"A real translation is transparent; it does not cover the original, does not block its light, but allows the pure language, as though reinforced by its own medium, to shine upon the original all the more fully"
I found Cooperson's introduction to be more interesting than his translation itself. He revealed many crucial details about the original text and its background, and they made the work memorable to me without even reading it - I wish the introduction was made into a separate book itself, I would have loved reading it. His introductions to each of the Impostures felt engaging, too. I think Cooperson is skilled at introducing and describing and perhaps assumed that understanding a work descriptively would be sufficient for re-creating it in translation, hence he gets an idea of transferring Arabic dialects into English ones because in theory the concepts seem similar. In practice, however, I do not think those can be equalized at all, and that is proven by the fact that the translation feels difficult and confusing to read - the complete opposite of how the original is supposed to be. It felt like the idea was cumbersome and loaded to the point that it obscured the light of the original - and well, that makes complete sense because it seems that Cooperson attempted to sort of create a "new" light to begin with. He invested a lot of effort into his endeavor - effort that I believe was unnecessary and was more akin to trying to fit a square into a triangular opening. I think both the creation of a work and its translation are to be done with ease, catching and following the flow, feeling the poem rather than swimming against it - like how the article on sinology mentioned, one needs to feel the taste of poetry to translate it, to know how to feel the taste of the work to translate it in a way that does not come off as bland. Sure, Cooperson's work is not bland on the surface. At the same time it still left a bland aftertaste and felt more like a script rather than poetry. It also did showcase his erudition to a high degree, like another article pointed out. But in this case equalizing Cooperson's erudition with that of Al-Hariri would be the same as equalizing English dialects with Arabic ones. Moreover, the point of translation was in conveying Al-Hariri, not showing off Cooperson... And now only those possessing a similar level of erudition as Cooperson could have a chance to enjoy his works.. It gets way too confusing following all the contradictions that arise!
I read those three Impostures in Russian - which were called Maqamat like the original work - and it felt a pleasure to follow the rhyming within sentences that appeared rhythmically and without fail. My mind felt at ease and I had fun reading. Maqamat had a childhood feeling to it and were like playing with toys - the meaning is precisely to not have an explicit, practical purpose to such activity as reading and writing rhyming prose. Through this translation, I could see why Al-Hariri became famous and his works got copied a lot right away, I also could imagine how they looked like in the original. I even felt like I could almost hear them recited in Arabic even though I do not speak the language. Russian does not have distinct dialects so everything was written in a uniform style - yet it left space to imagine variations in the original, and served as a window into it rather than its replacement.
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I think the "translatability" of Al-Hariri comes down to how important it is to translate him - is he important enough to twist and bend the English language a little (or not little) to relay his style? Is he and other authors important enough for readers to willingly grow accustomed to literary inventions and welcoming them? It seems that the English language is not flexible when it comes to syntactical innovations. Should it remain this way? Why or why not?
-Ksenia
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