As this weekly translation experiment continues, mainly working with poetry, I'm beginning to want to experiment with the format of the translated text. I know that this will not always work--indeed some poems have a format for a specific reason--but I find that it is easier to convey the tone of the poem, the pauses and cadence, introduction of imagery, etc., when the lines in the translated text are separated differently from the original. I'm sure many other translators will understand my reasoning. Wilhelm von Humboldt, in his Introduction to His Translation of Agamemnon, (translated by Sharon Sloan), wrote that,
"It can be argued that the more a translation strives toward fidelity, the more it ultimately deviates from the original, for in attempting to imitate refined nuances and avoid simple generalities it can, in fact, only provide new and different nuances. Yet, this should not deter us from translating. On the contrary, translation, especially poetic translation, is one of the most necessary tasks of any literature, partly because it directs those who do not know another language to forms of art and human experience that would otherwise have remained totally unknown, but above all because it increases the expressivity and depth of meaning of one's own language."
(Emphasis mine. I'm having a hard time remembering which anthology I got this chapter from. Will update when I find it.)
I think this is where my earlier translation of Ki Hyongdo's "Contempt of Memories" went wrong and how I hope to repair it from here. Being so out of practice, I was too caught up on "fidelity" and less on conveying the feel, the meaning, of the poem. I think my translation of "A Dark Red Tomato" rectified this a bit but it is simply something that I will have to continue to work on.
그리워질 오늘
반갑다, 살았다는 것도 눈물나게 그리워질 오늘
Today, A Certain Loneliness
Hong Yeong-cheol
Here I am, on the street
It is perhaps from here that one can go practically anywhere
A Twilight
of unknown people brushing past to unknown places
I feel sick
outside of what is lived, every day is a day without significance
Suddenly out across the darkness, a single dim star shines
That light
It's almost insufficient, barely crossing the long distance between us
I'm happy to see you
Today, when the things I have lived through bring a tearful loneliness
Grammar Point
-어야만 한다: use of particle 만 to emphasize the have to pattern in -어야 하-, rendering absolutely has to, absolutely must. I.e., the have to/must pattern in –어야 한다 strengthened with 만.
Key Vocabulary
스치다: graze, brush, pass by;서로 살짝 닿으면서 지나가다.
저물녘: There isn't a complete definition of this word available on Naver Dict. The Korean definition is, "날이 저물 무렵," which basically signifies the end of the day as the sun goes down, twilight, "it gets dark."
불현듯: suddenly, all of a sudden; 어떤 행동을 갑작스럽게 하는 모양
쏟아지다: gush, pour, burst; 1. 액체나 물질이 그것이 들어 있는 용기에서 한꺼번에 바깥으로 나오다. 2. 눈물이나 땀, 피 따위가 한꺼번에 많이 흐르다. 3. 어떤 일이나 대상, 현상이 한꺼번에 많이 생기다.
희미하다: faint, indistinct, feeble, weak, dim;분명하지 못하고 어렴풋하다.
허위허위: [부사] There is no definition for this in the Eng. Naver Dict. The Korean definition is 1. 손발 따위를 이리저리 내두르는 모양. 2. 힘에 겨워 힘들어하는 모양. In this instance, I think the word is referring to 힘 'strength' being insufficient, i.e. definition 2,--> this would tie into 달려/달리다 [be insufficient , be not enough, running short].
달리다: 1. be insufficient, be in short supply, to not have enough, be short, be running short 2. (힘·능력 등이); 재물이나 기술, 힘 따위가 모자라다.
안기다: give, cause, charge; 1. ‘안다(1. 두 팔을 벌려 가슴 쪽으로 끌어당기거나 그렇게 하여 품 안에 있게 하다)’의 사동사. 2. ‘안다(4. 손해나 빚 또는 책임을 맡다)’의 사동사. 3. ‘안다(5. 새가 알을 까기 위하여 가슴이나 배 부분으로 알을 덮고 있다)’의 사동사.
그리워지다: long for, miss;그리운 마음이 생기다.
Translation Notes
- "모르는 사람들 모르는 곳으로 스쳐 지나가는" is the modifier of "저물녁," describing what type of twilight it is.
- The second to last line confused me to no end and I'm still unsure about it. Hong seems to be talking about how the light looks from far away, that it isn't very visible
- The hard thing about this poem, as with most Korean literature, is designating the subject, i.e. saying 'I' or 'It.' Like many language, Korean often has an implied subject that can be mentioned once and then remembered. The pronoun 'I' is only mentioned once in this poem but I felt that it was then sufficient to use 'I' from the beginning. My first draft had the first line as, "It's above the street, isn't it," but upon translating the full poem, I got the feeling that the subject is a person who is observing other people go home from work at the end of the day. I could be entirely wrong about this but I think the poem does flow with the inclusion of 'I.'
