Journal of Italian Translation

Book Reviews 297
more obscure terms like “caique” and “meltemi” (for “caicco” and
“meltemi,” respectively) in his poem “Mikonos,” rather than opting for
more accessible, if not less accurate, terminologies for the corresponding
boat and wind. In the same poem, he also recognizes the limits of the
translator as he avoids a rendition of “lagartiglie”; instead, he shifts the
untranslatable modulation of “lizards” into the adjective, opting for
“brownish” in place of ‘brown’ for “brune.” In “Morte di cane” (“Dog’s
Death”), though “whimsy” is not a direct equivalent of “allegria,” Molino
elects the word so that it will form an alliteration with “war” to mirror
that found in Mariani’s “allegria e guerra.” But this attention, even fidelity,
to detail is quite irregularly applied.
One drawback of Molino’s translations figures as the general drawback
of all translators. At times, reticent to reduce their own value, translators
highlight themselves instead of the original writer’s intent. That is,
if the equivalence of the languages facilitates the translation as a natural,
logical transfer from original to target, a translator almost feels obligated
to impede that flow; even when a perfectly good equivalent exists a variant
will be chosen. In one case, perhaps Molino does it for the sake of
euphony or realism, rendering the ‘I’ in “e io là nello stesso abbandono /
del cane grattato” with the ‘me’ in “and me, mellow as a dog / whose
back has been stroked.” He renders “platano” first as “sycamore” in
“Vienna 29 febbraio” and then as merely “tree” in “Faire part.” Why use
two options, none of which is the plane-tree? One might question the failure
to include an equivalent of “magistero” in the line “per magistero
naturale” from “Odisseide”; in the English, this expression becomes “by
its very nature.” Why not include an approximation of “magistero?” Why
insist on “brier” for “tralcio” in “L’eternità” when Molino had proven his
mettle with more difficult vocabulary? This may be all well and good, but
in other cases, avoiding the direct equivalent changes the meaning, causing
the reader to miss a potential thematic connection. When, in “Lettera”
(“Letter”), Molino translates the “songino” as “blackberry” instead of as
the valerian plant, or the setwall, he was not simply replacing the name of
a plant which would have seemed obscure to English speakers with a
more well-known one. For in the same poem the “tiglio” (linden tree)
appears four lines later. The fact that both plants are known for their causing
sleepiness is missed because the first term was changed to a different
plant, and the linden tree was altogether changed to simply “berries” – an
aspect of many a non-specific plant. Again, in “Miele” (“Honey”), Molino
inexplicably avoids an ‘easy’ equivalent. For “sciarra ignobile” he writes
“muck and mayhem.” Nothing of the moist, organic nature of muck is
found in “sciarra” (admittedly, an uncommon term, but one for which
“mayhem” seemed appropriate enough). Yet, many of these examples can
be understandable, for often as a translator works his craft, a new work
emerges. There must have been something in the integral text that allowed
for this insight in Molino’s interpretation/translation. What is less excus-