“When I work, I'm just translating the world around me in what seems to be straightforward terms. For my readers, this is sometimes a vision that's not familiar. But I'm not trying to manipulate reality. This is just what I see and hear.” Don DeLillo
sâmbătă, 16 aprilie 2016
don delillo
"You want to lose yourself in language, become a carrier or messenger. The best moments involve a loss of control. It's a kind of rapture."
Shadows Jesting (in memory of our master, W.S.)
As we were walking one behind the other,
once upon a late night in April,
I fancied that your shadow,
side-swerving,
had sought the solace of my shoulder.
So I turned my head and extended an arm,
that you rejected dignified…
Yet onward we journeyed, a trifle
sadder though, our shadows entwined.
It was late upon an April night
and still we hoped to reach out far.
Ada Carol
luni, 11 aprilie 2016
RUNNING WATER
The following two poems are part
of a literary odyssey that has been running alongside my swerving life-path, at
a rather troublesome time.
RUNNING WATER*
--------------
*HAS NO MEMORY
NB. This poem is dedicated to the Dâmboviţa River,
our Romanian Thames
I am no longer trickling up the wall!
Seeping in the dark, bubbling in the sun,
I am still striving to fill up my course.
So I keep running with no solid memory on my shores
except for a faint foreignizing whistleblow.
Within immemorial distance from my source
I am confined to leaking through the pipelines
where I unravel my feelings up to bursting
point.
Letting these loose, I solidify into hopes, and
rage, and remorse
but never regret my aching ripples.
(Having no body I cherish the traces of pain
Inflicted upon my reflection at which I smile so
often.)
I wish now I were a drop in this quivering turbid
pond!
At least its borders recall how grassy roots used to
tickle its insole
while my waves travel constantly to their underneath
repose.
How can I grow old when I have no regrets?
Still there is memory in the great outside
(I believe in my heart that roots may still breathe
from underneath a concrete layer). So here I am:
my face a blank stare colored with clouds and
creased by sparrows,
blushing at sunset and turning purple with the
stars,
floating ever so stealthily and filled with
resilience
in my watery bed.
Fishermen love me for the silvery cues I provide
and sing to me daily whirring their rods with knotty
fingers
while I undo my wishbones.
As the noon sinks its rays vertically into my chest
I feel like leaping towards the riverbanks to
unfurl
mermaid-like tresses for the occasional pedestrian.
I am most resigned by early morning, when ink-blue
shades
dip their mysteries into my foam.
Then I receive any stranger coyly, with a smug
assent.
I could spell the names of all those whose image I
embraced,
were I not sworn to silence by my own
monolithic passage.
I don’t overindulge in personal thoughts
(these here express a mere fad once upon an afternoon)
So I wish you well, my enemy’s children,
and may you delight
in my restlessness forevermore!
Your
sweet-watered foe
Published in The Grove literary magazine, in
2013 (back cover)
HOW MY RUNNING BEGAN
One missing figment of the old patchwork
is the sprawling walnut tree in my grandparents’
courtyard
(a smell of moist soil and iodine is forever attached in
my mind
to the barking of
their yellow anemone-like dog).
This great old bark which could transport me to the stars
was once beheaded and laid thundering upon the tiles
(the night before, its lamed trunk had groaned so
for one final embrace in the moonlight).
Even now I still yearn – running – for thin green palms
extending their bounty to us one last autumn.
Since then my soil was regularly uprooted
and the doors of childhood unhinged.
There were always cracks and bursts eating at the walls
yet I never left the rustling premises
(like a brown leaf stuck to the eaves)
and my grief kept dripping into Poplars’ Well.
Thus I survived through adolescence,
eating away at remaining splinters,
in times immemorial) through which I funnelled
ever so ravenously, feeling for the light.
Published
in Contemporary Literary Horizon,
2013.
Academic Translation as Cultural Challenge
ACADEMIC TRANSLATION AS CULTURAL CHALLENGE: PETRU
COMARNESCU’S CONTRIBUTION TO EUGENE O’NEILL’S RECEPTION IN ROMANIA
ADRIANA-CAROLINA
BULZ
Academia Tehnică
Militară, Bucureşti
Abstract: In the context of the Romanian-American
cultural exchanges taking place in the period between the two world wars,
translation from American literature was initiated so as to bring prestige to
the vernacular language and also to increase the quality standards of our
national literature. In the early 1940s, Petru Comarnescu took up the difficult
task of translating Eugene O’Neill’s dramatic masterpieces in the attempt to
establish a viable connection with the playwright’s universe, one that would
benefit both intellectuals and their respective countries. As their correspondence
stands proof, O’Neill was extremely pleased with Comarnescu’s critical insights
into his work and trusted him with the title of sole translator and
representative of his work in Romania, in other words he made our critic his Romanian
cultural agent. While the translating act in general implies the effort of
finding the ‘equivalence’ of meaning sustained by a ‘correspondence’ of form,
in the case of drama this effort of rendering meaning and form is far more
complex, since the translated text equally has to fit the staging requirements.
However, Comarnescu was the perfect embodiment of the ‘academic translator’, an
intellectual whose background knowledge of the works he is translating
recommends him for a special relationship with the text and with its author.
His versions are generally more literary and complex, avoiding the regime of
adaptation that other translators used for their stage-oriented versions -
where such parallel versions do exist, I will discuss them by comparison with
Comarnescu’s efforts, in a stereoscopical manner. I will mainly focus on the
Romanian critic’s translation of O’Neill’s monumental plays, Mourning
Becomes Electra and Strange
Interlude, and then briefly discuss
his renderings of several one-act plays that are crucial for O’Neill’s dramatic
concept: Bound East for Cardiff, The Moon of the Carribbees and
Before Breakfast. In doing so, I
intend to stress upon the cultural challenge of translation that Comarnescu took
up in earnest, completing his task with deep affinity and respect for the
source culture.
Keywords: academic and stage translation, cultural
dialogue, equivalence, correspondence.
According to
George Steiner, “translation is, and always will be, the mode of thought and
understanding” (1991: 264). In his insightful study, After Babel, Steiner provides the link between reading and
translating as modes of understanding and links the translator’s interpretive
abilities to those of the critic, actor, editor or reader because “all
processes of expressive articulation and interpretative reception are
translational” (Steiner 1991: 294). Thus, even a producer’s choice of
performing a play in a certain key represents an act of “practical criticism”
or “interpretative transfer” of the text’s meaning by the engagement of one’s
identity in a communicative process with the work (Steiner 1991: 28-29). And,
as all forms of communication, translation can be subject to failure or
generate misunderstanding, since “every interlingual transfer is ruled by a
principle of indeterminacy” (Steiner 1991: 310). On the other hand, Paul
Ricoeur believes that the pleasure of translation consists in the hospitability
of language and the acknowledgement of the dialogical nature of the translating
process (Ricoeur 2005: 74) - a difficult transition because of the double
resistance of both source and target language (Ricoeur 2005: 71). The metaphor
of “playing host to” and “being hosted by” another language implies the
generous and constructive reciprocity of a give-and-take process, meant to
bridge (and not to efface) the incommensurability of linguistic difference. One
can also speculate that the appearance of translations from another language
indicates political and spiritual affinities with the respective culture that
open up the possibility of a mutually benefitting dialogue.
Starting with Ioan Heliade Rădulescu’s
timid attempts, translation into Romanian was considered a creative act, the
distinction being made between translation (“traduceri”) and adaptation
(“tălmăciri”). Initially, most translations were done from or through the
French language, much of the criticism of world literature originating with
this same language. As Mihail Sebastian noted in a 1940 article, “A Note on
Translations”, literature is a communication of a spiritual nature and cannot
be translated (or staged, in the case of drama) without knowledge of the
cultural context defining it. This knowledge implies preserving the internal
link with the original and it requires the translator to give “a serious battle
with expression, which demands vigilance, good taste, an instinct for language,
and a feeling for nuances” (Sebastian in Perry 2001: 168).
In the context of the Romanian-American
cultural exchanges taking place in the period between the two world wars,
translation from American literature was initiated so as to bring prestige to
the vernacular language and also to increase the quality standards of our
national literature. This explains why the translating choice was sometimes
made after a very selective process. Yet, as Sebastian informs us, even when
the translation was of poor quality (as initially most translations from
English were), the work selected was a valuable one, meant to forward the
ongoing literary debates and to fuel the already existing cultural claims. The
first Romanian translators from English focused on Harriet Beecher Stowe and
Benjamin Franklin, followed by the works of Poe and the Transcendentalists,
such translations being done mostly by members of the 1948 Generation, who
militated for our synchronization with Western culture. The role of the Romanian mindset (Perry’s phrase)
operating on these works was to extend and refine some of their meanings, as
well as to make the works themselves better known, introducing them into the
Romanian canon of world literature. As an integral part of this process, the
reception of American literature played a crucial role in inspiring Romanian
literary creation and supporting the political aspiration towards ‘a greater
Romania’.
Translation theorists seem to agree that
literary translation always implies cultural issues, since “not only do
cultures express ideas differently, but they also generate concepts and texts
in a different way” (Bantaş and Croitoru 1999: 19, my translation). And the
negotiation of these differences, Paul Ricoeur points out, requires
intercultural translators, i.e. cultural bilinguals able to accompany the
transfer of the text to the other cultural universe, while fully respecting its
landmarks (Ricoeur 2005: 49). The dynamics of translation, therefore, has to
account for the norms, culture, setting and traditions of the source and target
languages, brought by the original writer and by the new readership, while the
stake in translation is the negotiation of a cultural equivalent, i.e. an
approximate translation of a source language cultural world into a target
language cultural word (Newmark 1995: 82). [1]
Regarding the concept of equivalence,
one can speak of dynamic equivalence (an equivalence of effect) and formal
equivalence (an equivalence of message, both as form and content). According to
Umberto Eco, the principle of equal reference could be violated for the sake of
“a deeply equivalent translation” (2003:
41) – and, consequently, I will pay particular attention to the cases of
denotative deviation that are nonetheless a means to achieving cultural
correspondence. In her study on Translation:
The Interpretive Model, Marianne Lederer discusses more extensively the
notion of equivalence, making it the basis of her recommended approach to
literary translation, termed “interpretive translation”. The idea of equivalence (i.e. the faithful rendering
of the sense) is opposed to correspondence
(i.e. the word for word translation). In Lederer’s opinion, the overuse of
correspondences makes for a bad translation, while equivalence itself is “an
original correspondence and the general mode of translation” (2002: 45).[2]
In my assessment of the Romanian
translations from O’Neill’s works, I will employ Lederer’s notion of
“interpretive equivalence” to investigate the textual version in terms of the
areas of difficulty identified by Leon Leviţchi: denotation, emphasis,
modality, connotation, coherence, and style. Regarding the last aspect – style
– I am using Leviţchi’s definition: “the style is the specific way in which the
author has organized his message, as regards coherence and expression, with a
view to maximum valorization in the conscience of the presumptive receiver”
(Leviţchi 1975: 219, my transl.).[3]
I also agree with Leviţchi that the
translator has to be able to transpose himself, through empathy, into the
writer’s psychology and that he should “be equally capable of linguistic
empathy, of immersion in the style of the author, character and epoch”
(Leviţchi 1975: 223, my transl.). Successful immersion is, nevertheless,
inconceivable without a pre-existing common background of experience or, as
Leviţchi notes, “our own experience teaches us the premises of linguistic
empathy” (Leviţchi 1975: 223, my transl.). Ultimately, translating a literary
author is understood as a matter of “elective affinity” – meaning that one
should translate only what one feels a calling to translate. In this respect,
Petru Comarnescu’s renderings are particularly fortunate examples, although not
devoid of failings.
One can say that the transatlantic
connections functioned well enough as regards the Romanian literary translations
from O’Neill’s drama. Starting from the late thirties, Petru Comarnescu took on
and successfully concluded some of the most difficult of these translation
tasks – commencing with Strange Interlude
in 1939, followed by Mourning Becomes
Electra in 1943 (which he accomplished together with Margareta Sterian). In
1946, he collaborated with Ruxandra Oteteleşanu and Mihail Ranciu for the
translation of a volume entitled Dramele
Mării şi ale Pământului and in 1946, he published the translation of Drame
din Marea Dragoste. When analyzing Petru Comarnescu’s translations from
O’Neill’s drama one must take into account the complexity of his cultural
endeavor, which spanned more than three decades. His translations of O’Neill’s
works were published in 1968, at the Editura pentru Literatură Universală, in a
three-volume edition. Comarnescu translated for this edition several of
O’Neill’s plays – especially the early plays and the most ambitious modernistic
projects – Electra’s trilogy and the
monumental Strange Interlude.
Moreover, Comarnescu wrote the critical introduction for this edition, a
comprehensive study entitled “Coordonatele creaţiei lui Eugene O’Neill”
(“The Landmarks of Eugene O’Neil’s Creation”). Therefore, the Romanian critic and translator had all the necessary competence to achieve a successful translation, finding himself in the position of a cultural bilingual whose previous knowledge of the background of the work and his former acquaintance with the author recommended him as O’Neill’s most dedicated Romanian supporter. In fact, Comarnescu “discovered” O’Neill in the thirties, after his direct experience of American culture, and since then he labored constantly to bring the playwright’s works to the attention of the Romanian literary and theatrical environment.
(“The Landmarks of Eugene O’Neil’s Creation”). Therefore, the Romanian critic and translator had all the necessary competence to achieve a successful translation, finding himself in the position of a cultural bilingual whose previous knowledge of the background of the work and his former acquaintance with the author recommended him as O’Neill’s most dedicated Romanian supporter. In fact, Comarnescu “discovered” O’Neill in the thirties, after his direct experience of American culture, and since then he labored constantly to bring the playwright’s works to the attention of the Romanian literary and theatrical environment.
Comarnescu’s drama translations are more
of a literary nature, the critic being concerned to mediate the reception of
the American playwright to a wider Romanian audience and thinking less about
their suitability for performance. His work can be regarded as a generous
contribution to the dialogue between the American and Romanian cultures, as
well as an instance of academic translation, a situation in which the
translator has the extraordinary privilege of translating works of a literary
figure towards whom he feels a particular affinity and with whom he can also
communicate:
Academics-cum-translators
can also be more selective; can choose authors of substance with whom they feel
a genuine rapport. And if one is fortunate enough to find an author of stature,
there is nothing more satisfying than staying with the same author and
deepening one’s knowledge of a special voice with each new assignment. One can
enter into fruitful correspondence, which leads to privileged collaboration
(Pontiero 1992: 304).
While this situation creates certain
favorable premises, the translator must also be a vigilant and imaginative
reader, striving to preserve and transmit “the deep humanity between the verbal
utterances” (Pontiero 1992: 306) as well as to achieve an empathetic immersion
in style of the author. This action involves the ability of crossing the
cultural and stylistic barriers posed by the source text, in the attempt of
making it more palatable to the target language audience.
Since I have previously discussed Comarnescu’s
translation of Desire under the Elms,[4] in
the present paper I shall focus on O’Neill’s novelistic plays – Strange Interlude and Mourning Becomes Electra, as well as on
several of his one act plays that were translated into Romanian.
Comarnescu’s translation of Strange
Interlude is a highly accurate one, which respects the rythm and stylistic
matrix of the original text, with only few denotation errors. The translation
is faithful to the original, respecting the fluency of the monologues, the
propriety of the terms that point towards philosophical notions and preserving
the distinction between the accoustic masks of inner thought and outer speech
of the characters. Therefore,
semantic and stylistic equivalence is
generally succesfully achieved, with only minor exceptions.
An example of felicitous translation is the key phrase “un interludiu al acestor întrebări delicate” (O’Neill Teatru II, 1968: 10) for “it is the interlude that gently questions” (O’Neill The Plays II, 1982: 5), a case in which
the only syntactic difference is the subtle and effective transformation of a
verb into noun. As for the few misfires, Comarnescu translates dim by ‘înnegrise’ and aggressively by ‘arțăgoasă’, as seen in examples 1 and 2 below:
1. „how dim his face has grown” (1982: 5) à „cum i se înnegrise faţa” (1968:
10)
2. „so aggressively his wife” (1982: 5) à „ce femeie arţăgoasă” (1968: 10)
In both cases, the choice of the underlined words is infelicitous, since it
modifies the subtext significantly: in example 1, dim is meant to connote distance from the paternal figure (loss and
regret rather than revulsion) and in the second one aggressively speaks about the engulfing force of feminity that is a
hallmark of the main character and is meant as a clue that shouldn’t be lost in
translation.
As for the ending of this novel-play, whose rythm is never felt sagging in
Comarnescu’s translation, it can be said that the Romanian version captures the
full poetry and irony of the life force embodied in its characters. Except for
a minor but significant omission of an adverb from Nina’s discourse (example
3), the text is highly coherent and Mardsen’s final lines are extremely well
rendered (example 4):
3. „I’m so contentedly weary with
life!” (O’Neill The Plays II, 1982: 200)
à „Sunt atât de obosită de viață!” (O’Neill Teatru II, 1968:189). In this case, the
omitted adverb might have been incorporated through the following phrase: „Sunt
sătulă de cât am trăit”, or it could be introduced as a paranthetical
indication: „cu mulţumire, „cu un oftat satisfăcut” etc.
4. „God bless dear old Charlie...who, passed beyond desire, has all the
luck at last!” (O’Neill The Plays II,
1982: 200) à „Dumnezeu să-l binecuvânteze pe dragul și bătrânul
Charlie...care după ce a trecut dincolo de orice dorință, are în sfârșit noroc
cu nemiluita!” (O’Neill Teatru II, 1968:
189)
As a text composed mostly of short lines of dialogue and long monologues, Strange Interlude requires the
translator to alternate between the brisk tones of everyday speech and the
pensive, tortuous line of thinking. The translation undertaken by Comarnescu in
the forties meets the literary challenge of the text and can still be safely
regarded as a playable text, if its demands could still be statisfied by
Romanian directors. Moreover, Pentru Comarnescu had a special relationship with
this text, that helped him pass through a most difficult moment in his personal
life – the divorce from his wife, Gina – this novellistic drama seeming to
share certain characteristics with the Romanian critic’s misfortunes, as his
journal indicates:
In these
terrible times for me, so as not to go mad, I translated at the most difficult
moments O’Neill’s The Strange Interlude,
in which I found so many situations similar to those I was going through,
although infinitely less infamous, and yet with similar complications
(Comarnescu, Jurnal Vol. 1, 2003:
154, my translation).
Like the American playwright, similarly
given to understanding the diversity of the world though traveling, the
Romanian critic notes that his life is marked by a “dualism of joys and
sorrows, of pleasures and ill fortune” and asserts his belief in destiny, which
he identifies in one of his diary entries as “a metaphysical reason”, noticing
that his “existence is determined by an irrational play of contrary forces”
(Comarnescu, Jurnal Vol. 1, 2003:
193, my transl.), a phrase that is reminiscent of Nina Leeds musings on the
nature of fate. However, Comarnescu believed in the human personality defined
by an “active and rational life, through harmony, measure, balance, tireless
aspiration towards perfection” (Vasile Morar in Cristea, 2003: 264, my
translation). For him, the work of art was a search for goodness as the
ultimate purpose in life and it is on this basis that his understanding of
O’Neill’s characters lies:
he suggests that
there is a constant in individual and societal life, that requires, ultimately,
for the authentic human development to be accomplished through the fusion of
the moral substance with the aesthetic phenomenon (Vasile Morar in Cristea,
2003: 264, my transl.).
The Romanian version of O’Neill’s trilogy, Mourning Becomes Electra is the result of a close collaboration
between Petru Comarnescu and Margareta Sterian, who both translated the play in
the early forties. Apparently, Sterian’s version had preceded Comarnescu’s,
hers being accomplished in 1939 at the request of Camil Petrescu - the first
National Theater Director to consider staging the trilogy, under the title of Familia Mannon (The Mannons). On the
other hand, Petru Comarnescu published a version signed only by himself in
1943, at the Socec Publishing House, and he co-authored with Sterian a second
edition (published at Pro Pace, in 1945). While there is no big difference
between the two versions, the latter is more complete and polished and
therefore more literary, while the differences are minor ones in fact. As
specified in the 1943 edition, the great performances given by the National
Theater team in Bucharest in the early forties were based on the Socec text.
But the question remains: how much had Sterian contributed to the final version,
given that both translators agreed to co-sign the 1945 text? Could it be that,
in order to obtain the publication rights back in 1943, only Petru Comarnescu
could appear as the translator of the trilogy? In a letter addressed to the
Romanian critic, Eugene O’Neill seems quite hostile towards Sterian’s
undertaking, being disturbed by the fact that she had attempted the translation
without his permission. Also, given the Jewish origins of the Romanian painter,
she might not have been able to sign the translation published in 1943 even if
she had so intended. Therefore, it is possible that a great part of the
trilogy’s text was in fact translated by Sterian, who might have also
contributed the catchy metaphoric title, thereby offering a felicitous equivalent
to the English original – Din Jale se
întrupează Electra. Besides the final title, there existed two other
versions: Jalea devine Electra
(Comarnescu’s early suggestion, an obvious misfire in terms of denotation) and Jalea îi stă bine Electrei (an alternative
accurate translation by Margareta Sterian, which is, however, rather verbose
for a title). The 1945 edition of the text was reprinted by Comarnescu
in 1968, in the collected works of the third volume of the collection Eugene O’Neill - Teatru.
Given the fact that the translation is the result of a collaboration
between two intellectuals who were dedicated to examining and conveying the
meanings of American civilization, the resulting text is remarkably faitful to
the original, with only minor failings. Besides a few colloquialism improperly
translated or simply sidetraked, the Romanian text is fully domesticated
without departing from the original meanings and formal conception of the
dialogue (semantic and syntactic equivalence is carefully preserved). The
Romanian tongue in which it was written is naturally sounding, with literary
resonances pointing towards the tradition of great tragedy. For instance,
Lavinia’s exasperated cry from the last act, “Always the dead between! It’s no good trying any more” (O’Neill Teatru II, 1968: 177), could have been
rendered neutrally as “Întotdeauna intervin morţii! Nu are rost să mă mai zbat”
but instead it is translated more emphatically as “Mereu reapar morţii! Zadarnică, orice încercare” (Din Jale,1943: 232). Even though the
translation pattern by inversion recalls the lines of classical tragedy, adding
majesty and emphasis to the statement, it would be hardly suitable in a modern
staging of the play, which demonstrates the necesity of a new translation of
the text.
All through the trilogy, the translators prove their ability in finding
equivalent expressions for the original exclamations (i.e. “He’s able, Ezra is!” is rendered by “Un om şi jumătate!”), with only rare denotation errors (nervous transalted as ‘nervos’ instead of ‘agitat’),
unnecessary additions to the text (the phrase describing Christine, Furrin’ looking and queer is
overtranslated as ‘Are o înfăţişare străină ciudată. Mereu încruntată şi
supărată’) and occasionally strangely unfelicitous attempts at finding an
equivalent familiar phrase (i.e. Orin’s childhood nickname for Lavinia – you old bossy fuss-buzzer – is rendered
as ‘boţ cu ochii înlăcrimaţi’ in the 1943 version and as ‘obstrucţionisto’ in the 1945 text - sic!). An interesting
improvement on the original text could be considered the translation of Seth’s
final assent to Lavinia’s orders (his last two Ayeh-s) as ‘S-a făcut’, so that the concluding word of the trilogy
imparts a sense of destiny accomplished, of justice being done (as in the
Romanian equivalent phrase ‘s-a făcut dreptate’).
By comparsion to the latter version, the former one is lacking certain local
references (the Western Ocean or West Point are not translated),
indicating that for an early Romanian audience these details of American
geography were less relevant. One may notice minor changes to the better that
make the 1945 version stylistically superior to the 1943 one. For instance, the
syntagm this damned town (1982: 175)
was initially rendered as ‘oraşul acesta aiurea’
and later on as ‘oraşul acesta blestemat’.
Also, Lavinia’s indication – Close the shutters and nail them tight (1982: 178) was initially translated as ‘Închide obloanele şi bate-le cu piroane să nu se mai
deschidă’ while later the last part of the sentence was replaced by the more
accurate and concise ‘bate-le bine în cuie’. To conclude, the final version of
the trilogy, reprinted in 1968, constitutes a captivating reading and a
possible point of departure for a new staging that would require, of course, a
careful updating of the text.[5]
A less demanding but not insignifiant task, Petru Comarnescu’s version of Bound East for Cardiff is a combination
of normalizing translation (the various speech types – Irish, Scandinavian,
Russian – are rendered in plain Romanian and solecisms are eliminated, see ex.
5 below) and foreignzing (several idioms are rendered word-for-word, ignoring
the connotations, see ex. 7, 11, 14). Occasionally, equivalent phrases are
found to replace the original colloquialisms (ex. 2, 3). For instance, the
meaning of “rake” is far from “crai”, but
only for the irony implied by the Romanian equivalent; sometimes the reverse
happens, the term “skypilots” being an ironic designation for what Comarnescu
translates more neutrally as “feţe bisericeşti”.
There are several instances of undertranslation (ex. 9, 13), which decrease the
poetic suggestiveness of the text but increase its literariness, purging it of
colloquiallisms and jargon. Besides, Comarnescu makes several denotative
errors, which could easily be ammended by a careful pruning of the script and
by confronting it with the original. These could have occured because of lack
of knowledge regarding the original phrase’s connotation, such as blighter - translated wrongly as ‘căpcăun’ (instead of ‘nătâng’, ‘gafeur’ or ‘încurcă-lume’);
but for him =/= ‘pentru el’ (instead of ‘dacă nu era el’); divil may care
(adj.) =/= ‘lua-ar dracu’ (instead of ‘nepăsător’, ‘dur’, ‘dintr-o bucată).
There also occur several instances when the rythm is felt to be sagging,
because of translitteration (i.e. word-for-word translation) or to
overtranslation. Usually, however, the meanings are faithfully rendered even if
the original intention is sometimes replaced by an equivalent one, with a
similar emotional load. To complement
the discussion of the text, Mihnea Gheorghiu’s excerpts from Orientări în literatură and Alcalay and
Zamfir’s version of 1957 are useful resources for possible new stage
adaptations of the play. In the following lines I have atempted a comparison
between the existing Romanian versions of this play, in an assessment mode called
stereoscopics (i.e. presenting the
existing translated versions side by side and making comparisons between them
and with the original).[6]
Sometimes, Gheorghiu’s less polished version comes closer to the original stylistically speaking although I believe his excessive swearing style is not always appropriate: thus, the interjection Gawd blimey! (O’Neill Plays I, 1988: 490) is translated as ‘Paștele mă-sii’ (Gheorghiu Orientări,1958: 378) in an attempt to approximate the sailor’s vocabulary with that of factory workers, while the other two versions communicate meekness, resignation or lack of vitality: ‘Doamne, iartă-ne’ (Comarnescu 65)/ ‘Doamne, iartă-mă!’ (Alcalay and Zamfir 67). The original exclamation, on the other hand, represents an expression of awe and distress, somewhat less vulgar and more idiomatic, which could have been more properly rendered by ‘Ei, drăcie!’ or ‘Ferească Sfântul!’.
Regarding the overall achievement of Comarnescu and that of the team
Alcalay - Zamfir, there occur regrettable dennotation errors to which the
translators are ocasionally pushed by the original’s ambiguity and informality.
Thus, for instance, a blooming nigger
(‘o afurisită de negresă’) is rendered as ‘o negresă ca o floare’ by Comarnescu and as ‘un boboc de negresă’ by the other translators, while the
simile trying to look as wise as an owl
on a tree (O’Neill Complete Plays I, 1988: 479) is translitterated
by Comarnescu as ‘făcând pe deşteptu’ ca o bufniţă-n copac’ - which sounds
foreignizing and inappropriate coming from a sailor, while Alcalay and Zamfir
use an equivalent idom that doesn’t misfire: ‘se holba ca o bufniţă şi făcea pe deşteptu’’. Another phrase that repeatedly confuses the translators is but for him, from the line: and many’s the toime I’d been on a beach or
worse, but for him (O’Neill Complete
Plays I, 1988: 480, emphasis mine).
The translators believed that the content of the undelined words refered to an
idiom meaning to have a hard time,
while they were obviously ignorant of the exception introduced by the adverb but and mistakenly translated the unit
with a meaning of purpose:
à Comarnescu: “şi adeseori rămâneam
pe geantă pentru el” (56, sic!);
à Alcalay and Zamfir: “şi nu o dată am tras mâţa de coadă pentru el” (58,
sic!).
On the whole, Alcalay and Zamfir prove the ability to be more concise,
which is a virtue in terms of stage translation, while Comarnescu’s version is
more faithful to the original and ocasionally overtranslated, as befits a
literary translation (see examples 1 and 2, below). Despite these tendencies,
it can’t be stated of Comarescu’s translation that it lacks a feel for idioms
(ex. 3), while Alcalay and Zamfir sometimes chose to express themselves in less
appropriate naturalistic overtones (ex. 4):
1. “Blarsted fatheads” (478) à “Belstemaţilor! Capete de lemn!” (Comarnescu 54)/ “Dobitocii dracului” (Alcalay and Zamfir 57)
2. “a spindle-shanked gray wiskered old fool” (479) à “un bătrân bezmetic ca acest căpitan cu picioare ca niste fuse şi favoriţi
cărunţi” (Comarnescu 55)/ “bătrânu’ ăsta nebun şi mustăcios, cu picioroange de
cocostârc.” (Alcalay and Zamfir 58).
3. “’Twas a Christmas dinner she had her eyes on” (478)à “Pusese ochii pe tine
ca să aibă cu ce se ospăta la masa de Crăciun” (Comarnescu 54 -
felicitously rendered)/ “Să ştii că umbla sărăcuţa după o friptură pentru masa
de Crăciun!” (Alcalay and Zamfir 57 - overtranslated).
4. “His breath was chocking in his throat” (478) à “Răsuflarea i se îneacă în gât” (Comarnescu 55)/ “Îi horcăie beregata”
(Alcalay and Zamfir 57).
In Comarnescu’s version (maybe less that in Alcalay and Zamfir’s
translation), the accoustic masks of the characters are less individualized,
due to his purging the text of untranslatable colloquialisms and dialects,
leaving it to the cast to bring their particular talents to the dramatic
enrichment of the parts, a feature which was felicitously exploited in the
radio versions of the play (which, unfortunately, was never staged in Romania).
In his translation of The Moon of the Carribees (Luna Caraibilor), Comarnescu
generally finds satisfactory equivalents for the informal address and the
idioms used by the sailors (shrimp = ‘prăpădit’; runt
= ‘stârpitură’; squint-eyed
= ‘cu ochi zbanghii’ etc.). The
few instances of overtranslation do not interfere too much with the syntactic
pattern of the lines, and sometimes creative ways of obtaining equivalence are
found (e.g. dhrink rendered
diminutively as ‘băuturică’), while the presence of colloquialisms
triggers fewer denotation errors than in other translations (e.g. Tis them right enough! becomes ‘Sunt destule
pentru noi!’). A normalizing and communicative translation, this version
preserves the acoustic masks of the characters as well as the vocal energy of
the text, as proven by the succesful
radio performances of the play.[7]
Another text that was successfully transposed as a radio play,[8]
Comarnescu’s translation of Before
Breakfast (Înaintea gustării de dimineaţă) reads almost as easily and is as
engaging as the original text, demonstrating our critic’s gift for capturing
the rythms of dramatic language. His transposition is therefore a successful
one, with only minor mistakes regarding connotation (ex. 1), while the rythm
and original syntax of the phrases are carefully preserved (ex. 2). The
informal speech is also successfully rendered, while the acoustic mask of the
only speaking character, Mrs. Rowland, stays faithful to the original (ex. 3):
1. “to make a beast of yourself” (O’Neill Complete Plays I, 1988: 628)
à “să te porţi ca o bestie” (Comarnescu, O’Neill - Teatru I,1968: 72)
2. “It’s been nothing but pawn, pawn, pawn with you” (1988: 627)à “Ai ţinut-o una şi bună – să amanetezi, să amanetezi” (1968:
71)
3. “This Helen must be a fine one” (1988: 633)à “Helen asta trebuie să fie o poamă bună” (1968: 76)
As further proof of the continuing validity of Comarnescu’s translation of
this play, there also stand the recent performances of the play discussed above,
after the year 2000. [9]
Besides the translation of Desire under the Elms, which was not the object of this paper, and
yet constitutes one of his greatests acheivements, Comarnescu also translated a
few other plays by O’Neill that are less known and were never staged in
Romania, such as Ah, Wilderness! and Days without End. These texts remain interesting
as reading material yet reflect concerns that are mostly outdated for the
contemporary audience. However,
reading them alongside other texts from our dramatic literature of those times,
one can see how they contributed to sustaining our own playwrights’ efforts.
Therefore, Comarnescu’s overall translation achievement remains one of the most
impressive contributions a literary critic could bring in order to further the
knowledge of a foreign playwright in his own country.
REFERENCES
Primary Sources
Comarnescu, P. (2003) Pagini de Jurnal. Vol I-III. Bucureşti: Ed. Noul Orfeu.
---., Ed. (1968.) O’Neill - Teatru, Vol. 1-3. Bucureşti: Editura pentru literatură universală.
O’Neill, E. (1988) Complete Plays (Volumes I-III). New York: The Library of America.
---. (1982) The Plays of Eugene O’Neill (Volumes I-III). New York: Random
House,.
---. (1943)
Din Jale se
întrupează Electra (Trans. Petru Comarnescu).
Bucureşti: Ed. Socec&Co.
---. (1945) Din Jale se-ntrupează
Electra. (Trans. Petru Comarnescu, Margareta Sterian). Bucureşti: Ed. Pro
Pace.
---. (1946) Dramele Mării şi ale
Pământului (Ed. Petru Comarnescu). Bucureşti: Ed. Fundaţiilor Regale.
---. (1947) Drame din Marea Dragoste.
(Ed. Petru Comarnescu). Bucureşti: Ed. Casa Şcoalelor.
---. (1957) Teatru. 4 piese întrun
act (Trans. Alex Alcalay, Sima Zamfir). Bucureşti: Fondul literar al
Scriitorilor din R.P.R., Serviciul Drepturi de autor.
Secondary Sources
Bantaş, A., Croitoru, E. (1999) Didactica traducerii. Bucureşti: Teora.
Cristea, M. (2003) Petru Comarnescu
– Un călător al solitudinii. Bucureşti: Ed. Eminescu.
Eco, U. (2003) Mouse or Rat? Translation as Negotiation. London: Weinfeld and
Nicolson.
Gaddis, R. M. (1997) Translation and Literary Criticism.
Translation as Analysis. Manchester, U.K.: St. Jerome Publishing.
Gheorghiu, M. (1958) Orientări în Literatura Străină.
Bucureşti: Editura de Stat pentru Literatură şi Artă.
Johnston, D. (1996) Stages of Translation. (Ed. David
Johnston). Bath: Absolute Press.
Landers, Clifford E. (2001) Literary Translation. A Practical Guide.
Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.
Lederer, M. (2002) Translation: The Interpretive Model. St. Jerome Publishing.
Levitzchi, L. (1975) Îndrumar pentru traducătorii din limba
engleză în limba română. Bucureşti: Editura Ştiinţifică şi enciclopedică.
Newmark, Peter. (1995) A Textbook of Translation. Prentice Hall.
Pavis, P. (1982) Languages of the Stage. Essays in the Semiology of the Theatre. New
York: Performing Arts Journal Publications.
Perry, Th. (2001) Passage to Romania: American Literature in Romania. Iaşi: The
Centre for Romanian Studies.
Pontiero, G. (1992) The Task of the
Literary Translator. In Dollerup and Lindegaard (Eds.) Teaching Translation and Interpreting (pp. 299-306), Amsterdam:
John Benjamins Publishing.
Ricoeur, P. (2005)
Despre
traducere (Magda Jeanrenaud, Trans.). Bucureşti:
Polirom. (Original work published 2004)
Steiner, G. (1991) After Babel. Cambridge: Cambridge U.P.
[1] Since the meaning of many words is determined by their
collocations, which are culture-specific, Newmark recommends that cultural
expressions should be clarified by equivalents or paraphrasing (especially in
drama that doesn’t allow footnotes).
[2] Following Koller, Lederer also offers an extremely
useful scheme for evaluating equivalence in literary texts: denotative
equivalence (information about the extralinguisitc reality), connotative
equivalence (respecting the style of the original, i.e. the language register,
sociolect etc.), normative equivalence (conforming with the genre), pragmatic
equivalence (adapted to the reader’s knowledge), and formal-aesthetic
equivalence (an equivalence of effect).
[3] A sound analysis of the literary qualities of a
translation will have to rely therefore on the previous analysis of the
stylistic properties of the source text.
[4] I have delivered a paper on the topic at the conference
Translation, Semiotics, Anthropology: Transferring
Space and Identity across Languages. The paper was entitled “Desire under the Elms: Translation for the Stage by Horia Popescu
based on Petru Comarnescu’s Textual Version” (Spiru Haret University International Conference, Bucharest, 2011).
[5] A possible suggestion in
this respect is provided by Mihnea Gheorghiu’s convincing translation of a
sample of dialogue from this play, appearing in his 1958 critical study on
O’Neill from Orientări în literatura
străină, pp. 383-384.
[6] See Marianne Lederer’s volume, Translation: The Interpretive Model. The author treats the
translator as an interpreter of the text.
[8] Adriana Trandafir offered a thrilling performance of
this part in the radio adaptation by Leonard Popovici in 1993.
[9] Staged by Crenguţa Ţolea in a coupé show with Aurel
Palade’s version of Hughie and
presented during the Eugene O’Neill Symposium in 2003 at the National Theater
in Bucharest. Beforehand, the play had benefitted from almost no professional
staging – although there had been two previous successful “readings” of this
dramatic text: Cristi Puiu’s movie of 1995 (awarded a prize at the Lucarna Film
Festival) and Radu Apostol’s staging at The
Cassandra Studio in 2000. The play was more recently staged in 2008, at Palatul
Copiilor in Bucharest, for a limited audience attending a presentation on
O’Neill organized by The DIALLOG Cultural Associatio
SOURCE: “Academic Translation as Cultural Challenge: Petru Comarnescu’s Contribution to Eugene O’Neill’s Reception in Romania.” Annales Universitatis Apulensis, Seria Philologica 15/2014.
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