Autumn 2013

often deserved much better. Unfortunately,
very few people seem to understand the
great weight of responsibility borne by
translators – an author’s international
reputation rises and falls with the quality of
the translations of his or her work.
Shortly after returning home to Estonia
from London, I received the Poetry Library’s
monthly newsletter with its list of upcoming
competitions. I was pleased to see that the
Manchester Poetry Prize accepted translations
– very rare indeed for poetry prizes in
the English-speaking world – and I suggested
to Kristiina that we should enter a few of
her poems. I wrote to the organisers to
clarify a procedural point in the rules and
was informed that the translations had to be
done by the author. Now, I know many
poets who have an admirable command of
English as a second language (Kristiina
included), but I have yet to meet one able to
translate his or her own work without
substantial help. The absurdity of this rule,
the utter lack of understanding of the
translation process and indeed belittling of
the translator’s art (for it is an art) by the
organizers of such a prestigious poetry prize
is quite frankly staggering.
Unfortunately, lack of understanding
extends to many translators as well. Some
years ago I took part in an event organised
for literary translators and was truly disheartened
by all the talk of commissions –
among my colleagues at the event this was
by far the most common motivation for
translating an author’s work. It seemed I was
in a rather small minority who chose to
translate a particular writer’s work simply
because we felt an inner need to do so.
Some fundamental questions were
answered on that day. It is often said that
literature in translation doesn’t sell. We have
all at times got dreadfully bogged down
trying to read translations that sound like
translations. But what else can we expect if
the translator doesn’t share the author’s
passion, if the motivation for translating a
poem, a story or a novel does not differ
significantly from that for translating a
business letter, academic paper or
technical report? I must admit that I have
also been guilty of translating a few poems
that I didn’t like. Several years ago an
editor friend was desperate for a translator
and I reluctantly agreed to do the work. I
am deeply ashamed of having done so and
will never do anything like that again. Every
author deserves a translator who is
passionate about translating the author’s
work. A good translation is an expression of
love for the original piece. It is the product
of a spiritual kinship between author and
translator.
There are many different approaches to
translation. Ideally, a translation is done by
someone who is bilingual, with creative
literary abilities and a deep inner desire to
introduce the work of a writer to a wider
audience. In the real world however, in
dealing with the rich and varied literature of
a country as small as Estonia, this
combination of qualities is extremely rare
and very little Estonian literature would be
translated if we dogmatically held to that
principle.
The renowned English poet Ted
Hughes championed translation from literal
English versions and in his case this
resulted in marvellous poems, but I am not
sure that many of them are good translations,
for the simple reason that Hughes’s
own powerful voice resounds throughout.
They are therefore not the author’s poems,
and isn’t that the point of translation – to
recreate the author’s poem, story or novel,
with its own particular music and nuances,
in another language? How can it be the
author’s work if the translator only has the
words to go by and hence can’t hear, and
therefore can’t recreate the author’s voice?
The result may be a very fine work of
literature, but it probably isn’t a good
translation. This approach to translation
has been taken by some translators of
Estonian poetry with varying degrees of
success as regards fidelity to the original.
The increasingly common distinction made