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lucypipper's review against another edition
4.0
Kavafis echa raíces en la Antigua Grecia. Sus poemas reviven el poder de un pueblo que conoció la gloria y ensalza las grandes figuras de la época. Cada verso te trae un recuerdo del Mediterráneo y al mismo tiempo te sumerge en la sensualidad y el deseo propios del modernismo. Busca la belleza en las lágrimas de Príamo y en el cuerpo de todos los amantes que se escondían bajo la luna de Alejandría.
Algunos poemas son quizá más complicados por las constantes referencias a la literatura helénica, pero si evolución es palpable: del paso del tiempo y la muerte pasa a la sensualidad - sin abandonar los otros temas - y a la pasión erótica de los encuentros amorosos, siempre sumergiendo al lector en el aroma del Mediterráneo clásico.
Añado: igual que la literatura griega late en sus versos, Kavafis alimenta a la poesía de la experiencia. Gil de Biedma es incomprensible sin él.
Algunos poemas son quizá más complicados por las constantes referencias a la literatura helénica, pero si evolución es palpable: del paso del tiempo y la muerte pasa a la sensualidad - sin abandonar los otros temas - y a la pasión erótica de los encuentros amorosos, siempre sumergiendo al lector en el aroma del Mediterráneo clásico.
Añado: igual que la literatura griega late en sus versos, Kavafis alimenta a la poesía de la experiencia. Gil de Biedma es incomprensible sin él.
nataalia_sanchez's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
5.0
spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition
3.0
This review is of the translation by Aliki Barnstone.
My favourite translation of Cavafy's poems is Dr. Rae Dalven's, but much of my apprehension going into Aliki Barnstone's translations was misjudged. I wasn't impressed with Willis Barnstone's Sappho translations, but Ancient and Modern Greek are entirely different skillsets (I studied Ancient Greek for years and still can hardly speak a word of Modern Greek); thankfully, Willis Barnstone takes a backseat in this particular translation, primarily contributing to the introduction and scholarly endnotes. As for Aliki Barnstone's translations of the poems, they were good, but still not enough to eclipse Dr. Dalven's own. I do wonder if this has something to do with the fact that Dr. Dalven herself was a professional Greek translator and was Greek, while Barnstone—although an accomplished poet in her own right—is a professor of English and creative writing.
For the purposes of comparison, here is Barnstone's translation of one of my favourite of Cavafy's poems:
My favourite translation of Cavafy's poems is Dr. Rae Dalven's, but much of my apprehension going into Aliki Barnstone's translations was misjudged. I wasn't impressed with Willis Barnstone's Sappho translations, but Ancient and Modern Greek are entirely different skillsets (I studied Ancient Greek for years and still can hardly speak a word of Modern Greek); thankfully, Willis Barnstone takes a backseat in this particular translation, primarily contributing to the introduction and scholarly endnotes. As for Aliki Barnstone's translations of the poems, they were good, but still not enough to eclipse Dr. Dalven's own. I do wonder if this has something to do with the fact that Dr. Dalven herself was a professional Greek translator and was Greek, while Barnstone—although an accomplished poet in her own right—is a professor of English and creative writing.
For the purposes of comparison, here is Barnstone's translation of one of my favourite of Cavafy's poems:
And the original Greek:DESIRESLike beautiful bodies of the dead that haven't aged
and were locked in a mausoleum with tears,
with roses at their heads and jasmine at their feet,
that is what desires look like when they pass
without having fulfilled, without even
a single night of passion, or a shining morning.
Dr. Dalven's translation of the same is quite similar, with only a few syntactical changes:ΕΠΙΘΥΜΊΕΣΣαν σώματα ωραία νεκρών που δεν εγέρασαν
και τάκλεισαν, με δάκρυα, σε μαυσωλείο λαμπρό,
με ρόδα στο κεφάλι και στα πόδια γιασεμιά—
έτσ' η επιθυμίες μοιάζουν που επέρασαν
χωρίς να εκπληρωθούν· χωρίς ν' αξιωθεί καμιά
της ηδονής μια νύχτα, ή ένα πρωϊ της φεγγερό.
Like beautiful bodies of the dead who had not grown oldThe word φεγγερό is moonlight or moonlit, from φεγγάρι (moon); Barnstone's translation takes a less literal approach in favour of the (presumably) metaphorical implications. Similarly, Barnstone entirely omits the word λαμπρό (bright, brilliant), from λάμπω (to shine), while Dr. Dalven translates it as glorious; the (presumably) white marble of the mausoleum reflecting the light is a parallel to the later shine of moonlight. These differences are subtle, but they add up: much of the nuance of the original is lost in Barnstone's translations—setting aside the nuance lost in any form of translation—and retained in Dr. Dalven's.
and they shut them, with tears, in a magnificent mausoleum,
with roses at the head and jasmine at the feet—
that is how desires look that have passed
without fulfillment; without one of them having achieved
a night of sensual delight, or a moonlit morn.
spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition
5.0
"There must be some elements in poetry which are separable from their original verbal expression and some which are inseparable," says W.H. Auden in his introduction to Dr. Rae Dalven's translation,
Auden's introduction also touches on the difficulties of approaching translated poetry both from the perspective of the reader and the translator. "I do now know a word of Modern Greek," he says (same, buddy),
My favourite poem of the collection was "The City" (pp. 27):
I have read several translation of Cavafy's poetry: Dr. Rae Dalven (this one), Daniel Mendelsohn, Aliki Barnstone, Stratis Haviaras.
ETA: Notes on translating this poem, by André Aciman.
It is obvious, for example, that any association of ideas created by homophones is restricted to the language in which these homophones occur. Only in German does Welt rhyme with Geld, and only in English is Hilaire Belloc's pun possible:I am reminded of the difficulties of translating James Joyce's Ulysses into Chinese: a paragraph full of linguistic colloquialisms and plays on words goes into Chinese and returns to English as an entirely different piece of writing nearly unrecognisable as Joyce—after all, as one reviewer said, it's far from being incomprehensible enough.
When I am dead, I hope it may be said:
'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.'
When, as in pure lyric, a poet "sings" rather than "speaks," he is rarely, if ever translatable. The "meaning" of a song by Campion is inseparable from the sound and the rhythmical values of the actual words he employs. It is conceivable that a genuine bilingual poet might write what, to him, was the same lyric in two languages, but if someone else were then to make a literal translation of each version into the language of the other, no reader would be able to recognise their connection.
Auden's introduction also touches on the difficulties of approaching translated poetry both from the perspective of the reader and the translator. "I do now know a word of Modern Greek," he says (same, buddy),
so that my only access to Cavafy's poetry has been through English and French translations. This perplexes and a little disturbs me. Like everybody else, I think, who writes poetry, I have always believed the essential difference between prose and poetry to be that prose can be translated into another tongue but poetry cannot. [...] I do not have to read Pindar in Greek in order to appreciate the beauty and aptness with which he praises the island of Delos. [...] Since language is the creation of a social group, not of an individual, the standards by which it can be judged are relatively objective. Thus, when reading a poem in one's native tongue, one can find the sensibility personally antipathetic and yet be compelled to admire its verbal manifestation. But when one is reading a translation, all one gets is the sensibility, and either one likes it or one does not. I happen to like Cavafy's very much.The quality of this particular translation must be credited to the efforts of Dr. Dalven, herself born in Préveza, Greece; Dr. Dalven was a professional translator of Greek as well as a longtime professor of English literature and Modern Greek literature.
My favourite poem of the collection was "The City" (pp. 27):
You said, “I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.And in the original Greek:
Another city will be found, a better one than this.
Every effort of mine is a condemnation of fate;
and my heart is—like a corpse—buried.
How long will my mind remain in this wasteland.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years destroying and wasting.”
You will find no new lands, you will find no other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighbourhoods;
and you will grow grey in these same houses.
Always you will arrive in this city. Do not hope for any other—
There is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have destroyed your life here
in this little corner, you have ruined it in the entire world.
I speak Ancient Greek far, far better than Modern Greek, but I have a dictionary and the ability to read Greek typefont, so I can pretty safely say that the above is a decent translation. A couple minor missteps, such as translating ασπρίζεις as "you will go grey" (it means "you will whiten"), κώχη (κόχη, κόγχη) refers more to an alcove (although corner is technically fine—it also refers to any bodily cavity), etc., but all of these are permissible; Dr. Dalven translates the line "Κάθε προσπάθεια μου μια καταδίκη είναι γραφτή" as "Every effort of mine is a condemnation of fate," but a more literal translation would be "every effort of mine, a condemnation is written," with condemnation in the sense of a conviction or sentencing.Η ΠΌΛΙΣ,Είπες Θα πάγω σ' άλλη γή, θα πάγω σ' άλλη θάλασσα,
Μια πόλις άλλη θα βρεθεί καλλίτερη από αυτή.
Κάθε προσπάθεια μου μια καταδίκη είναι γραφτή
κ' είν' η καρδιά μου—σαν νεκρός—θαμένη.
Ο νους μου ως πότε μες στον μαρασμό αυτόν θα μένει.
Οπου το μάτι μου γυρίσω, όπου κι αν δω
ερείπια μαύρα της ζωής μου βλέπω εδώ,
που τόσα χρόνια πέρασα και ρήμαξα και χάλασα
Καινούριους τόπους δεν θα βρεις, δεν θάβρεις άλλες θάλασσες.
Η πόλις θα σε ακολουθεί. Στους δρόμους θα γυρνάς
τους ίδιους. Και στες γειτονιές τες ίδιες θα γερνάς
και μες στα ίδια σπίτια αυτά θ' ασπρίζεις.
Πάντα στην πόλι αυτή θα φθάνεις. Για τα αλλού—μη ελπίζεις—
δεν έχει πλοίο για σε, δεν έχει οδό.
Ετσι που τη ζωή σου ρήμαξες εδώ
στην κώχη τούτη την μικρή, σ' όλην την γή την χάλασες.
I have read several translation of Cavafy's poetry: Dr. Rae Dalven (this one), Daniel Mendelsohn, Aliki Barnstone, Stratis Haviaras.
ETA: Notes on translating this poem, by André Aciman.
bobbo49's review against another edition
5.0
Ah, Cavafy! Thank you again, Desmond O'Grady, for introducing me to this great poet and historian. Although I have rarely read a book of poetry from beginning to end, Cavafy is an exception; the beauty of his writing, combined with both the intensely personal and the vivid historical (particularly the wonderful poems of the ancient worlds of Greece, Constantinople and Alexandria), are quite simply a magical reading experience.
egovanesio's review against another edition
5.0
Anima senza tempo. Incredibile, impossibile da recensire, da leggere e rileggere per la vita. 10 stelle
vassiliki's review against another edition
2.0
His philosophical poems were indeed very beautifully written and thought-provoking! When it comes to the other ones [ (pseudo)historic, erotic ], i can get why there is all this hype about him, but they just weren’t my type.