Sublimity through Language in Poetry by Pablo Neruda

Rebekah Covey 124007776 [email protected] Kallendorf ENGL 353 Spring 2015

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Introduction: Across different languages, meaning can easily be lost in translation. When looking at languages, especially when one is not a master in that language, chronology, grammar, and even logical phrases can be misinterpreted or lost. For example, idioms are not easily translated, especially for non-native speakers. In Spanish, the phrase “echar agua al mar” is literally translated to mean “to throw water into the sea”; however, in context it means that something is pointless. When thinking about this, when something is poorly translated, will there still be a similar effect on the reader’s emotions and attitudes of the work? Longinus believed that sublimity was an important part of speaking effectively, especially for an audience. Sublimity can be defined as the effect you get as a reader when you experience ecstasy. According to Longinus, there are five ways to achieve this sublimity– two natural and three artistic: conceiving great thoughts, experiencing awesome emotion, figures of speech, noble words and diction, and word arrangement. With this in mind, is it possible for sublimity to remain across translation by examining even just a few of these ways? By focusing on two poems by Pablo Neruda, the idea of sublimity across translation will be discussed further. Through the analysis of figurative language and grammar of two translations of the poems “Si Tu Me Olvidas” and “La Palabra” by Pablo Neruda, the idea of sublimity cannot be well translated unless it is properly done.

“Si Tu Me Olvidas”:

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The first poem that will be analyzed is “Si Tu Me Olvidas”. The title is translated to mean, “If You Forget Me”. The two translations that will be used to determine the sublimity of the poem will be by Pablo Neruda himself and a self-translated version by WordPress blogger Ochoa Pérez Isaac. The best way to approach this analysis will be through the side-by-side comparisons of the translations compared to the original Spanish one.1 The first two stanzas of each translation are different in their word choice. For example, in the translation by Isaac, the line “Tú sabes cómo es esto” (3) is translated to say, “You know what it is like” (2); while Neruda translates it to say “You know how this is” (3). In both scenarios, there is a different meaning being brought to the table by changing one word (the word being how and what). Another important thing to note is that Isaac changes the way that the poem is organized. For example, in line 3, rather than skipping to the next line after the colon, Isaac goes on to begin the next few words; while Neruda does skip the line, following the original formatting of the Spanish poem. As the poem continues, there are still great changes in a lot of the words used between the two translators. The descriptive language is the exact same in lines 5, but in line 6 it starts changing. In the original poem, the line is “del lento otoño en mi ventana / si toco / junto al fuego” (6-8). Neruda translates these lines to say, “of the slow autumn at my window, / if I touch / near the fire” (6-9) while Isaac translates these to mean, “of the quiet autumn [through] my window / if I touch you / by the fire”. There are several things wrong with this line, outside of the differences in word choice. First, the word “lento” means slow, while Isaac translates it to mean quiet; however, this is not correct. There is 1

For your convenience I’ve included a copy of each poem, translated and original. 3

the possibility that the translator picked up the context of quiet from the meaning of the poem, yet even Neruda uses the translation of slow rather than quiet. Another change in word choice is the use of the word “through” instead of “at” in line 6, “en mi ventana” (translated to say “in my window”). In the fifth stanza of the poem, Neruda establishes a metaphor: “Si consideras largo y loco / el viento de banderas / que pasa por mi vida / y te decides / a dejarme a la orilla / del corazón en que tengo raíces, / piensa / que en esa día, / a esa hora / levantaré los brazos / y saldrán mis raíces / a buscar otra tierra” (23-34). The narrator is saying that if the woman (whomever she may be) gets tired of their love and decides to leave him at the shore of where he is rooted into her heart, then he will release himself from that heart and leave to find someone else to re-root himself to (love someone else). In Neruda’s translation of this stanza, I find it to be the most effective in establishing the metaphor in English. Although, it is difficult to translate such an abstract thought from one language into another, I believe that Neruda does a good job of it, through the use of frequent pausing and word choice: “and you decide / to leave me at the shore / of the heart where I have roots, / remember / that on that day, / at that hour, / I shall lift my arms / and my roots will set off / to seek another land” (26-34). The pausing between words creates a more dramatic effect, which is what the original poem does in Spanish, and the use of the English words helps to establish this effect. For example, piensa means, “you think”, but Neruda uses the word “remember”, which in Spanish would be “recordar”. I believe that the use of remember in place of think has a much greater effect on the audience and it also helps the reader understand a subtlety that they may not get when reading a translated version of the poem. In Spanish, many words can 4

be used in place of another so one meaning can have several different meanings, similar to a pun. Neruda makes good use of this subtlety in the Spanish version and does a good job of translating that over to English. In Isaac’s translation, the metaphor isn’t as effective due to mistakes in grammar, spelling, organization, and word choice. This stanza is organized in lines 20-30, already showing a difference in organization of the lines and pauses. In lines 21 and 22, the word “waving” and “through” are spelled incorrectly making it difficult to stay in state of imagery that the original poet intended to have. Furthermore, the pauses are still different, making the emphasis of the important words– such as, “remember”, “roots”, “arms”, and so on– almost irrelevant to the metaphor Neruda is trying to implement. Looking at the differences between the translations help to understand if there is an effect of sublimity in the poems in English. I believe that in the Spanish version, Neruda accomplishes what Longinus believed made writing sublime– he had a great idea, he used figurative language, has noble diction, and beautifully arranged the words in a way that allows for a certain emotion to be evoked. In Neruda’s translation, he accomplishes the same effect in English by keeping these same ideals through the translation. However, in Isaac’s translation, there is a lack of a few of these ideals; although Neruda had the great thought, the idea was not properly executed through the translation, the figurative language was interpreted incorrectly, and the word arrangement took away the dramatic and production of strong emotion for the reader.

“La Palabra”: The second poem that will be analyzed is “La Palabra”. The title is translated to mean, “The Word”. The analysis of figurative language and grammar will help to 5

determine a better idea of sublimity across translations. The first translation is by Alastair Reid and the second translation is by Stephen Mitchell. The same approach will be taken with these poem translations as the other poem. The first line of the poem is “Nació” which means, “to be born” in the preterite tense; however, in each of the translations, rather than saying “born”, they start differently: Mitchell says, “The word was born”, while Reid says, “The word” only. Both of these first lines are different than the original Spanish poem. The reason behind this could be adding context or better organization for non-native speakers to understand what the subject of the poem is, but it could also take away from the original effect that Neruda intended for the audience. In the first stanza, Neruda introduces a metaphor about the word: “Nació / la palabra en la sangre, / creció en el cuerpo oscuro, palpitando, / y voló con los labios y la boca” (1-4). A basic translation is that the word is born inside something similar to a womb, covered in blood, but it comes out of your mouth between your lips, rather than the way a baby is birthed. In Reid’s version it begins, “The word / was born in the blood, / grew in the dark body, beating, / and took flight through the lips and the mouth” (1-4). In Mitchell’s version it begins, “The word was born / in the blood, / it grew in the dark body, pulsing, / and took flight with the lips and mouth” (1-4). The organization of the words is what stands out at first to the reader, but upon further examination, the way the metaphor is executed is also different. In Reid’s translation, it executes the metaphor most effectively, using a translation most similar to Neruda’s Spanish version; while Mitchell’s translation, it does not effectively push the metaphor as well because of organization of the lines (lines 1 and 2) and the phrasing, “took flight with the lips and 6

mouth”. It’s hard to visualize an image of a word taking off with words and lips, rather than going through them into the word. It’s simply not as effective. In the fourth stanza of the poem, Neruda continues this metaphor in talking about how the word is born and how it lives as the first word. He begins the stanza, “Aún la atmósfera teimbla / con la primera palabra / elaborada / con pánico y gemido. / Salió / de las tinieblas / y hasta ahora no hay trueno / que truene aún con su ferretería” (18-25). This is roughly translated to say, “The atmosphere trembled with the first word, produced with panic and moaning. It leaves the darkness and even at this hour there is no thunder that thunders even with the ironworks.” This rough translation obviously does not have the intended effect that Neruda wanted for the audience, but Mitchell does a good job of keeping that effect. Although in Mitchell’s translation, this part starts on the third stanza instead of the fourth, the execution of word choice and arrangement (in terms of pauses) allows the intended effect to stay in tact. He begins the stanza, “Still the atmosphere trembles / with he first word / produced / with panic and groaning. / It emerged from the darkness / and even now there is no thunder / that thunders with the iron sound” (18-25). The way that this translation is written follows the exact arrangement that the Spanish version had. Mitchell also kept the word choices very similar to the proper translation. As stated before, some words have multiple meanings. For example, the word “salío” is the preterite form of the word salir, which means to leave. However, Mitchell uses the word emerge instead of leaving– to emerge from the darkness sounds much more dramatic and forceful than to say to leave from the darkness.

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In Reid’s translation, he also begins this part on the third stanza instead of the fourth. Although the arrangement of the words for emphasis is the same, the word choice is much different than in Mitchell’s version. He begins the stanza, “Still the atmosphere quivers / with the first word uttered / dressed up / in terror and sighing. / It emerged / from the darkness / and until now there is no thunder / that ever rumbles with the iron voice” (18-25). The words “quivers”, “uttered”, “dressed”, “terror”, and “sighing” create an entirely different tone. Rather than keeping a dramatic tone, these words create a more calming effect. Rather than being produced with panic and groaning, the word is dressed up in terror in sighing– giving the reader the idea that because it’s dressed up, it must not be a permanent quality. Furthermore, lines 24 and 25 takes away the hard “d” sound that Mitchell’s translation had. In the Spanish version, there is a hard “t” sound that can sound similar to the hard “d” sound, implying a thunderous effect on the reader. Because of this removal of this thunderous sound, it completely takes away from the intended metaphor that Neruda originally wanted. As stated in the previous section, looking at the differences between the translations help to understand if there is an effect of sublimity in the poems in English. Even in the Spanish poem, Neruda still accomplishes the ways to achieve sublimity, as suggested by Longinus. In Mitchell’s translation, he accomplishes the same effect in English by keeping these same ideals through the translation. However, in Reid’s translation, there is a lack of a few of these ideals; although Neruda had the great thought, the idea was not properly executed through the translation due to the choice in words and an overall softening of the tone.

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Both native speakers and non-native speakers are seen translating each of the poems presented. Even as someone who is familiar with the Spanish language, it seems as though the effectiveness of translation is not that great unless directly translated from the poet himself. Seeing Neruda’s translation and analyzing it side-by-side with a native speaker allows a distinction in the context and interpretation that each person has towards a piece of art. It’s easy to assume that the poet will have the best translation of their own poem because they know the true meaning behind what they are trying to say; however, if they have poor English skills, the same message may not come across properly (although this is not seen with Neruda’s translation). The same idea applies to native-speakers. In Spanish, the poem could make perfect sense; however, translating it to English with less than perfect skills can easily alter the original meaning of the poem. Overall, it is not easy to translate sublimity from one language to another, regardless of how good a translator is. Figurative language alone is difficult to get across in two separate languages, therefore, when the author makes subtle hints in their native language it can make it that much more difficult to understand for someone who is not a native speaker. Personally, I believe that Neruda achieves sublimity in his poems in Spanish alone; however, when reading and analyzing the translations, that same feeling of sublimity is hard to see, especially through the difference in word choice, interpretation of metaphors and other figures of speech, and even the chronology and organization of phrases and words throughout the poems.

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Poems SI TÚ ME OLVIDAS (Original) QUIERO que sepas una cosa. Tú sabes cómo es esto: si miro la luna de cristal, la rama roja del lento otoño en mi ventana, si toco junto al fuego la impalpable ceniza o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña, todo me lleva a ti, como si todo lo que existe, aromas, luz, metales, fueran pequeños barcos que navegan hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan. Ahora bien, si poco a poco dejas de quererme dejaré de quererte poco a poco. Si de pronto me olvidas no me busques, que ya te habré olvidado. Si consideras largo y loco el viento de banderas que pasa por mi vida y te decides a dejarme a la orilla del corazón en que tengo raíces, piensa que en ese día, a esa hora levantaré los brazos y saldrán mis raíces a buscar otra tierra. Pero si cada día, cada hora sientes que a mí estás destinada con dulzura implacable. Si cada día sube una flor a tus labios a buscarme, 10

ay amor mío, ay mía, en mí todo ese fuego se repite, en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida, mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada, y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos sin salir de los míos.

Si tú Me Olvidas by Pablo Neruda. Translation by Ochoa Pérez Isaac I want you to know one thing. You know what it is like: if I look at the crystal moon, the red branch of the quiet autumn trough my window, if I touch you by the fire the impalpable ashes or the shriveled firewood, everything draws me to you, as if everything that exists: aromas, light, metals were small ships sailing to those isles of yours awaiting me. However, if little by little you stop loving me I will stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me don’t look for me because I’ll have forgotten you. If you regard long and hard the waiving flags passing trough my life and you decide leaving me at your shores’ heart where I put down roots, think, on that day at that time 11

I will raise my arms and I’ll uproot to look for another land. But if everyday, every hour, you feel you are meant to me with implacable sweetness, if everyday a flower climbs your lips to look for me Oh! My ladylove, oh mine! in me that burning is renewed, nothing is put out or forgotten in me, your love feeds mine, loved, as long as you live it will be surrounded by your arms without leaving mine.

“If You Forget Me” By Pablo Neruda In English: I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists: aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loveing me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly 12

you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

La Palabra (Original) Nació la palabra en la sangre, creció en el cuerpo oscuro, palpitando, y voló con los labios y la boca. Más lejos y más cerca aún, aún venía de padres muertos y de errantes razas, de territorios que se hicieron piedra, que se cansaron de sus pobres tribus, porque cuando el dolor salió al camino los pueblos anduvieron y llegaron 13

y nueva tierra y agua reunieron para sembrar de nuevo su palabra. Y así la herencia es ésta: éste es el aire que nos comunica con el hombre enterrado y con la aurora de nuevos seres que aún no amanecieron. Aún la atmósfera tiembla con la primera palabra elaborada con pánico y gemido. Salió de las tinieblas y hasta ahora no hay trueno que truene aún con su ferretería como aquella palabra, la primera palabra pronunciada: tal vez sólo un susurro fue, una gota y cae y cae aún su catarata. Luego el sentido llena la palabra. Quedó preñada y se llenó de vidas. Todo fue nacimientos y sonidos: la afirmación, la claridad, la fuerza, la negación, la destrucción, la muerte; el verbo asumió todos los poderes y se fundió existencia con esencia en la electricidad de su hermosura. Palabra humana, sílaba, cadera de larga luz y dura platería, hereditaria copa que recibe las comunicaciones de la sangre: he aquí que el silencio fue integrado por el total de la palabra humana y no hablar es morir entre los seres: se hace lenguaje hasta la cabellera, habla la boca sin mover los labios: los ojos de repente son palabras. Yo tomo la palabra y la recorro como si fuera sólo forma humana, me embelesan sus líneas y navego 14

en cada resonancia del idioma: pronuncio y soy y sin hablar me acerca al fin de las palabras al silencio. Bebo por la palabra levantando una palabra o copa cristalina, en ella bebo el vino del idioma o el agua interminable, manantial maternal de las palabras, y copa y agua y vino originan mi canto porque el verbo es orígen y vierte vida: es sangre, es la sangre que expresa su substancia y está dispuesto así su desarrollo: dan cristal al cristal, sangre a la sangre y dan vida a la vida las palabras.

The Word The word was born in the blood, it grew in the dark body, pulsing, and took flight with the lips and mouth. Farther away and nearer, still, still it came from dead fathers and from wandering races, from territories that had become stone, that had tired of their poor tribes, because when grief set out on the road the people went and arrived and united new land and water to sow their word once again. And that's why the inheritance is this: this is the air that connects us with the buried man and with the dawn of new beings that haven't yet arisen. Still the atmosphere trembles with the first word produced with panic and groaning. It emerged 15

from the darkness and even now there is no thunder that thunders with the iron sound of that word, the first word uttered: perhaps it was just a whisper, a raindrop, but its cascade still falls and falls. Later on, meaning fills the word. It stayed pregnant and was filled with lives, everything was births and sounds: affirmation, clarity, strength, negation, destruction, death: the name took on all the powers and combined existence with essence in its electric beauty. Human word, syllable, flank of long light and hard silver, hereditary goblet that receives the communications of the blood: it is here that silence was formed by the whole of the human word and not to speak is to die among beings: language extends out to the hair, the mouth speaks without moving the lips: suddenly the eyes are words. I take the word and move through it, as if it were only a human form, its lines delight me and I sail in each resonance of language: I utter and I am and across the boundary of words, without speaking, I approach silence. I drink to the word, raising a word or crystalline cup, in it I drink the wine of language or unfathomable water, maternal source of all words, 16

and cup and water and wine give rise to my song because the name is origin and green life: it is blood, the blood that expresses its substance, and thus its unrolling is prepared: words give crystal to the crystal, blood to the blood, and give life to life. -Pablo Neruda appearing here from: 'Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon' Translated by Stephen Mitchell

The Word The word was born in the blood, grew in the dark body, beating, and took flight through the lips and the mouth. Farther away and nearer still, still it came from dead fathers and from wandering races, from lands which had turned to stone, lands weary of their poor tribes, for when grief took to the roads the people set out and arrived and married new land and water to grow their words again. And so this is the inheritance; this is the wavelength which connects us with dead men and the dawning of new beings not yet come to light. Still the atmosphere quivers with the first word uttered dressed up in terror and sighing. 17

It emerged from the darkness and until now there is no thunder that ever rumbles with the iron voice of that word, the first word uttered— perhaps it was only a ripple, a single drop, and yet its great cataract falls and falls. Later on, the word fills with meaning. Always with child, it filled up with lives. Everything was births and sounds— affirmation, clarity, strength, negation, destruction, death— the verb wook over all the power and blended existence with essence in the electricity of its grace. Human word, syllable, flank of extending light and solid silverwork, hereditary goblet which receives the communications of the blood— here is where silence came together with the wholeness of the human word, and, for human beings, not to speak is to die— language extends even to the hair, the mouth speaks without the lips moving, all of a sudden, the eyes are words. I take the word and pass it through my senses as though it were no more than a human shape; its arrangements awe me and I find my way through each resonance of the spoken word— I utter and I am and, speechless, I approach across the edge of words silence itself.

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I drink to the word, raising A word or a shining cup; in it I drink the pure wine of language or inexhaustible water, maternal source of words, and cup and water and wine give rise to my song because the verb is the source and vivid life—it is blood, blood which expresses its substance and so ordains its own unwinding. Words give glass quality to glass, blood to blood, and life to life itself. —Pablo Neruda (translated by Alastair Reid)

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