Monday, November 23, 2020

Hugh Thomas :

folio : Paul Celan/100

 

Extract of “Sprachgitter” by Paul Celan is used under fair dealing in Canada, otherwise copyright S. Fischer Verlag, 1959.

 

Broken Silence

The eyes between the words,
a flimsy lid
starting to leak.
 

Shimmering dream of loss,
that's him. Hers will grow.

Find, in the iron dress
the black-eyed flower
that turns to the light.
 

(Where I like you.  Where you like me.
Why are we standing in this passage?
Worse than friends.)
 

Those fleeting.
Write it anew:
her grey lashes

too mindful of silence.

 

[This is a false translation of Celan’s poem “Sprachgitter”.]

 

 

SPRACHGITTER

Augenrund zwischen den Stäben.

Flimmertier Lid
rudert nach oben,
gibt einen Blick frei.
 

Iris, Schwimmerin, traumlos und trüb:
der Himmel, herzgrau, muß nah sein.

Schräg, in der eisernen Tülle,
der blakende Span.
Am Lichtsinn

errätst du die Seele.

(Wär ich wie du. Wärst du wie ich.
Standen wir nicht
unter einem Passat?

Wir sind Fremde.)

Die Fliesen. Darauf,
dicht beieinander, die beiden
herzgrauen Lachen:

zwei
Mundvoll Schweigen.
 

I have been cautious about engaging with Celan’s work. On the whole, I tend to engage with poetry which, by its nature, does not expect or seek to be taken completely seriously. (And, perhaps especially today, I think there could be serious reasons for poetry not to seek or expect to be taken seriously!) Celan, on the other hand, seems like someone whom one has to take seriously, if one is going to read him at all.

However, on a particular occasion, this poem spoke to me as a poem which I could and ought to translate, so I did. I employed some version of false translation, taking a combination of actual meanings of words with meanings suggested by sounds or my faulty knowledge of German.

I don’t think of my translation as a commentary on Celan except in that, when considering a great work of art, zooming in on some minor feature or perhaps even unintended detail can still be interesting, and can still somehow carry some of the weight of the whole work – weight which might be unbearable if confronted in any more direct fashion.

 

 

 

Hugh Thomas is a poet and translator living in Montréal, where he teaches mathematics at UQAM. His first solo book of poetry, Maze, was published by Invisible Publishing in spring 2019.

Previous publications:
books

Maze
, Invisible Publishing, 2019
Franzlations (with Gary Barwin and Craig Conley), New Star, 2011
 

recent-ish chapbooks
Eleven Elleve Alive
(with Stuart Ross and Dag Straumsvåg), shreeking violet, 2018
Six Swedish Poets
, above/ground, 2015
Albanian Suite
, above/ground 2014
Opening the Dictionary
, above/ground 2011.

 

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