts: –––. むじゅん ("Contradictions"). Yoshihara Sachiko Zenshi, vol. 3, Shichosha, 2012, pp. 350–51. e 67 : m Houssem Ben Lazreg In Jerusalem Tamim Al-Barghouti سﺪﻘﻟا ﻲﻓ We passed by the home of the beloved but the enemy’s laws and wall turned us away I said to myself, “Maybe, that is a blessing” What will you see in Jerusalem when you visit? You will see all that you can’t stand when her houses become visible from all sides When meeting her beloved, not every soul rejoices Nor does every absence harm If they are delighted when meeting before departure such joy cannot remain kindled For once your eyes have seen Jerusalem You will only see her, wherever you look. In Jerusalem, a greengrocer from Georgia, annoyed with his wife, thinks of going on vacation or painting his house In Jerusalem, a middle-aged man from Upper Manhattan holds a Torah and teaches Polish boys its commandments In Jerusalem, an Ethiopian policeman seals off a street in the marketplace, A machine gun hangs from the shoulder of a teenage settler, A person wearing a yarmulke1 bows at the Wailing Wall,2 Blonde European tourists who don’t see Jerusalem at all but spend most of the time taking pictures of each other 1 A skullcap worn in public by Orthodox Jewish men or during prayer by other Jewish men. 2 A place of prayer and pilgrimage sacred to the Jewish people. f al And History turned to me and smiled: “Have you really thought that you would overlook them and see others? Here they are in front of you; They are the text while you are the footnote and margin O son, have you thought that your visit would remove, from the city’s face, the thick veil of her present, so that you may see what you desire? In Jerusalem, everyone is there but you. Jerusalem is the wandering deer As fate sentenced it to departure You still chase her since she bid you farewell O son, calm down for a while, I see that you began to faint” In Jerusalem, everyone is there but you. O historian, wait, The city has two timelines: One foreign, serene, with steady steps as if it is walking asleep The other wears a mask and walks secretly with caution And Jerusalem knows herself, Ask the people there, everyone will guide you Everything in the city has a tongue which, when you ask, will reply In Jerusalem, the crescent becomes more curved like an embryo Bending towards other crescents over the domes And over the years, their relation developed to be like a father to a son Transfec In Jerusalem, the stones of the buildings are quoted from the Bible and the Quran In Jerusalem, beauty is octagonal and blue On top of it, lies a golden dome3 that looks like, I think, a convex mirror Reflecting the face of the heavens Playing with it, drawing it near Distributing the sky, like aid in a siege for those in need If people appeal to God after Friday sermon In Jerusalem, the sky is shared by everyone, We protect it and it protects us And we carry it on our shoulders If time oppresses its moons. In Jerusalem, the marble columns are dark as though their veins were smoke Windows, high in mosques and churches, took dawn by hand, showing him how to paint with colors He says, “like this” but the windows reply, “no, like this” And after long debate, they compromise as the dawn is free when outside the threshold But if he wants to enter through God’s Windows He has to abide by their rules In Jerusalem there’s a school built by a Mameluke4 who came from beyond the river, was sold at a slave market in Isfahan 3 The most famous Islamic site in Jerusalem is the Dome of the Rock (Qubbat as-Sakhrah). A beautiful edifice, the Dome of the Rock can be seen from all over Jerusalem. 4 A member of a military class, originally composed of slaves, that seized control of the Egyptian sultanate in 1250, ruled until 1517, and remained powerful until crushed by Egyptian ruler Muhammad Ali in 1811. to a merchant from Baghdad, who traveled to Aleppo, and gave the Mameluke to Aleppo’s Prince Fearing the blueness in the Mameluke’s left eye, the Prince gave him to a caravan heading for Egypt where soon, he became the vanquisher of the Moguls and the Sovereign Sultan In Jerusalem, contradictions get along, and wonders cannot be denied People check them out like pieces of old and new fabric and miracles there are tangible. In Jerusalem, if you shake hands with an old man or touch a building you will find, engraved on your palm, my friend, a poem or two In Jerusalem, despite successive calamities a breeze of innocence and childhood fills the air And you can see doves fly high announcing, between two shots, the birth of an independent state In Jerusalem, the rows of graves are the lines of the city’s history while the book is the soil Everyone has passed through For Jerusalem welcomes all visitors, whether disbelievers or believers 5 Khan el Zeit is the busiest, most colorful shopping street in the Old City of Jerusalem. It has a popular market where spices, dried fruit, herbs, coffee, and pastries are sold. Transfec Walk through, and read the headstones in all languages You will find the Africans, the Europeans, the Kipchaks, the Slavs, the Bosniaks, the Tatars, the Turks, the believers, the disbelievers, the poor and the rich, the hermits, and the miscreants Here lie all sorts of people that ever walked the earth They were the footnotes of the book, now they are the main text before us. Is it just for us that the city has become too small? Oh chronicler! What made you exclude us? Re-write and think again, for I see that you made a grave mistake Tamim Al-Barghouti is a famous Palestinian poet, columnist and political scientist. He is one the most widely read poets in the Arab World. In 2011, Barghouti won the prize “Prince of Poets” in a TV competition. Tamim’s charisma, literary virtuosity, and political engagement captured the imagination of a wide Arab audience. He was a visiting professor of politics at Georgetown University in Washington DC from 2008 till 2011, and is currently a Consultant to the United Nations Economic and Social Committee for West Asia. He has published six poetry collections in both colloquial and classical Arabic, AlManzar (The Scene), 2000, Maqam Iraq (The Iraqi Ode), 2005, Fil Quds (In Jersualem), 2008, and Ya Masr Hanet (Oh Egypt, It’s Close), 2012, and two academic books on Arab politics and history (Benign Nationalism: Nation State Building Under Occupation, the Case of Egypt; and The Umma and the Dawla: The Nation State and the Arab Middle East). This poem is a diary of Tamim’s last visit to the occupied capital of his homeland. It is marked by a sad atmosphere through the allusions to the occupation soldiers, the illegal settlers, and the apartheid walls. It is a literary reportage from Jerusalem, broadcasted according to what the poet’s eyes witnessed. Nevertheless, the poem ends with a cheerful and optimistic tone. Thematically, the first part of the poem provides a realistic picture of Jerusalem, in which the poet highlights the different segments of the occupation forces such as the vegetable seller, the religious people, the Ethiopian policeman (Flasha Jews), and the armed settlers. However, in that same city, Muslims are prevented from praying in the Al-Aqsa Mosque, so they pray on the ground. The poem moves to another theme using wonderful rhetorical expressions and the poet converses with the history that was written with an impartial stance. This dialogue is characterized by a long description of Jerusalem, in which the poet describes the multiple identity of the city (Islamic, Christian and Jewish facets), and ends with an inclusive portrayal of all the nations and peoples that settled in Jerusalem. 66 Transfec This poem posits some challenges when translating it to English, notably on the stylistic and cultural level. On the stylistic level, the poet uses a hybrid poetic style that mixes Arabic classical prosody and free verse. In translating, I rendered the whole poem in free verse for two reasons: on the one hand, I would like to put the emphasis on the narrative aspect of the poem and the main theme (the visit to Jerusalem). On the other hand, I found it extremely challenging to preserve the rhymes of the source text as this poem is meant to be performed. On the cultural level, there are many references that are culture-specific, such as the yarmulke, the Wailing Wall, the Golden Dome, Mameluke, and Khan El Zeit. I added footnotes that would help a non-Arab audience to grasp the meaning and connotation of these references. Some of them are religious and are linked to the Jewish tradition (the yarmulke and the Wailing Wall), others are Islamic such as the Golden Dome. Mameluke, as a historical reference, means literally slave soldier, a member of one of the armies of slaves that controlled politically and militarily several Muslim states during the middle Ages. Under the Ayyubid sultanate, Mameluke generals used their power to establish a dynasty that ruled Egypt and Syria from 1250 to 1517. They managed to win the Battle of Ain Jalut, thus preventing the Mongols from occupying more lands. Overall, my translation is marked by both processes of domestication on the stylistic level, and foreignization on the cultural level. The source text may be found at: e=Sh3er&doWhat=shqas&qid=76853 Fabullus, you’ll dine well within a Week chez moi, gods willing, But make sure you bring a dinner Ample, tasty, filling. Also you’ll need to contribute Laughs (the lot!), salt wit and wine, A girl – mind! – radiantly cute. Bring these, my charmer, and you’ll dine Well, I say, because yours truly Has a purse that’s cobweb-packed, But you’ll be requited duly: Pure love’s my part in this compact, Or what’s even more becoming: For I’ll present you with a perfume Of a power suave and cunning, My sweet girl’s gift from love-gods, whom (Venuses, Cupids, such as those) You’ll petition to metamorphose You into nothing else but nose. Transfec According to St Jerome (mid fourth century to early fifth century CE) Gaius Valerius Catullus was born in Verona in 87 BCE and died at the age of 30 in 58–7 BCE. However, given internal evidence in the poems, this end-date cannot be right, so many scholars have brought the birth-year forward by three years and made it 84 BCE. At any rate, it is the tradition that Catullus died as a relatively young man. His father appears to have been on friendly terms with Julius Caesar, whom, however, Catullus was to lampoon in a number of poems, together with Pompey and their associates. Plutarch tells us that they were reconciled just before Catullus’s death, and this is borne out by Catullus’s reference to Caesar’s conquests in Poem XI. Catullus was a poet of great wit, power and range (both in theme and in meter). He wrote poems celebrating friendship, mourning his brother, attacking enemies quite viciously and scabrously, recounting Greek legends and expressing his love, at first tender, later bitter and tormented, for his faithless lover, Lesbia, who was probably—though this also is disputed—Clodia Metelli, the wife and later widow of the soldier and politician Metellus Celer. Poem XIII is both an expression of warm, relaxed, lighthearted affection for a friend, and also, it seems, a love-poem to Lesbia, who is not mentioned by name. Another attractive feature is the poet’s ability to laugh at himself (whether we should accept his protestations of penury at face value has been debated). The verse is also elegant and with its several slick elisions —the slurring of final syllables of words that end with a vowel or an –m before a following word that begins with a vowel— moves quickly and smoothly towards its conclusion. One has to be careful with this conclusion. Catullus’s invitation to Fabullus to imagine himself as nothing but a huge nose may come across as comic and grotesque—see below for the possible sexual interpretation—but I also tried to convey the lyricism. (Also, here’s a slight departure from the original. In this Fabullus will make his prayer to the gods in general; in my version he prays to the lovegods who had donated the perfume, although that was no doubt the implication Catullus intended.) Moreover, please note that “Venuses and Cupids” are to be conceived as a plurality of spirits, emanations from those two deities. There are parallels in some of his other poems such as III and LXXXVIII. Latin verse is based on quantity (length of syllable) rather than syllable-stress as in English. The verse form in the original is the hendecasyllable, which employs a combination of trochees (long – short), spondees (long – long), with the second foot being a dactyl (long – short – short). To use the same meter in English seemed unnatural and ineffective, so I decided to use short rhyming lines (four quatrains with a concluding tercet), stressbased, rather traditional in style but I hope not archaic. The meters I use are a combination of iambic and trochaic, with two or three dactyls (depending on how line 17 is analysed) thrown in. The number of feet per line varies between three and four. Some lines are catalectic, i.e. with an extra syllable tagged on to the end. This approach may strike some as technical inconsistency, even ineptitude, but I feel it lends my verse a certain unpredictability, which I find attractive. Anyway, in a world drowning in free verse, why should one worry about some slight metrical inconsistency, which at least offsets the rigidity of the rhyme scheme? This is as follows: ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH III. It should, hopefully, read like an extended Shakespearian sonnet, though with shorter lines. I like the concluding three rhymes, though some might find them clunky. It is all a matter of ear. Line 18 was inserted to make clear which gods were to be petitioned (see above). “Contribute,” ending line 5, may, according to the dictionary, receive its main stress either on the penultimate or ante-penultimate syllable. The latter, with a secondary stress on the final syllable, gives a smoother rhyme with “cute,” and that’s what I intended. As to the structure and interpretation of Catullus XIII, Helm (1981) finds it an example of humour para prosdokian (Greek), or “contrary to expectation.” There are three jokes: Catullus invites Fabullus to dinner ... but Fabullus must provide the dinner; Catullus’s purse is full ... of cobwebs; the exquisite perfume that Lesbia will provide will, if Fabullus’s prayers are granted, turn him into ... a huge nose! Is this invitation poem really a bona fide invitation or just a parody of a common classical sub-genre? Many scholars are confident in proposing the latter, e.g.: Transfec “It can be seen that the poem is only nominally addressed to Fabullus; in reality its central purpose is to compliment Lesbia” (Vessey, 1971). I am not so sure of this. The affectionate tone (and in many poems Catullus shows great affection to his friends) half-persuades me that Catullus is truly addressing him. The situation described is also not that far-fetched. As a modern analogy, I can imagine the modern equivalent of one friend inviting another round for a meal providing he/she stops off at a Chinese takeaway on the way. It happens! Next, I want to deal with the “revisionist” (term employed by Witke, 1980) sexual interpretation of this poem. Is the nose in fact a penis? Martin (1992) suggests this: “That transformation is explicitly an erotic one; part of the reason why the poem is so funny is that we recognize in the concentration of Fabullus’s sensuality into a single, enlarged organ, an erection of the nose.” Going along with this interpretation, if we may, for the time being, what excites the erection? Here is Littman’s (1977) suggestion: “I suggest that ‘unguentum’ refers to Lesbia’s vaginal secretions which sexual excitement causes to flow.” And: “The air of innocence now fades, and the poem becomes concrete, earthy and sensual, like many of Catullus’s other poems.” And again: “Whether or not the invitation to dinner is real, Catullus offers Fabullus Lesbia’s genitals to smell. This suggests that since Catullus offers her genitals, he offers the girl, ....” I find it quite easy to accept the association of nose with penis; it occurs in many cultures. Did Catullus intend it? Certainly, it may account for the discomfort we may feel, and Fabullus may have felt, although to be turned into a nose would in itself be sufficiently grotesque! It is, I think, a deniable interpretation. If questioned, Catullus might have said in response: “Oh, I just meant a nose, nothing else!” Nevertheless, whether we are Freudian or not, sex is a place our minds often go, and Catullus was clearly a highly-sexed young man. With regard to Littman’s thesis, it seems much less plausible. Witke advances several arguments against it. The most cogent of them is psychological: given the extremely jealous and possessive attitude Catullus shows towards Lesbia in other poems, Catullus is unlikely to have “offered” her to any of his friends. Another is cultural: the Romans found bodily effusions and secretions disgusting. Nevertheless, his mind may have gone there, whether as writer or as reader of his own poems. My use of the adjective “cunning” to describe the perfume’s power to insinuate itself insidiously into the brain may also have subconsciously reflected this association even before I had read of it. Think of the archaic obscenity “cunny” or the modern one that has replaced it. However, I do not wish to foist this rather Freudian reading onto you without mentioning that there are other interpretations. For example, Vessey (1977) proposes that the unguentum is both a physical perfume-ointment, a conventional contribution to Roman dinner-parties, and the ointment of Aphrodite, which confers kallos (beauty). Quinn (1973) says something similar, quoting Propertius 2.29.15–18: “a reference to the idea that a lovely woman, like a goddess, emitted a special characteristic fragrance, which was her aura; ….” In all events, the reader must beware of claiming to know Catullus’s mind. It is to some extent a mystery to us, as it may have been to him. It is quite possible that the poem is susceptible to different interpretations, equally valid if apparently contradictory. Catullus has loosed the perfume and the nose onto the world, and their significance is now beyond his control! Finally, let me express my own attitude to poetic translation as applied to this poem. Of course, the translator needs to engage with the original and wrestle meaning from the source poet’s words and phrases. But I think that there is a margin, narrow or broad, within which the translator can operate and express his or her creativity. This accounts for my deliberate mistranslation of paucis ... diebus (in a few days) as “within a / week,” which maintains the alliterated w’s and is not too far from the original. Also, the greater length of my translation, 19 lines as against 14. This is due partly to the looser structure of English compared to the highly compressed Latin, and partly to Transfec a certain joie de vivre, if I may say so, which reflects Catullus’s own. The relationship between translator and source poet is like that between dog and owner, out for a walk together: at times, the dog will pad along at the owner’s side; at other times, it will be off exploring on its own account until the owner calls it or pulls on the leash. This tension is in itself creative. The worst mistranslation is the one which may be faithful to the original but is bald, prosy and boring. Quinn, Kenneth. Catullus: The Poems. Edited with Introduction, Revised Text and Commentary. 2nd ed., Saint Martin's Press, Macmillan Education Ltd. 1973, text of Catullus XIII p. 9, commentary on XIII p. 135. Helm, James J. “Poetic Structure and Humor: Catullus 13.” The Classical World 74. No. 4. Dec 1980 – Jan 1981, pp. 213–17. http://www. Littman, Robert J. “The Unguent of Venus: Catullus 13.” Latomus, T. 36, Fasc.1 JANVIER – MARS 1977, Societé d’Études Latines de Bruxelles, pp. 123–28, Martin, Charles. Catullus. Hermes Books, Yale University Press, 1992, p. 135. Vessey, D.W.T.C. “Thoughts on Two Poems by Catullus: 13 and 30. Latomus, T.30.” Fasc.1 JANVIER – MARS 1971, Societé d’Études Latines de Bruxelles, pp. 45–55. Witke, Charles. “Catullus 13: A reexamination.” Classical Philology, vol. 75, no. 4, 1980, pp. 325–31. Ranald Barnicot lives in Watford, near London, England. He has a B.A. in Classics from Balliol College, Oxford University, and an M.A. in Applied Linguistics from Birkbeck College, London. He retired from a career as EFL/ESL teacher a year ago. He had worked in Spain, Portugal, Italy and the UK. He has published, or is due to publish in the near future, translations from Latin (Catullus, Horace), French (Verlaine, Mallarmé) and Portuguese (Soror Violante do Céu), together with original poems, in the following journals: Priapus, Acumen, Brooklyn Rail In Translation, The Rotary Dial, Sentinel, Ezra, Metamorphoses, The French Literary Review, Poetry Salzburg and Stand. Apart from the three languages mentioned above, he has also translated from the following: Ancient Greek, Spanish and Italian. In addition to Hence this cradle (Seismicity Editions, 2007), Ann Cefola’s translations of Hélène Sanguinetti’s work have appeared in journals such as eleven eleven, Exchanges, and Inventory. She has won a Witter Bynner Poetry Translation Residency and the Robert Penn Warren Award judged by John Ashbery. Her latest work is Free Ferry (Upper Hand Press, 2017). For more on Ann, visit Gregory Divers is Professor Emeritus of German at Saint Louis University. Patrick Donnelly is the author of four books of poetry: The Charge (Ausable Press, 2003, since 2009 part of Copper Canyon Press), Nocturnes of the Brothel of Ruin (Four Way Books, 2012), a 2013 finalist for the Lambda Literary Award, Jesus Said (a chapbook from Orison Books, 2017), and Little-Known Operas, forthcoming from Four Way Books in 2019. He is director of the Poetry Seminar at The Frost Place, Robert Frost’s old homestead in Franconia, NH, now a center for poetry and the arts. He is also a current associate editor of Poetry International, and teaches at Smith College. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in many journals, including The Kenyon Review Online, American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, The 74 Transfec Yale Review, and The Virginia Quarterly Review. His awards include a U.S./Japan Creative Artists Program Award, an Artist Fellowship from the Massachusetts Cultural Council, the Margaret Bridgman Fellowship in Poetry from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, and a 2018 Amy Clampitt Residency Award. Hager Ben Driss is Assistant Professor at the University of Tunis. She teaches Anglophone literature and her research addresses mainly gender and postcolonial studies. She is director of the research group Gender Studies (Laboratory of Philosophy, University of Tunis). She has published several articles on Tunisian and Arab literature as well as Anglophone literature. She is keen on working on the work of the late Tunisian poet Sghaier Ouled Ahmed and has published an article on his life and work in The Literary Encyclopedia. Ben Driss is the editor of Knowledge: Trans/Formations (Sahar, 2013) and Women, Violence, and Resistance (Arabesque, 2017). Roger Greenwald attended The City College of New York and the Poetry Project workshop at St. Mark’s Church In-theBowery, then completed graduate degrees at the University of Toronto. He has won two CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) Literary Awards (poetry and travel literature) and has published two books of poems: Connecting Flight and Slow Mountain Train. He has collaborated on translations from French and Italian, but most of his solo translations have been of Scandinavian poetry. North in the World: Selected Poems of Rolf Jacobsen won the Lewis Galantière Award (American Translators Association); Through Naked Branches: Selected Poems of Tarjei Vesaas was a finalist for the PEN Award for Poetry in Translation; and Guarding the Air: Selected Poems of Gunnar Harding won the Harold Morton Landon Translation Award (Academy of American Poets). He has also translated the novel A Story about Mr. Silberstein, by the well-known actor and writer Erland Josephson. Andrew Gudgel received a B.A. in Chinese from The Ohio State University and an M.A. in Liberal Arts from St. John’s College, Annapolis. He spent a decade-plus working for the U.S. government, mostly in U.S. embassies overseas, before becoming a freelance writer and translator. He is currently a graduate student at Johns Hopkins University. Carol Hayes is an ANU Distinguished Educator and an Associate Professor in Japanese language and Japanese studies and Associate Dean of Student Experience in the College of Asia and the Pacific at the Australian National University, Australia. She has a Ph.D. in modern Japanese literature from the University of Sydney. Her research focuses on modern and contemporary Japanese cultural studies, literature and film. Her current research focuses on Japanese women’s poetry, poetry of pilgrimage and Japan/Australia cultural relations over the last 100 years. Rina Kikuchi is an associate professor at Shiga University, Japan. She has a Ph.D. in contemporary Irish poetry from Chiba University, for which her study included a year of research at Trinity College, Dublin. At present, she is a visiting fellow at the Australian National University and University of Canberra, undertaking her research on modern and contemporary Japanese women’s poetry. Her bilingual anthology, Poet to Poet: Contemporary Women Poets from Japan was published in September 2017 by Recent Work Press (co-edited with poet Jen Crawford). She hosted a bilingual poetry reading at Poe try on the Move Festival 2017 in Canberra with a focus on Japanese women poets. Ann Lauinger’s two books of poetry are Against Butterflies (Little Red Tree Publishing, 2013) and Persuasions of Fall (University of Utah Press, 2004), winner of the Agha Shahid Ali Prize in Poetry. Her poems have appeared in anthologies, in journals including Angle, The Cumberland River Review, The Georgia Review, Parnassus, and The Southern Poetry Review, and on Poetry Daily and Verse Daily. A member of the literature faculty at Sarah Lawrence College and of the Slapering Hol Press Advisory Committee, she lives in Ossining, NY. Houssem Ben Lazreg is currently a Ph.D. candidate, a translator, and a teaching assistant of 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 76 Transfec 2010–2011. He holds a Master of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) from Nazareth College of Rochester. He has also taught Arabic and French at different American institutions such as West Virginia University and Indiana University in Bloomington. His latest publication is the English translation of two poems by the famous Tunisian poet Mohamed Sghaïer Ouled Ahmed. His research interests include politics and translation, Middle Eastern graphic novels, and Islamist militant movements. Stephen D. Miller, associate professor of Japanese language and literature at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, is author of The Wind from Vulture Peak: The Buddhification of Japanese Waka in the Heian Period (Cornell East Asia Series, 2013), which includes co-translations of Japanese Buddhist poems with Patrick Donnelly. The Vulture Peak translations were awarded the 2015-2016 Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission Prize for the Translation of Japanese Literature, from the Donald Keene Center of Japanese Culture at Columbia University. Miller is translator of A Pilgrim’s Guide to Forty-Six Temples (Weatherhill Inc., 1990), and editor of Partings at Dawn: An Anthology of Japanese Gay Literature (Gay Sunshine Press, 1996). Miller lived in Japan for nine years between 1980 and 1999, in part as the recipient of two Japan Foundation fellowships for research abroad. William Ruleman is Professor of English at Tennessee Wesleyan University. His most recent books include his translations of Hermann Hesse’s Early Poems (Cedar Springs Books, 2017) and of Stefan Zweig’s unfinished novel Clarissa (Ariadne Press, 2017). Nina Youkhanna is an independent scholar who recently acquired her M.A. from the Centre for Comparative Literature at the University of Toronto. She is a novice translator and a longtime lover of modern and post-modern Arabic poetry. Her academic interests are largely focused on Syrian theatre, particularly the satirical plays of Mohammad al-Maghut. She hopes to continue her academic career by pursuing a Ph.D. in the near future. This is her first published poetic translation. © Transference 2017 Cover: “Mask” by John Running-Johnson (; ) Globe image © Don Hammond/Design Pics/Corbis Department of World Languages and Literatures College of Arts and Sciences Western Michigan University 1. Pdf page 7 Suzanne Alaywan was born in PBoeeirmuttiitnle:1974 to a Lebanese father and an Iraqi mother . She graduated from theCAlumtteerriocafnWords Excerpts from The University of Cairo in 1997 with a degree in journalism and media. During the Lebanese war, she spent the majority of hAerrayboiuctShcbreipt wteCeonrrCeacirtioo,nPsa-ris and TrمaﻼnﻜsﻟاSfﺐepraﯿeﻛinاnﺮ.cﻛIenVaddition to writf al 2017 3 5 . Pdf page 44 Yoshihara, Sachiko. 無題 ("Untitled Nonsense") . Yoshihara Sachiko Zenshi , vol. 1 , Shichosha , 1981 , pp. 22 - 23 . --- . あのひと ("She") . Yoshihara Sachiko Zenshi , vol. 3 , Shichosha , 2012 , pp. 94 - 96 .

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