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In the pages that follow I have tried to fix on paper the stages of an
elusive process: the translation of an Italian text into English. For the
operation I have chosen also an elusive author, Carlo Emilio Gadda,
partly because his work is not well known to English-language readers,
but mostly because he is an author I am particularly fond of and enjoy
translating. I have settled on the first paragraph of Notte di luna, the
opening chapter (or story, as Gadda would have us believe) in the
volume LAdalgisa, originally published in 1944. I have used the
Einaudi edition of 1963.
I need hardly say that the description that follows is partial, perhaps
even somewhat misleading, because I have tried to make conscious
and logical something that is, most of the time, unconconscious,
instinctive. Faced with a choice between perhaps and maybe, the
translator does not put the words on trial and engage attorneys to
defend and accuse. Most probably, he hears the words in some corner
of his mind, and likes the sound of one better than the other. Of
course, his decision is only apparently instinctive. His instinct will be
guided by his knowledge of the authors work, by his reading in the
period. It will almost certainly not be guided by any rules, even selfmade ones. On Thursday, translating Moravia, he may write maybe,
and on Friday, translating Manzoni, he may write perhaps.
Because there are no rules, no laws, there cannot be an absolute right
or an absolute wrong. There can be errors (and even the most
experienced translator has an occasional mishap); there can be lapses
in tone. The worst mistake a translator can commit is to reassure
and
no
one
will
block/impede/hinder
it.
Because
words
(sudore,
lavoro,
etc.)
and
more
exotic
words
(zaffiro,
congegni
as
machinery,
avoiding
the
dictionary
which seems to have more resonance. But then I omit the plural of
atti. Why? It is hard to explain, but partly because I dislike two plurals
in a row, and instruments has to remain plural. I have also added
the word other. Is this exegesis? I hope not. The more literal first
translation sounds gibberish-y.
Next sentence. Another problem of plural. Ori. This is common Italian
usage, often meaning something like jewelry or treasure. The
successful show of Scythian gold was called in Italy, Gli ori degli sciti,
Ibelieve. A husband will jokingly refer to his wifes jewelry as her ori.
But this will not work in English, will it? We use the plural only in
discussing painting (The reds and golds in Beato Angelico), if then.
Other solution: add something like streaks. Streaks of gold
retains the plural; but no, too banal. But perhaps the uno before
sapphire could be translated as one, instead of being an indefinite
article. Uno/a is often a problem in this sense. Ill try it: it may give
the sentence a boost.
Then distant gold and one sapphire, in the sky: like lashes quivering
above a compassionate glance.
I discard the more literal trembling, in favor of the less violent
quivering. And I decide on compassionate rather than merciful,
which, for me, is somehow too physical (perhaps I am influenced by
my memory of the Corporal Works of Mercy, which I had to learn by
heart in the second grade). Charitable will not do, because we have
charity two sentences later.
Quello beginning the next sentence, can be troublesome. In English,
we dont like to begin sentences with a relative pronoun. Here the
poseremo (of which sguardo is the object, and to which quello refers)
is a pre-echo of the final word of the paragraph, riposare. This
assonance will almost surely be lost in English.
Third sentence. then: The one which, if we cast it, will still remain
vigilant.
In the end I decided that Quello che has to be The one which or
That one which. I hate cast for posare, but what can I do? In
English we cast a glance; the Italians set a glance. I decided, too,
that the verb vigilare was best turned into a predicate and adjective.
But, in a further revision, I may change my mind.
Battiti is tough. Heartbeats are called battiti in Italian, but Gadda
obviously wants the word also to suggest the banging and pounding of
the work site. Pounding will not do, because the poundings of life
sounds like grievous bodily harm. Throbbing and pulse or
pulsation rob the sentence of the work-site echo. The sembra isalso
awkward, coming in the middle of the sentence and rerouting its
meaning. In a normal English sentence, the It seems would come at
the beginning, and the sentence would flow smoothly, if boringly,
thereafter.
Heres a stab at the sentence: The beating of life, it seems, can be
swept away by a sudden alarm as if in a headlong dash.
I know, beating could raise the same objection as pounding, but
with luck it may still suggest heartbeat to the reader, and it retains
the sense of work at the site. The it seems separated necessarily by
commas is a somewhat stronger interruption than the sembra in
Italian, but I think it can stay. AndI had to add sudden to alarm
for sgomento, partly because the word alarm by itself is weak, and
also because it could be mistaken for alarm signal or even for the
work sites siren. I like headlong, which gives the sense of speed
and confusion. In the Italian, corsa (race or, here, dash) preechoes corso inthe next sentence. I cannot think of any way to avoid
the loss here.
Next sentence: The charity of the evening has cleansed us: and we
move toward someone waiting, that our future may take its course,
and no one shall hinder it.
In the first part of the sentence, I reject, of course, the passive. After
the colon, I have to shift the Italian word order. Toward someone
waiting we move sounds poetical in the bad sense. Ventura is another
word I prefer not to encounter. It means fortune, in the sense of
soldier of fortune (soldato di ventura), or good luck (sventura is
bad luck). But fortune seems too ambiguous in English, and
destiny or fate or even lot would be too pretentious and
perhaps also too specific.
The meaning of the final sentence, is easy enough to understand. It is,
more or less: Because we will later be able to rest. But in the Italian
it has an almost biblical ring, and the trick is to exalt the sentence
without losing its simplicity, without making it pompous.
I will use the conjunction for instead of because. It has, I believe,
a King James version sound. I am tempted to use shall find rest or
something of the sort, but then I decide it is too risky, too obvious a
reference to the Beatitudes. In the end, perhaps simplicity is the best
course, as it so often is.
I would say then: For afterwards we can rest.
One bad loss here: the future tense of avremo. But we shall rest has
a tinge of pompousness.
Now lets put all the sentences together:
No, no idea brings relief to the labor of the work sites, as the sibilant
instruments of action transform things into other things, and the toil is full
of sweat and dirt. Then distant gold and a sapphire, in the sky: like lashes
quivering above a compassionate glance. The glance which, if we cast it,
will remain watchful. The beat of life, it seems, can be swept away by a
shock, as if in a headlong dash. The charity of the evening has cleansed
us: and we move toward the place where someone is waiting, that our
future may unfold, and no one shall hinder it. For afterwards we can rest.
note
that
the
above
excerpt
is
for
on-line
consultation
only
artwork
2000-2010
by
2000-2010
William
G.
Weaver
&
&
F.
EJGS
Pedriali
framed image: Tullio Pericoli, Secondary Literature, 1982, by kind permission of Prestel
Verlag
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