Author’s note: I recognize that it certainly feels presumptuous to offer a theory of translation as an inexperienced undergraduate, but I feel that it is important to clarify the reasoning and intentionality behind my choices in the way I translate and the way I present my translations. I hope the tone of this piece doesn’t fall too far on the side of audacity, but every piece I’ve read on the subject takes a very declarative tact, so that is the voice that feels correct to me. Thanks!
It is easy for translation to reinforce flawed perceptions of language. My idealistic goal in translating is to interact with language as it is, not as it is thought to be.
The concept of languages as distinct and defined entities is useful, but upon close examination, easily begins to break down. Under this framework, we are left with a mess of awkward edge cases and blurry lines: dialects, pidgins, loan words, etc. The model survives because it is simple and practical, and because it is intrinsically tied to the world-dominating artificial division of the nation-state.
Translation fits neatly within this world of perfect edges and straight lines as the process of moving a text from one language’s box to the box of another. However, this is no solid foundation to build upon. Just as the typical language paradigm cracks under pressure, the translation paradigm based on it runs head-first into the fundamental issue of untranslatability. The translator finds to their horror that when moving a text-object from one box to another, they inevitably end up with a wholly different object in their hands. If the goal is to produce the same text in a different language, the dogged translator will always fail because, simply but truly, different languages are different.
How then, can we reshape our conception of language to better facilitate productive and successful translation? If we attempt to work with language as it truly exists, in all of its composite and complex glory, how can we produce anything practical without getting lost in the endless specificities of the ways humans communicate with each other? By shrinking the scope of the task until it is within the realm of possibility, we can redefine success and realistically pursue it.
First, let us remove the burden of perfect and complete translation. Many ideas and even etymologies of translation conceptualize it as a transportation or a transformation. Both of these presume the destruction of the source text in a sense. Translation, however, doesn’t have to be either. Translation can instead be an addition, a process that does not alter, obscure, or kill the original text in the original language, but lives alongside it as an extension of its being. In practical terms, I believe that every translation, if feasible, should be presented side by side with the source text. Logistically, this is particularly possible with something like translating Spanish poetry into English. The line, or verso, provides an easy unit of division to pair together in both languages, and the linguistic and historical closeness of Spanish and English means that this is generally a helpful pairing for a wide audience.
The kind of translation I am advocating for uses specificity in purpose and audience to bring the lofty goal of translating a text within reach. For example, with the romances moriscos, I am specifically translating for those whose understanding of Spanish is not strong enough to fully grasp the meaning of the poem, but whose English is. I am not attempting to capture the entire essence of the poem and every facet which makes it beautiful, interesting, and worth reading. I don’t have to, because it’s right there on the left. This is the advantage of translation as addition. I can focus solely on clarifying the meaning of the lines without detracting from clarity by pursuing rhythm or rhyme. Not because these are not important components of the original poem, but because they are, and in these aspects the original poem can and should speak for itself. Almost anyone who speaks English can pronounce Spanish. The alphabets are highly similar and Spanish is a consistently pronounced language. Even if someone only understands a few words of Spanish, they can still understand what a Spanish poem sounds like, which in my opinion is the aspect which makes them feel most alive.
This combats the distinct language paradigm by acknowledging the reality of multilingualism and the ways that languages bleed into each other. “Speaking” a language is not a binary characteristic that a reader either possesses or does not, and languages do not have hard edges. When a translator can take advantage of these realities, they should.
Of course, not every language is as predisposed to this kind of translation as English and Spanish are, and not every text has a delineation like the lines of a poem to put side by side in an intuitive manner. I believe, however, that with innovative ways of presenting texts, especially by making use of the flexibility that modern technology provides, languages with less cultural-linguistic overlap can be translated in a similar manner. As my understanding of Arabic improves, I aspire to apply this theory in that language as well, which will definitely present a challenge.
I hope this has been able to clarify my decisions in my translations and enhance the experience of reading them. Thank you for reading!