Monday, October 20, 2014

Translating 'The First Howl'

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.

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 

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.