Thanks so much ';'. Been over a lot of these translations with a fine-tooth comb, they range from slightly off to farcical (although they sometimes - tragically - alter the sense/meaning of the pieces). Bly’s translations have to be some of the worst. An absolute disaster.
This particular piece seems extraordinary to me. It does so much I simply can't put it into words. It's obviously based on a moment (daydream?) he had during one of his sessions, when he was working as a clinical psychologist. Haunting, each and every time. Literally out of this world, like imagination (but slowly, slowly getting under your skin forever).
Thank you Brendan, it means a great deal to me when someone else is drawn into his magical world. And yes, of course, it's sad that language, or translations, to be exact, can and do separate us from these worlds.
What a poem.
Thought to myself 'how have I never encountered this poem before?' - and then realised I had read it, in Robert Bly's translation, years back.
Just read the Bly translation again.
'But the painting there. It is a landscape that makes one feel peaceful even though the wheat is a golden storm.'
Carden Nemo translation:
But the painting. A landscape of quiet,
though the grain is a golden storm.
Ha!
Very happy to have this new translation where every grain is lit as if to waken...
Thanks so much ';'. Been over a lot of these translations with a fine-tooth comb, they range from slightly off to farcical (although they sometimes - tragically - alter the sense/meaning of the pieces). Bly’s translations have to be some of the worst. An absolute disaster.
This particular piece seems extraordinary to me. It does so much I simply can't put it into words. It's obviously based on a moment (daydream?) he had during one of his sessions, when he was working as a clinical psychologist. Haunting, each and every time. Literally out of this world, like imagination (but slowly, slowly getting under your skin forever).
Thanks for the translation -- Language shouldn't separate us from the poetic voice that was Tranströmer's. Loved these lines -
But the painting. A landscape of quiet,
though the grain is a golden storm.
Blueweed sky and drifting clouds. Below them
in the yellow surge, a few white shirts sailing: harvesters—
they cast no shadows.
-- I caught my breath.
Thank you Brendan, it means a great deal to me when someone else is drawn into his magical world. And yes, of course, it's sad that language, or translations, to be exact, can and do separate us from these worlds.
Brilliant translation 🙇♂️🎉💛
Thanks Bob, appreciate it 💛
fabulous work as always Daniel...and keep up the great work of Amersterdam Review...
💛💛💛🔥🔥