Readers, please kill me softly!
I devoted my first two years in Monash for a fair amount of research
on translation theory, and it is really a fascinating field. There are
as many facets and complexities as colours in a sunset, but at its core,
it does have many number of interesting and easily understandable
aspects.
Translation would be far simpler if all languages were identical,
abstract sets of words, used identically by everybody. If this were the
case, every word construction, tense, or framing would have an exact
duplicate in every other language in the world. The English word ‘Table’
would be exactly the same as the Sinhalese ‘Mesa’, and every time you
saw ‘Table’, you could just switch it out with ‘mesa’. So, ideally, I
would sit down and start replacing English words, sentences, and
paragraphs with their Sinhalese “equivalents”. Once this substitution
was complete, I would have a perfectly accurate copy of the original
text which was completely understandable to a speaker of the target
language.
As convenient as that would be, it is not remotely true. Even in our
quick example, ‘Table’ in English has a number of different meanings,
and not all are covered by the Sinhalese ‘mesa’ (ranging from a Data
Table, to “tabling” resolutions). No two languages are exactly
equivalent, and although some words might have quick and easy
equivalents in both the source and target language, the vast majority of
words and constructions will require the translator to make some
decisions. Every translation has a bit of bias. However, that is not
necessarily a bad thing. Although translation theorists will likely
argue this point, I suspect that the most accurate translation will
likely fall somewhere in the middle, with a mix of difference and
identity. Most of all, translators always struggle to overcome their
scariest situation, the untranslatability.
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The English word ‘Table’ would be
exactly the same as the Sinhalese ‘Mesa’ |
This is an attempt to reveal the actual challenges which have been
faced by the literary translators.
Sihil vethii sanda ithaa
Saava ehi pe’na gathaa
Re’sin adak nonawathaa
Sitiida e’ honda sathaa
(“Nelavilla” by Cumaratunga Munidasa)
The poem has been translated by Hemamali Gunasinghe.
Too cool the moonbeams might turn out
The bunny leaps up in one bout
And permits half their light unveil
What a loving creature our cotton tail
Two points could be discussed within this stanza. Sinhalese believe
that a hare is visible on the moon. The source for this belief is the
‘Sasa Jathakaya’. The hare is none other than the ‘Bodhisathva’ whom was
placed there by Lord Shakra to show his gratitude over its great morals.
To extract the total idea from this poem, a reader needs some
background knowledge of Sinhalese culture and its Buddhist backdrops.
Mrs Gunasinghe, one of the greatest translators, has provided a near
cover up, but still fails prevent a ‘culture shock’ in a foreign reader.
A reader from a different culture would ask ‘what the hell that bunny
does on moon?’
Secondly, translator faces a challenge over the geographical features
of the place where the poem was written. In the poem the bunny leaps
upon the moon as it is ‘too cool’.
Come on bunny! We are halfway through the spring here in Sydney but
still it is freezing! I assume most of the English readers prefer hot
weather than chilling winters and therefore they will be amazed to see
this bunny leaps to a cooler place rather than choosing a warmer spot to
get snuggled up.
In Colombo, it is a different story. Translator’s job is just like
how a man enjoyed his trickle while destined to be killed either in
three different ways.
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