I thought I would write a small post about the process of
translating the Wolf Band's song The First Howl. Yes I realize this will be
interesting to exactly no one. Perhaps a year down the line, I'll look at this
post again and be interested and that'll be something. Also if I was going to
write a process-of-translation blog post, maybe it should have been about
something else, a longer work that I wrestled with, like that poem by Ngarma
which I think is my favorite piece of translation. But no, maybe this song/poem
is better, because shorter is more manageable and because I made a few
different choices that are perhaps illustrative.
ཟླ་བ་ཡང་མར་ལ་འགྲིབ།
ངུ་སྐད་ཐེངས་དང་པོ།
ཟླ་བ་ཡང་མར་ལ་འགྲིབ།
དགུན་དུས་མཚན་ལྗོངས་འཁྱག་རླུང་འུར་འུར།
སྙིང་རེ་རྗེ།
བཀྲེས་སྐོམ་གྱིས་མནར་བའི་ང་རང་ཚོ།
གང་ལ་འགྲོ། གང་ལ་འགྲོ།
ཨ་མ་ཡིས་སྔ་མོ་སྔ་མོ་ཞིག་ལ།
ཨ་སྔོན་དབྱིངས་ནས་འབྲུ་དྲུག་བབས་མྱོང་ཟེར།
བདེན་ན་ཐང་།
གནམ་ལ་སྐྱབས་བཅོལ་བའི་ང་རང་ཚོ།
གང་ལ་འགྲོ གང་ལ་འགྲོ
ཟས་གོས་ཀྱི་བྲན་གཡོག་ང་ཚོ་སྙིང་རེ་རྗེ།
ཁ་བ་བཞིན་ཞུ་ལ་ཉེ།
པོ་ཏ་ལའི་གསེར་ཏོག་གི་ཁ་མདོག་འགྱུར་ལ་ཉེ།
གསལ་བཤད་ཀྱི་འབྲི་ཀློག་དང་།
སྤྱང་ཀིའི་ང་རོ་ཁྲོད་།
ང་ཚོ་ལངས་ནས་འགྲོ མཆོངས་ནས་འགྲོ
ང་ཚོ་ལངས་ནས་འགྲོ མཆོངས་ནས་འགྲོ
The following is an earlier draft. It's still pretty finished.
The First Howl (earlier draft)
Even the moon wanes and dims
The wind blows over this winter
landscape of night
Such a pity
We who are tortured by hunger and
thirst
Where do we go where do we go
A long time ago Mother said
Grains fell down from the sky
Maybe so
We who take refuge in the sky
Where do we go where do we go
We who are slaves to food and
clothes
The snow is about to melt
The golden spire atop the Potala
is about change colors
With the sounds of the letters
And the cries of the wolves
Let us rise let us pounce
The First Howl (final draft)
Even the moon wanes and dims
The wind blows and howls over this
winter's landscape of night
What a pity
We who are tortured by hunger and
thirst
Where do we go
Where shall we go
A long time ago Mother said
Grains fell down from the sky
Maybe it was so
We who take refuge in the sky
Where do we go
Where shall we go
We who are slaves to food and
clothes
Soon to dissolve like snow
The golden spire atop the Potala
is about switch colors
With the sounds of the letters
And the cries of the wolves
Let us rise
Let us pounce
I had punctuation at first but it started to look a little
rigid. There are some lines that run on, blend into each other: We who take
refuge in the sky/ Where do we go where do we go/ We who are slaves to food and
clothes. But it's a song and you could say all the lines run into each other,
the entire section repeats itself and Tibetan punctuates differently anyway. So
I removed the punctuation and freed the lines, so to speak.
The wind blows and howls to get close to the onomatopoeia of the
wind roaring in Tibetan (འཁྱག་རླུང་འུར་འུར།) over this wintry
landscape of night or winter landscape of night or rather, winter's landscape
of night. Such a pity. What a pity. A pity. It's a pity. Tis a pity. (I know.
Awful!) I finally decided 'what a pity' has a slightly more sardonic quality.
Does it really? I have no idea. I liked the hard consonantal 'ta' of the what.
Where do we go? གང་ལ་འགྲོ གང་ལ་འགྲོ
Where do we go? Or. Where shall we go? Why not either? It felt
like a cheater's move because usually repetition is clearly meant to be so by
the author and so you have to be faithful. But I felt like this was a liberty I
could take- because the Tibetan could be 'do' as well as 'shall' and now the
English refrain- it's still a refrain- carries the double meaning as well.
Now here I made a deeply embarrassing mistake and published it
on Tibet Web Digest. ཁ་བ་བཞིན་ཞུ་ལ་ཉེ། I literally didn't see the བཞིན་ and translated this as 'The snow
is about to melt' instead of 'soon to melt/dissolve like snow'. A rookie mistake!
Ugh.
པོ་ཏ་ལའི་གསེར་ཏོག་གི་ཁ་མདོག་འགྱུར་ལ་ཉེ།
Hmm I was tempted to leave the 'sertok' in there, since 'spire'
seems very steeply or churchy but then I figured maybe it's close enough.
Changing colors felt too indefinite—change is an all-encompassing word.
Switching colors, that's not much better honestly. About to-also ugly. And then
I had to deal with གསལ་བཤད་ཀྱི་འབྲི་ཀློག་ - the reading and
writing of the alphabet. Ugh. I suppose I took enormous liberty here, but 'the
reading and writing of the alphabet' threatened to unbalance the poem. How to
shape into poetry and still retain the meaning? The sounds and shapes of the alphabet?
The sounding and shaping of the letters? I went with just 'the sounds of the
letters' because you can hear that 'with the cries of the wolves', whereas the
writing and shaping of the letters confused me a little. Ok, I was unfaithful.
Finally, I suppose
technically, the wording goes: Let us rise and go, let us leap/jump/whatever
gravity defying word of your choice/ and go. But for me, the doubling in
English somehow dilutes the action rather than intensifying it, and anyway the
act of going, of movement, is imminent (is pregnant hah) in rising and
pouncing. ང་ཚོ་ལངས་ནས་འགྲོ མཆོངས་ནས་འགྲོ carries action in a way that 'rise and go' and 'pounce and go'
doesn't. And I thought each line should have its own space. Let us rise. Let us
pounce. As Lhadruk Tsering foresaw, a beautiful moment to leave the poem, at
the moment the energy is just about to turn from potential to kinetic.
