David Green

David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I published booklets of my own poems. The original allocation of ISBN numbers is used up now, though. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become, often more about music than books and not so often about poems. It will be about whatever suggests itself.

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Derek Mahon - Raw Material



Derek Mahon, Raw Material (Gallery Press)


Poetry in translation is an unsatisfactory business. Poetry only really exists in its original language and is immediately a different thing once translated. However, it would be insular and narrow-minded to only read poetry in languages that one was fluent enough to appreciate it in. I like to think that I can read Baudelaire in the original but I'm sure I'm missing out on quite a bit.

Derek Mahon's introductory note to this book distinguishes between the 'literal' approach of Ted Hughes, in which much is sacrificed to stay true to the words rather than reproducing the spirit of a piece, and Mahon's own approach, which is to provide his 'version'. I think both are flawed and the whole enterprise is too difficult to get right without learning the first language. And that is a big undertaking.

Not only that, but we get more of Mahon's alter ego poet, Gopal Singh, here- a poet of his own invention to make faux translations of, just in case translation wasn't a suspect enough process already. Mahon's not alone in having an imaginary friend like that. Last year I tried to find more poems by Liviu Campanu before discovering that he was invented by Patrick McGuinness and even I, for whatever reason, had a small number of poems in magazines some thirty years ago under the name Detroit Jackson. I don't want to talk about that.

But I'm glad to say that this is an enjoyable book in spite of all that with versions of Baudelaire, Rimbaud and others, but mainly for the series of poems, Sextus and Cynthia, from Propertius, a Roman writing to his girlfriend at one time passionately recalling a night spent together but also missing her, being suspected by her of more than he says he was guilty of and at times jealously warning against the attentions of others, like,

some dickhead adept at sexy talk.

It is in a word like 'dickhead' that a literal translation and Mahon's modern vernacular rendering can be seen to diverge. One day perhaps I'll get a volume of Propertius and check which word he used there. I'm not sure it was one we covered in 'O' level Latin.

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