Reviews

Catullus by Roz Kaveney, Gaius Valerius Catullus

aidan__1's review

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emotional reflective tense medium-paced

4.0

On the whole, these were good translations of Catullus' poems, if a bit heavy handed. Of course a Catullus translation is more to be admired for being explicit than veiled, so it's not the worst problem to have. It's always hard to preserve effect of Catullus' many different meters. 

spacestationtrustfund's review

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1.0

This review is of the translation by Roz Kaveney.

Catullus CI is an elegiac poem addressed to Catullus's brother, the manner of whose death is no longer known, in which Catullus presents to the "mute ash" (mutus cinis) of his brother the best gift he can bestow, i.e., a poem. The elegiac couplet, traditionally used in Latin love poetry (including some of Catullus's own poems, cf. those addressed to Lesbia), was originally used by ancient Greek poets as a means of lamentation to express grief or mourning. The closing three words are among Catullus's most well-known: ave atque vale ("hail and farewell"). This is the original Latin text of the poem:
multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,
ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem
quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum
heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi
nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum
tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,
accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu.
atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.
Latin poetry is difficult to translate directly into English, due to great syntactical differences, but here's a rough approximation of the literal meaning:
through many peoples and across many surfaces [of the sea] carried
I arrive at, brother, these miserable funeral rites
so as to bestow upon you at last the obligations of death
and in vain address [the] silent ash(es)
seeing as Fortune has from me [the real] you [yourself] carried away
oh poor brother undeservedly stolen from me
now nevertheless meanwhile these, which [in] the ancient customs of [our] parents
were handed down [as] sad obligations of funerals,
receive, [with] much fraternal releasing of weeping.
and in perpetuity, brother, hail and farewell.
Adjusting slightly for word order and phraseology:
Carried through many peoples and across many surfaces of the sea,
I arrive, brother, at these miserable funeral rites

so as to bestow upon you at last the obligations of death
and, in vain, address these your silent ashes

seeing as Fortune has carried away from me the true you,
oh poor brother, undeservedly stolen away from me,

now nevertheless receive in the meantime these which, in the ancient customs of our parents,
were handed down as the sad obligations of funerals,

with much outpouring of brotherly lamentation.
And in perpetuity, brother, hail and farewell.
Regardless of the particular word order, you should be able to form a general idea of the rough structure of the poem. It's very sad. I like it a lot. Are you ready to see Roz Kaveney's interpretation of Catullus CI, which she calls a translation? I know I certainly wasn't.
To get here finally, I've had to fly
halfway around the world, and I've got here
too late for more than this. That's why I cry,
give you the gift I owe, a single tear

over your filled-in grave. We have no more
—our lucky grandparents believed so much
in ritual—and when disaster tore
people apart, they knew one day they'd touch

and souls would kiss. Standing around a grave
reading the words was just God's guarantee.
We don't believe. No ritual will save
our souls. And so I know I'll never see

you more. No hell or heaven when we die.
So, brother, I will greet you. Then goodbye.
Several red flags jump out at me immediately. The first is the fact that the translated poem rhymes—this almost never happens in translation, much less when the two languages in question are as dissimilar as Latin and Modern English. A rhyming poem is a sign of a poor translation. The second glaring red flag is for me the presence of the word "God," particularly in that form—that's the Christian "God" with the initial majuscule, for the record—in place of Catullus's "Fortuna." The Roman Fortuna was a deity, yes, but more of a personification of Fortune as it stands rather than analogous to the modern Christian idea of their God. Although Catullus lived during the late Imperial Period of Roman history, he still died several decades before the purported birth of Jesus Christ, meaning that this poem predates Christianity and thus should not have the concept of an Abrahamic religion foisted upon it. Apart from being highly disrespectful, it is also blatantly inaccurate.

I assume it's also obvious how the other deviations in Kaveney's translation of the poem detract from the original message of Catullus's writing. In general Kaveney's translation is disrespectful, misleading, and just plain not correct.

spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition

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2.0

Translation by James Michie.

bronzeageholly's review

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emotional inspiring reflective fast-paced

4.0


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