LINGUOPOETIC SIGNIFICANCE OF CONNOTATIVE ELEMENTS IN TRANSLATION
Marklen Konurbaev
Professor of English Philology, Moscow State University
Abstract: The article focuses on the linguopoetic significance of connotative elements in literary texts and
analyses the ways such elements are translated from one language into another. The author proposes to
divide all contextually connotative elements into two classes – those whose semantic potential is broadly
realised in the context of a literary work, on the one hand, and those which fulfil mostly expressive
function in the text and do not realise their basic nominative meaning to the full, on the other. The author
argues that the contextual broadening of the words’ semantics and the actualisation by such lexical
elements of their expressive potential does not automatically make them the centre of linguopoetic
expression. This highly important for the theory of translation question is considered in close connection
with the analysis of such concepts as the aesthetics of literary texts and the semiotic capacity of the
connotative elements in a work of fiction.
Keywords: linguopoeitcs, translation, poetry, fiction, stylistics, connotation, konurbaev, Milton, hamlet,
Pushkin, Bible, Psalms, Chekhov,
Oddly enough quite a lot of people honestly believe that if the translation preserves 70% of the
author’s intention – the translation is good. I wonder what is left (or rather left out) in the remaining 30%
and how much “salt” does the translation actually lose with the loss of those“negligible” 30 (or even less)
per cents. A hypothetical answer to this question giving a thoughtful theoretician in translation so much
food for thought could be found in the works of an outstanding Russian scholar Lev V. Scherba who
claimed that the auditory image of a writer can be exceedingly diverse in brightness: certain elements are
very clear and distinct for him, and every deviation in their interpretation, however insignificant, would
be extremely painful for him. Other elements are as it were in the shade, while there are yet others which
he can barely hear, and provided the general perspective of brightness is preserved he would agree to
variations in interpretation. Such view would be in keeping with what we observe in the language in
general, where we can always discern the important, the significant on the one hand, and the socalled “packing stuff” on the other [cf. 19, 24-25].
If we apply this principle to translation it appears that the transposition of a text from one language to
another always presupposes preservation of a certain minimum of conditions – linguistic means and
conceptual bases – which are indispensable for its adequate understanding, while every other element
which somewhat raises or decreases the expressivity of a translated text, without changing its basic
original meaning may be broadly interpreted by the translator[1][1]. This seems very logical and yet there
is a certain deficiency in it, for we all know of a specific emotional-expressive “flavour” of a text, which
provides a luxury framing for a diamond of the author’s original ideas (especially if the author is of such
calibre as Shakespeare or Milton). Change the framing – and the diamond will inevitable have a different
sparkle. But in the majority of cases this seems to be the inevitable transformation or (in the worst cases)
even the loss of a framing.
It is easier to sacrifice an emotional-expressive framing in the informative styles, where the task of a
translator boils down mainly to the transposition of a certain set of concepts that can be directly observed
and verified by the readers. However, when it comes to fiction – all reality is there in the words and in
their combination. Substitute a word or even a comma – and here comes a miracle! – reality changes as in
the looking-glass Wonderworld of Alice. In philology we call this “miracle” – the aesthetics of the text.
All efforts at interpreting literary works by linguists and literary critics are invariably directed at
establishing the ways this fleeting and ephemeral reality is created. Hence the necessity to establish a
certain hierarchy of the linguistic means used by the author in the text – for the play of light and shade on
the canvas of a literary work is also a part of a beautiful ephemeral reality and without its consideration
the whole picture shall remain absolutely flat. This incessant quest for balance in the intensity
of “colours” and the shades of meaning – the expressive and evaluative overtones – and the attempts at
comparing all linguistic means used by the author in creating a coherent meta-reality in the target
language is called in philology the linguopoetics of translation.
What is the ultimate goal of this analysis? What is the celestial city of aesthetic enjoyment it is
driving at? Generally speaking it is the connotation in the broadest sense of the word – all emotional-
expressive-evaluative overtones created in the text through a specific choice and arrangement of words. It
appears that some words have incredible semantic potential which is variously realised in the context of a
work of fiction. Additional semantic-evaluative overtones merge in the mind’s eye of the reader to create
a specific meta-reality, the mental contemplation of which leads to the enjoyment of understanding.
In this sense there are two basic types of connotations: the first type is largely responsible for the
creation of the meta-reality in the perception of the reader, the second – only enhances the overall
aesthetic sensation created by other linguistic means. Roughly speaking this means that the basic
nominative meaning of words can be either broadened in the context, acquiring additional shades of
meanings and evaluative tints in a specific word surrounding or, contrariwise, – contextually narrowed,
i.e. used either terminologically or purely expressively – for the sake of aesthetic decoration or
enhancement of the semantic and evaluative scope of other words and phrases or bringing forward a
particular concept or an idea. Let me first adduce and briefly consider a couple of the English extracts to
illustrate the stated dichotomy and then proceed with a detailed analysis of the approaches to the
translation of connotative elements from one language to another.
*
In the beginning of John Milton’s Paradise Lost there is a description of Hell:
Seest thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde,
The seat of desolation, voyd of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves,
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
And reassembling our afflicted Powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire Calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from Hope,
If not what resolution from despair.
In this extract there are two word-combinations which give a very succinct and emotional description
of hell – a sort of quintessence of the whole description – seat of desolation anddire calamity. If we
compare these two by the degree expressivity and semantic-emotional potential, it appears that the first
one mentioned here is much richer in semantic potential than the second one – semantically it combines
the description of the abode of the damned and its principal feature – wildness and desolation.
Stylistically this image is strengthened by the figure of amplification with the elements of definition in the
beginning of the microcontext (Seest thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde, / The seat of desolation,
voyd of light) and the figure of correction at the end of it (Save what the glimmering of these livid flames /
Casts pale and dreadful). The centre of the description is the metaphoric phrase the seat of desolation,
which makes a part both of the first and of the second figure. This specific position of the attributive
phrase, the obscure characteristics of the denotation and also indirect association with the biblical
phrase abomination of desolation make this phrase highly connotative in the first sense that we have
mentioned above.
An obvious example of the second type of connotation could be found in the sentence He was
sweating from an avowedly insane bicycle trip where the word avowedly does not realise its semantic
potential to the full and is used here only to emphasise the intensity of the bicycle ride.
These are my brief illustrations of the two types of connotations that philologists have to deal with in
the translation of fiction. The success of the translation would in many respects depend on the correct
estimation of the role of a connotative element in the aesthetic entirety of a literary text. Not infrequently
such an element would stand in the centre of a poetic image functioning as a kind of a reflective surface
modulating through its various contextual shades of meaning, all other words in a piece of writing. Such
cases are a great challenge for a translator for it is surely very difficult to find in the target language a
word or a combination of words that would have exactly the same semantic implication and expressiveevaluative“aura” as in the source language.
Let us consider a rather successful attempt made along these lines by an acclaimed translator of
Alexander S. Pushkin – professor Walter Arndt – in transferring the poem“Echo” by a renowned Russian
poet into English:
ЭХО
ECHO
Ревет ли зверь в лесу
глухом,
Трубит ли рог, гремит ли
гром,
Поет ли дева за холмом –
На всякий звук
Свой отклик в воздухе
пустом
Родишь ты вдруг.
Where beasts in trackless forest
wail
Where horns intone, where
thunders flail,
Or maiden chants in yonder vale
–
To every cry
Through empty air you never
fail
To speed reply.
Ты внемлешь грохоту
громов,
И гласу бури и валов,
И крику сельских пастухов
–
И шлешь ответ;
Тебе ж нет отзыва... Таков
И ты поэт!
You listen to the thunder knells,
The voice of gales and ocean
swells,
The shepherd’s hail in hill and
dells
And you requite;
But unrequited stay ... This
spells
The poet’s plight.
The centre of a poetic image in this Russian poem is in the last lines where the reverberative nature
of a poet’s mind is directly compared to the personified sound-reflective echo. Personification allows
Pushkin to introduce at the very end of the poem a sort of a new reflective edge which casts a very
specific shade of meaning practically on every word in the poem. Demonstrative pronoun таков as it
were generalises the image converging different sides of it into a narrow compass which are then reapplied to the figure of a poet. As a result nearly every word in the beginning of the poem acquires a
double implication: one referring to the echo and the other – to the poet.
It appears therefore that the main difficulty in translating this poem lies in the creation of a specific
type of polyphony and personification which are contained in the last two lines:
И шлешь ответ;
Тебе ж нет отзыва... Таков
И ты поэт!
The word ответ is probably used here in its most general meaning registered in The Dictionary of the
Russian
Language
compiled
by S.I.Ozhegov: “Ответ – реакция, отклик начтон., действие, выражающее отношение к чему-н”. This meaning is broad enough to be applied to
many a phenomena connected with a reaction of human beings to events or actions and is conducive to
the polyphonic expression of a poetic image of personified echo.
The
word отзыв, according
to
the
same
dictionary,
means “отклик, отзвук(ответное чувство на что-н)”. While the word отзыв, which is used in the
dictionary as the closest synonym of the word отзыв is directly connected with the sound
reflection:“отражение звука, эхо”.
Thus, the translator had to be very inventive and careful to preserve the central polyphonic image on
which in fact rests the whole poem. The Russian words ответ andотзыв are close synonyms and there
is hardly any observable difference between them in this context. However if we compare their basic
nominative meanings we shall notice that the word ответ would be more frequently used either in the
neutral or the formal style (ответна письмо, ответ на зявление) and it also presupposes a question to
which a certain response is given (ответ на поставленный вопрос), while the the word отзыв in the
stated meaning would be used figuratively, built on top of the basic meaning of this word –
отражение звука; эхо; звук, доносящийся издалека. This difference is only very delicately realised in
the poem – for the word ответ closely the implied call or address of the shepherds:
И крику сельских пастухов –
И шлешь ответ;
Another similar instance is found in the first stanza – but in a much broader meaning than merely a
reply to an address:
На всякий звук
Свой отклик в воздухе пустом
Родишь ты вдруг.
In the English translation by Walter Arndt these minor differences between the
wordsотклик, ответ and отзыв were reflected nearly exactly, and, which is probably most important
here, the English words were chosen in such a way that their semantic potential would be the broadest and
could be amply realised in the contextual polyphony. First, a more general word reply is used, which suits
this context to perfection, for according to the OED it simultaneously realises four of its meanings
creating the first sonorous polyphonic accord:
1.To respond by some gesture, act, or performance;
2.To return a sound; to echo.
3.To make counter-answer;
4.To return as an answer; to say in reply.
Then comes a finer distinction between ответ and отзыв. We believe it would be very difficult to
find anything better than the opposition of a rather formal literary verb to requiteand the past
participle unrequited, for the difference between them is not in the mere negation of the action expressed
by the verb to requite. Being nearly adjectivised in the process of conversion the word unrequited has
acquired quite a few semantic features sufficient for the expression of the fine difference between the
Russian words ответ andотзыв.
The idea of an answer to a greeting which is implied by the opposition крик vs. ответ:
И крику сельских пастухов –
И шлешь ответ;
is sufficiently expressed by the opposition of the English rather archaic opposition hail vs.requite.
The contexts adduced in the OED are a sufficient proof of this fact:
Requite – To salute (one) in return. Obs. rare.
1590 Spenser, They him saluted, standing far afore; Who, well them greeting,
humbly did requight.
1591 Lowly they him saluted in meeke wise; But he..scarce vouchsafte
them to requite.
The implied here idea of an answer to a question (or rather an echo question to a question) is also
expressed in this word – although in a rather formal way. OED:
Requite – To repay with the like;
1548 Udall, Jesus..requited their question with an other.
The idea of action which shows a particular attitude to something, a reaction of some kind expressed
by the Russian word ответ is undoubtedly revealed by the English verb to requiteas well (although
probably in a rather specific way, for it presupposes a very particular type of reaction – it rather means
amends, giving back or repayment than a verbal reaction or reverberation which is implied in this poem.
OED:
Requite – 1. trans. To repay, make return for, reward (a kindness, service, etc.).
b. To repay, make retaliation or return for, to avenge (a wrong, injury, etc.).
2. To repay, make return to (one) for some service, etc.
This implication is rather unusual in this context: the act of requital always means returning
somebody’s good or bad with the same. Thus we know of requiting somebody’s love or wrong or a
service of some kind. But it is not a neutral response expressed by the Russian word ответ. However
this additional expressive shade is rather weak in the context of the poem and is not supported by any of
the words used in the previous lines.
The word unrequited as we have already mentioned is not entirely a negation of the act of requiting
in all its meanings, although the opposition is almost exact. The principal implication of the past
participle unrequited – is unrewarded, unthanked, unrecognised, unrecompensed[2][2]. This introduces
rather strongly a shade of meaning which is only partially (if at all) expressed by the Russian
word отзыв in this poem (отзыв о книге,отзыв о фильме). The figurative meaning of the
word отзыв here – that of a sound reflection, an echo – is not realised in the translation at all.
In fact the only way for the reader to feel the implication of the figurative echo in this context and to
complete in his mind’s eye the polyphonic image of the echo-reflection-response-reward in the last lines
of the poem is to pay attention to the logical oppositionrequite vs. unrequited created by Walter Arndt in
the English text as a compensation for the absence of the relevant correlate for the word отзыв. The
verb requite being much broader in meaning and richer in connotations than its negative counterpart
serves as a kind of a mirror projecting on to the word unrequited part of its emotional-expressiveevaluative shades and as a result the intended polyphony was not broken in spite of the insufficient for
this purposes semantic scope of the word unrequited.
All other images used by Pushkin in his poem are directly connected with sound-production and
circle around the image of an echo, enhanced by a number of expressive means, such as alliteration,
iambic cadence strengthening the sound-imitative ends of lines. Almost all of these expressive means
were neatly reproduced in the English variant.
Semantic polyphony is certainly a powerful means of linguopoetic expression. However it would be
a mistake to think that it would always play the central role in a work of fiction. Not infrequently its part
in a literary text is rather modest and is reduced to an expressive enhancement of the core poetic image or
even less than that – to an ephemeral “seasoning” of the text with multiple associations which are not
directly relevant for the expression of the principal aesthetic idea. Let us consider some of the examples
to see how the translators cope with the task of finding the relevant “expressive framing” for such cases.
Expressive polyphony in the translation
As we have already stated above emotional connotations play the role of a sort of expressive enclosure
in a work of fiction giving its principal contextual features additional force and prominence. To translate
this “ephemeral emotional-expressive mist” is an arduous task, one of the main dangers of it is a “Scilla
and Charybdis alternative” where the translator should avoid giving either too much or too little of what
he finds in the original.
There is also another difficulty, which would require of a translator the application of all his creative
potential. We mean those cases when the equivalent of the emotional-expressive devices used in the
source language simply does not exist in the target language and to preserve the existing expressive
background the translator needs either to provide a complex system of semiotic means that would create
the required association with the necessary expressive context, on the one hand, (relying, as it were, on
the erudition of the reader, hoping that he might have heard something about the uneducated speech of the
Russian peasants, or the gypsies or the English soldiers in the docks or plenty of other similar contexts),
or, on the other hand, create his own system of expressive means providing the necessary emotionalexpressive-evaluative background enhancing the aesthetic centre of the translated work of fiction.
A similar approach should be exercised in reference to the translation of those elements of the text
which have the greatest semantic potential and therefore create a peculiar polyphonic milieu around
which form invariable other micropictures and traits and features of the imaginable reality created by the
author in the context as he plays with shades of meaning and connotations. The point is that such
elements have a very definite scope of polyphonic shades which should be very carefully preserved in the
translation – not a “spec” can be added or removed from this picture lest it would change its emotional
and aesthetic charge. Some words and word combinations can be interpreted more or less precisely
because their polyphonic capabilities are relatively limited and one allegoric image used by the author
stands exactly for some particular notion or object of reality. At the same time there are other linguistic
units in the source text which could be interpreted this way or that way or in so many ways together and
the translator is not in a position to break this kaleidoscopic image where so many shades of meaning and
emotional tints are expressed simultaneously. And any attempt at precision in such cases would be a
violation of the author’s original idea. In such cases the translator needs to estimate the semiotic potential
of a translated linguistic unit and express it accordingly in the target language allowing the reader to
enjoy “the rainbow effect” of concurrent shades of meanings and not the originality of the translator’s
one-way interpretation of the author’s image.
Let us consider some examples from the famous works of fiction to see if this preconceived
linguopoetic stance dictating what the translator should or should not do in respect to the author’s
intentions is really observed by the translators in their work.
In our fist extract we are going to consider one of the most difficult cases for a translator when a
word or a word combination polyphonically realizes several meanings or shades of meanings at a time. In
Shakespeare’s tragedy Hamlet there is an episode when Hamlet learns from the ghost of his father who
was his father’s real murderer. Hamlet becomes furious and vindictive and, overwhelmed with emotion,
bursts into a soliloquy of extreme emotional tension variously commenting and reinterpreting the ghost’s
last phrase:
GHOST ...
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.
Exit
HAMLET
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix’d with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark:
Writing
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is ‘Adieu, adieu! remember me.’
I have sworn ’t.
MARCELLUS
[Within] My lord, my lord,-HORATIO
MARCELLUS [Within]
Lord Hamlet,-HORATIO [Within]
Heaven secure him!
HAMLET
So be it!
One may detect at least five elements in this extract which are as it were polyphonically loaded:
1. Remember thee (me)!
2. In this distracted globe.
3. And thy commandment all alone shall live
4. Heaven secure him!
5. So be it!
It does not seem to be very difficult to translate phrases 1,3,4,5. Purely lexically the first, the fourth
and the fifth ones can be preserved as they are. The only thing which is required of a translator in this
case is a delicate syntactic management of the phrases – for the commandment Remember me! is first
addressed by the ghost to Hamlet, then it is reflectively pronounced by Hamlet himself and afterwards
menacingly addressed by Hamlet to his uncle whom he distantly observes at the court festivities through a
window or an opening in a wall or a roof. The same applies to the phrase Heaven secure him! pronounced
by Horatio, and while addressed to Hamlet – in Hamlet’s ears acquires a different sounding – a sort of an
echo to his threat, to which he murmurs So be it! which again could either be applied to the phraseHeaven
secure him! addressed to Hamlet or to the same phrase addressed to Claudius.
The phrase thy commandment all alone shall live in this context is indirectly suggestive of the similar
biblical phrase as in The Book of Proverbs 6:20 of the King James Version:
My son, keep thy father’s commandment
The greatest difficulty presents the translation of the second phrase – in this distracted globe where
the word globe could be understood as either the earth, kingdom or the world, on the one hand or
Hamlet’s own head, on the other. The descriptive adjective distracted can be equally applied to both.
When used with the word globe as the kingdom it means“perplexed or confused by conflicting interests;
torn or disordered by dissension or the like”(OED), while when it refers to Hamlet’s own head (or rather
his distressed state of mind) it means “much confused or troubled in mind; having, or showing, great
mental disturbance or perplexity” (OED). In Hamlet’s mouth this phrase actually realises both these
meanings. Let us compare some of the more famous Russian translation of this episode to see if the
described polyphony is preserved:
О небо! О земля! Кого в
придачу?
Быть может ад? Стой
сердце! Сердце стой!
Не подгибайтесь подо
мною, ноги!
Держитесь
прямо!Помнить о тебе?
Да, бедный дух, пока
естьпамять в шаре
Разбитом этом.
Помнить о тебе?
Я с памятной доски сотру
все знаки
Чувствительности, все
слова из книг,
Все образы, всех былей
отпечатки,
Что с детства
наблюденье занесло,
И лишь твоим
единственным веленьем
Весь том, всю книгу
мозга испишу,
Без низкой смеси. Да, как
перед Богом!
О женщина-злодейка! О
подлец!
О низость, низость с
низкою улыбкой!
Господь земли и неба! Что
еще?
Не вызвать ли и ад? Нет,
тише, тише,
Моя душа! О, не старейте
нервы!
Держите персть
возвышенно и прямо!
Мне помнить о тебе? Да,
бедный дух,
Пока есть память в
черепе моем.
Мне помнить? Да, с станиц
воспоминанья
Все прошлые рассказы я
сотру,
Все изреченья книг, все
впечатленья,
Минувшего следы, плоды
рассудка
И наблюдений юности
моей.
Твои слова, родитель
мой, одни
Пусть в книге сердца
моего живут
Без примеси других,
ничтожных слов.
Клянуся в том благими
небесами !
Где грифель мой? Я это
запишу,
Что можно улыбаться,
улыбаться
И быть мерзавцем. Если
не везде,
То достоверно, в Дании.
(Пишет)
Готово, дядя. А теперь
дивиз мой:
“Прощай, прощай и
помни обо мне”.
Я в том клянусь.
ГОРАЦИО И МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Принц! Принц!
МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Принц Гамлет!
ГОРАЦИО
(за сценой)
Небо
Да хранит его!
ГАМЛЕТ
Да будет так.
(Перевод Б.Пастернака)
О, женщина преступная!
Злодей,
Злодей, смеющийся,
проклятый изверг!
Где мой бумажник?
Запишу, что можно
С улыбкой вечною
злодеем быть,
По крайней мере в Дании
возможно.
(Пишет)
Здесь, дядуюшка. Теперь
пароль и отзыв:
“Прощай, прощай и помни
обо мне!”
Я поклялся.
ГОРАЦИО И МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Принц! Принц!
МАРЦЕЛЛО
(за сценой)
Принц Гамлет!
ГОРАЦИО
(за сценой)
Бог да защитит вас!
ГАМЛЕТ
Аминь!
(Перевод А.Кронберга)
О, вы, все силы неба! О,
земля! Еще что?
Уж не призвать ли ад?
Фу! Тише, тише, сердце!
А вы, не разом
одряхлейте, мышцы,
Но силы мне придайте!
Помнить о тебе?
Да, бедный дух, покуда в
этой голове
Растерянной есть
память. Помнить о тебе?
Да, с памяти страниц
сотру я все заметы
Пустые, вздорные, все
книжные реченья,
Все образы и все былые
впечатленья,
Что наблюдательность и
юность в ней вписали;
И лишь твое веление
одно,
Без примеси понятий
низких, будет
Жить в книге мозга
моего; да как пред небом!
О, женщина порочная!
Войска небесные! Земля!
Еще что?
Позвать и ад? Тьфу! Тише,
сердце, тише!
Мгновенно не дряхлейте
мыщцы; вы
Меня несите твердо!
Помнить? Помнить?
Да, бедный дух, пока
сидит здесь память,
В безумном этом
шаре.Помнить, помнить?
Да, я со списка памяти
сотру
Пустые, вздорные заметки,
все,
Что вычитал, увидел иль
отметил,
Все то, что наблюдение и
юность
Туда вписали. Лишь один
приказ твой,
Без всяких низких
примесей, теперь
Жить будет в книге мозга,
я клянусь!
О гибельная женщина!
О, изверг, улыбающийся
изверг,
Проклятый изверг!
Книжка где? Заметить надо,
Что можно улыбаться,
улыбаться
И все ж быть извергом;
уж в Дании наверно
Оно возможно.
(Пишет)
Здесь ты, дядя. –
Лозунг мой
Теперь: “Прости, прости!
И помни обо мне”.
Я поклялся.
ГОРАЦИО И МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Принц! Принц!
МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Принц Гамлет!
ГОРАЦИО
(за сценой)
Бог его храни.
ГАМЛЕТ
Да будет так!
(Перевод К.Р.)
Подлец! Подлец с
улыбкою! Проклятый!
Таблички где? Я должен
записать,
Что можно улыбаться,
улыбаться
И подлецом быть. Знаю
твердо я,
Что в Дании наверно так
бывает.
(Пишет)
Так, дядя, здесь вы. Ну
теперь девиз мой:
“Прощай, прощай и помни
обо мне!”
Поклялся я.
ГОРАЦИО И МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Милорд, милорд, милорд!
МАРЦЕЛЛ
(за сценой)
Лорд Гамлет!
ГОРАЦИО
(за сценой)
Небо сохрани его!
ГАМЛЕТ
Да будет так.
(Перевод А. Радловой)
Without going too deeply into the merits and faults of every translation let us briefly concentrate on
the polyphonic lines and see if their “multi-layer” semantic structure was preserved.
In this
globe.
пока есть память в шаре //
Разбитом этом. (Б.Пастернак)
Пока есть память в
черепе моем. (А.Кронберг)
distracted
покуда в этой голове //
Растерянной есть память.
(К.Р.)
пока сидит здесь память, //
В безумном этом шаре.
(А.Радлова)
Out of the four variants of the translation only the last one made by A.Radlova seems to be the most
faithful to the original: the Russian word безумный can be applied both to a man and to the world, while
the word шар can be metaphorically used to mean the world and tothe human head. The original
polyphony therefore appears to be preserved in her translation:
И лишь твоим единственным
веленьем
Весь том, всю книгу мозга
испишу (Пастернак)
And thy
Твои слова, родитель мой,
commandment all alone одни
Пусть в книге сердца моего
shall live
живут (Кронберг)
И лишь твое веление одно,
Без примеси понятий низких,
будет
Жить в книге мозга моего;
(К.Р.)
Лишь один приказ твой,
Без всяких низких примесей,
теперь
Жить будет в книге мозга, я
клянусь! (А.Радлова)
None
of
the
translators
alluded
to
the
Russian
biblical
expression “заповедь отца” (Сынмой! Храни заповедь отца...) which can probably be accounted for by
the strong religious implication of the Russian word заповедь, while in the English original this allusion
is felt but scarcely. The word commandment, although having as strong inherent religious connotation as
the Russian word заповедь, was probably used by Shakespeare in this context to increase solemnity in
Hamlet’s tone of voice. The English word appears to be less abstract, less generalising than the
corresponding Russian word. The latter can be used broadly enough to mean a particular philosophical
position or a credo and reproducing it with this implication would mean bringing undesirable shades of
meaning into the context. It appears therefore that a very subtle biblical implication that we observe in
this context created mainly through the use of the phrase thy commandment could not be adequately
reproduced in the Russian translation. But the linguopoetic significance of this implication being as small
as it is in this context, the loss of it does not affect considerably the aesthetic qualities of the overall
context.
Out of the four translations of this extract – Kronberg’s variant appears to be more successful than
the others. Boris Pasternak’s твоим ... веленьем ... всю книгу мозгаиспишу is odd and outrageous.
K.R.’s твое веление ... будет жить в книге мозгамоего is better but a highly unconventional Russian
word combination книга мозга creating undesirable physiological associations makes the whole phrase
equally unacceptable. The Russian word сердце (heart) appears to be more conducive to the expression of
the evaluative meaning which is required in this context, since the word brain used by Hamlet actually
means memory and a strong desire to take revenge:
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain...
The third connotative element that we mentioned in the beginning is the call Heaven secure
him! uttered by Horatio in reply to the mentioning of Hamlet’s name by Marcellus – and Hamlet’s
response So be it! which logically and emotionally completes the monologue. In our opinion all the four
translators coped with their task successfully enough, for in all of them, as in the original, the two phrases
in equal measure apply to Hamlet and to his uncle after Hamlet gave a promise of revenge:
HORATIO [Within]
Heaven secure him!
HAMLET
So be it!
Небо//Да хранит его! ...
Да будет так. (Б.Пастернак)
Бог да защитит вас! ...
Аминь!
(А.Кронберг)
Бог его храни.
... Да будет так! (Перевод К.Р.)
Небо сохрани его!
... Да будет так.
(А. Радлова)
Another interesting case of polyphony is King Claudius’s speech shortly after the death of Hamlet’s
father and the marriage between his uncle Claudius and his mother Gertrude the Queen in Act I, Scene II
of Shakespear’s Hamlet:
KING CLAUDIUS
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death
The memory be green, and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe,
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Have we, as ’twere with a defeated joy,-With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,-Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr’d
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
This extract abounds in emotional-expressive means – semantic contrasts, inversive constructions,
extended parenthetical insertions, sound repetitions, internal rhymes and polyphony of linguistic means –
which all serve one single purpose: to expose the King’s hypocrisy in his attempt to justify his hasty
marrying the dowager Queen.
Again, as in the previous extract, our aim is not an exhaustive linguopoetic analysis of this piece but
an estimation of how the translators manage (or on the contrary fail) to transpose such an extremely subtle
and transitory layer of the literary text’s structure as expressive polyphonic shades.
There were several occasions in this speech when Claudius in a very oblique way hints at his
distracted state of mind and his relationship with Hamlet. A case in point is the line in the beginning of
the King’s public statement concerning his decision to marry Gertrude the Queen:
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
According to the definition of the Oxford English Dictionary the word jointress, being formed from
the obsolete jointer (a joint possessor; one who holds a jointure) means “a widow who holds a jointure; a
dowager” (OED). The morphological structure of both words is rather transparent which allows authors to
play with their common root join and therefore use the word in such a way that its broader meaning is
realised in the context[3][3]. The wordstate that is used in the same line in association with the
word jointer on the surface meansthe country, the State of Denmark which at that time was in the state of
war with Norway. However in this context it could certainly also mean a particular “condition (of mind or
feeling); the mental or emotional condition in which a person finds himself at a particular time”(OED). In
this sense the adjective warlike, meaning martial, bellicose, unpacific, contentious could in fact be equally
applied to both meanings of the word state.
After marrying Gertrude Claudius was constantly opposed by Hamlet who did not fail to pester his
uncle with all sorts of venomous remarks. This certainly troubled the new king a lot, however he could
not openly oppose him but secretly cherished the idea of doing away with his nephew and occasionally
added to his utterances the implication of being in the state of secret war with Hamlet (see also later in the
same speech: “...by our late dear brother’s death our state to be disjoint and out of frame...”). Let us see
if this subtle polyphony is expressed in some of the most famous translations of Shakespeare’s tragedy:
С тем и решили мы в
супруги взять
Сестру и королеву нашу,
Наследницу военных
рубежей,
Со смешанными
чувствами печали
И радости, с улыбкой и в
Итак – сестру, теперь же
королеву,
Наследницу воинственной
страны,
Мы нарекли возлюбленной
супругой
С восторгом, так сказать,
лишенным силы,
слезах.
При этом шаге мы не
погнушались
Содействием советников,
во всем
Нам давших одобренье.
Всем спасибо.
...
Что после смерти
братиной у нас
Развал в стране и все в
разъединенье,
(Б.Пастернак)
И вот, доныне
Сестру, теперь же
королеву нашу,
Владычицу страны, как
вдовьего удела, –
Мы словно с радостью,
подавленной в душе,
С улыбкою в одном
глазу, в другом с слезами,
С стенаньем свадебным, с
весельем погребальным,
Уравновесив горе и
восторг, –
В супруги взяли. Мы не
шли наперекор
Мудрейшим между вас, и
этот шаг они
Одобрили. За все
благодарим.
...
Что смерть покойного
нам дорогого брата
Наш край в разлад
повергла и упадок.
(К.Р.)
С слезой в очах и с ясною
улыбкой,
Веселый гимн запев при
гробе брата,
За упокой при брачном
алтаре,
И на весах души развесив
ровно
Веселье и печаль. Мы
поступили
Согласно вашей воле,
одобрившей
Наш брак, – и мы за все
благодарим!
...
Иль что со смертью
дорогого нам
От дел земных почившего
Гамлета
Распались связь и сила
королевства...
(А.Кронберг)
Поэтому мы с радостью
неполной –
В одном глазу слеза, в
другом улыбка –
Смешав со свадьбой
похоронный плач
И погребенье с свадебным
весельем,
Уравновесив счастье и
печаль, –
Мы взяли в жены королеву
нашу,
Что некогда сестрою нам
была,
Наследницу воинственной
страны.
И в этом поступили мы
согласно
Советам вашим мудрым,
что свободно
Вы дали нам. За все
благодарим.
...
... смерть нам дорогого
брата ввергла
В расстройство и упадок
королевство.
(А.Радлова)
It appears that none of the translations adduced here expresses the “lateral” polyphonic implication of
the word jointress, neither is the polyphony of the word state realised in the Russian translation. As far as
the line our state to be disjoint and out of frame is concerned Boris Pasternak and K.R. in our opinion
found the best variant possible conveying the idea of antagonism and discord between Hamlet and
Claudius – the Russian words разлад andразъединенье express this idea well enough. Kronberg’s
phrase распались связь и силакоролевства is probably too abstract to imply this concrete shade of
hostility between the members of the family, while Radlova’s расстройство и упадок does not have this
implication at all.
Decorative and socio-cultural expressivity
In the preceding parts of this article I have introduced the division of contextual connotations into
two big classes which I provisionally described as broad or polyphonic, on the one hand, and narrow or
expressive, on the other. In this section I shall consider some examples of the second type of connotations
and briefly discuss how these emotional-expressive and decorative elements are rendered from one
language into another.
These emotional expressive “clangors” are often used by the translators as a field for applying their
creative hand in a more or less uninhibited way, for linguopoetically these elements are subservient to
others which form the core of the overall aesthetic image of a literary text. Curiously enough such
frivolities could even be found in the Holy Scriptures where tampering with the original Hebrew text was
strictly prohibited and condemned. But due to their purely expressive nature these “aesthetic
innovations” in the English Bible of 1611 hardly blurred the original meaning and had almost exclusively
a decorative force like Psalms 38 and 42 of the King James Bible:
Ps 42:1 As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so
panteth my soul after thee, O God.
The verb to pant in this beautiful comparison realises two of its meanings – direct and figurative: “to
gasp (for air, water, etc.); hence fig. To long or wish with breathless eagerness; to gasp with desire; to
yearn (for, after, or to with inf.) OED”. If we compare it with another line several Psalms earlier the
originality of the word play implicitly contained in Psalm 42 would immediately “spring to our eyes and
ears”:
Ps 38:10 My heart panteth, my strength faileth me: as for the light of mine eyes, it also is
gone from me.
The homophony hart – heart semantically supported by the word soul which collocates with the
same verb for all three nouns – to pant – creates a wonderful euphony which makes these two lines
unforgettable. It should be admitted however that this linguistic frivolity of the English translators does
not in any way affect the original meaning and has a purely expressive power, the sole function of which
was to attract the reader’s attention to this particular comparison and thereby make it more memorable.
However no such expressivity is found in the Russian synodal translation of the Bible, where the
corresponding Russian words probably had a smaller homophonic potential than their English
counterparts:
Псалом 42:1 Как лань желает к потокам воды, так желает душа моя к Тебе, Боже!
Псалом 38:10 Сердце мое трепещет; оставила меня сила моя и свет очей моих, – и
того нет у меня.
*
There is a view (and not entirely erroneous one) that statistics does not mean much in the estimation
of a literary text’s aesthetic merits. However if a statistic analysis discovers that a certain linguistic unit is
used extremely often in a piece of artistic writing and in about 50 or 70% of cases it occurs in one and the
same meaning with one and the same implication a researcher has every ground to become suspicious
about such unit’s linguopoetic significance, even if the word is registered in the dictionary with all sorts
of stylistic markers indicating its“glorious service-record”, such as the word multitude for example which
is marked in the dictionary as biblical, or the adverb and the adjective meet with a similar stylistic feature.
Such words would fulfil a purely expressive function in the text and transferring them into a different
language usually is not a very great difficulty for the experienced translator.
The word multitude occurs more than 80 times in the New Testament and nearly in all those cases it
means a great number of people. In the Russian version of the Bible (the synodal translation) this word is
almost exclusively rendered through the words народ,множество народа, множество людей. But
even in the Old Testament where the wordmultitude is used in various contexts to imply more
broadly numerousness and not just a crowd or a host – in the Russian text it is expressed uniformly
through a fairly inexpressive word множество, which however acquired a certain stylistic elevation in
such combinations as множество щедрот, множество милости, множество нечестия, etc.
The number of such expressive units in a literary text can be exceedingly great. Taken together they
create a unique emotional atmosphere without which a piece of writing would contain nothing but a
record of certain facts of doubtful conceptual or aesthetic significance. Inability to find similarly
expressive units in the target language in the course of translation may end up with a complete failure to
render “the emotional spirit” of the original narration which in many cases appears to be the
only “device” turning a trivial enough uneventful story with practically no philosophic generalisations
into a masterpiece of literary writing.
Not infrequently such domineering expressivity is achieved through the reproduction of dialectal
peculiarities and speech habits of uneducated peasants, soldiers, sailors or some other social groups of a
speech community. The whole pleasure and enjoyments from the reading of such texts lies in the
comprehension of the implied integrated auditory image incorporating local speech characteristics of
different personages of a literary text. The choice of a locally specific vocabulary and syntactic
arrangement of lexical units in the sentence is invariably associated with a particular mode of enunciation
and articulatory peculiarities and it is usually a great difficulty for a translator to find such lexical
correlates in the target language that would create a similar auditory effect.
Let me consider an example – two English translations of Anton Chekhov’s short
story“Святою ночью” (On the Sacred Night).
On the Easter Eve some man intends to cross the river by a ferry. While the ferry is taking him to the
other side of the river where a festive celebration of Christ’s resurrection in the church has already begun,
he is talking to the monk who laments the death of his friend – a talented writer of akaphists. But shortly
before this man embarks on a ferry he exchanges a couple of words with a peasant who stands next to him
on the river bank:
– Как, однако,
долго нет парома! –
сказал я.
– А пора ему
быть, – ответил мне
силуэт.
–
Ты
тоже
дожидаешься
парома?
– Нет, я так ...
зевнул мужик, –
люминации
дожидаюсь. Поехал
бы, да, признаться,
пятачка на паром
нет.
– Я тебе дам
пятачок.
–
Нет,
благодарим
покорно ... Ужо на
этот пятачок ты за
меня
там
в
монастыре свечку
поставь ... Этак
любопытней будет,
а я и тут постою.
‘How long the
ferry-boat
is
in
coming!’ I said.
‘It is time it was
here,’ the silhouette
answered.
‘You are waiting
for the ferry-boat,
too?’
‘No I am not,’
yawned the peasant-‘I am waiting for the
illumination. I should
have gone, but to tell
you the truth, I
haven’t the five
kopecks for the
ferry,’
‘I’ll give you the
five kopecks.’
‘No; I humbly
thank you. . . . With
that five kopecks put
up a candle for me
over there in the
monastery. . . . That
will
be
more
‘How slow the ferry
is in coming!’ I said.
‘It is time it was
here,’ answered the
dark figure.
‘Are you waiting
for it, too?’
‘No; I am just
waiting.’ yawned the
peasant. ‘I want to see
the ‘lumination. I
would go across, only
I haven’t five copecks
for the ferry.’
‘I’ll give you five
copecks.’
‘No, thank you
kindly; you can keep
them and burn a
candle for me when
you
reach
the
monastery. It will be
better so, and I will
stand here. And that
ferry-boat
hasn’t
come yet! Has it
sunk?’
Скажи на милость, interesting, and I will
(Wordsworth
нет парома! Словно stand here. What can Classics)
в воду канул!
it mean, no ferryboat, as though it had
sunk in the water!’
(Translated by
Constance Garnett,
1919)
This dialogue is only lightly marked by the local speech characteristics. Occasional expressive
elements in the original Russian text featuring the peasant and his interlocutor are translated mostly by
means of compensation. The peasant is trying to be polite to the stranger but his speech is slow and lazy
and some of his remarks are logically incomplete and incomprehensible. For the Russian reader such
features of speech are purely expressive – they do not carry any other information except the mood and
the disposition of a speaker and are in fact very familiar to all of us:
– Ты тоже дожидаешься парома?
– Нет, я так ... зевнул мужик, ...
...
– Я тебе дам пятачок.
– Нет, благодарим покорно ... Ужо на этот пятачок ты за меня там в
монастыре свечку поставь ... Этак любопытней будет, а я и тут
постою. Скажи на милость, нет парома! Словно в воду канул!
The reply “Нет я так ...” is a sort of a conversational sleech which would usually leave the
interlocutor baffled and confused. The translation of Constance Garnett – No, I am not –does not express
this implication at all. Her variant sounds as a very categorical statement, which could hardly be followed
by a yawn as we observe in this context. Wordsworth Classics’ translation seems to be more successful in
this respect – ‘No; I am just waiting.’ yawned the peasant creates nearly the same effect as the Russian
utterance does.
Constance Garnett’s variant for the phrase благодарим покорно – I humbly thank you – is
contextually inconsistent. The Oxford English Dictionary on CD-Rom gives three examples with this
adverbial phrase and all of them imply the expression of gratitude to a socially superior person:
1705 De Foe in Lett. Lit. Men (Camden) 322, I humbly thank your Lordship for the freedom of
access you were pleas’d to give my messenger.
1611 Middleton & Dekker Roaring Girl ii. i, I humbly thank your good mistresship.
1585 Hatton in Ld. Campbell Chancellors (1857) II. xlv. 273, I most humbly thank your
sacred Majesty for your two late recomfortations.
In the 19th century the phrase благодарю покорно was just a polite way of expressing gratitude
which did not necessarily suggest a social difference of the speakers. In this sense the Wordsworth
Classics’ translation – thank you kindly – is certainly better.
Another expressive element in this extract is the Russian archaic dialectism ужо, which according to
the Dictionary of Vladimir Dal’ means later –“погодя,позже,после,как будет пора или досуг, не
теперь”. Contance Garnet, it seems, omits this element altogether. The only attempt that she makes at
somewhat colloquializing the speech of the peasant to make up for the absence of the relevant English
archaic element that would be more or less easily comprehended by the modern readers is the use of the
wrong agreement between the numeral, the noun and the pronoun: . . . . With that five kopecks put up a
candle for me over there in the monastery. . . . Although this expressive shade does not correspond to the
original, roughly speaking it could be used here purely “semiotically” to indicate the style difference
between the two speakers. Wordsworth Classics translation suggests a different solution: it transfers the
essence of this part of conversation in pure English without marking the difference in style: you can keep
them and burn a candle for me when you reach the monastery.
I assume the correct translation of this Russian expressive element into English lies somewhere in
between the two suggested variants, for neither of them is truly faithful to the original – one of them
translates the meaning without expressing inherent stylistic qualities of the lexical element in question,
while the other one completely ignores the meaning of it, obviously taking the semantic side of the
word ужо as being absolutely linguopoetically irrelevant in this context, and only suggests some other
expressive devices for the conversation.
The same concerns the peasant’s remark Этак любопытней будет, а я и тутпостою where the
word любопытно does not realize its semantics to the full and is used purely expressively, realising
several emotional shades at once. What the peasant could actually mean is not at all clear from the
context. His usage of the word любопытно could imply simultaneously more unusual, more interesting,
more adequate, better, etc. However none of these meanings is expressed clearly and distinctly in this
context and the translators were in fact free to choose the variant they preferred – and so they did. The
only tiny requirement that should have been observed by the translators of this story is that the English
word standing for the Russian любопытнее should be “semantically deficient” and somewhat unusual in
this context and bear purely attitudinal connotations – and none of the translator in fact achieves this goal:
That will be more interesting, and I will stand here. (Constance Garnett)
It will be better so, and I will stand here. (Wordsworth Classics)
However a somewhat clumsier variant of Constance Garnett seems to be more suitable for the
expression of a stylistic difference between the speakers. The same concerns the last exclamation of
impatience Скажи на милость!
On the whole the Wordsworth Classics translation of this episode sounds more refined than the
translation of Constance Garnett, but surely less expressive. However the smooth flow of the
conversation in Wordsworth Classics in correct and plain English throughout the whole dialogue allows
the reader to forget himself in the context much better than in the translation of Constance Garnett. The
latter actually makes us feel that this is not a piece of authentic English writing but a translation.
Besides, in my opinion, Wordsworth Classics made a much better preference in this short story
ignoring the expressivity of smaller episodes and concentrating on the key situation – the dialogue
between the stranger and the monk where the latter was describing humility and supreme spiritual purity
of his friend, monk Nicolas who had just died and who had been exceptionally good at writing akaphists.
The emotional and expressive essence of the description is in the combination of words depicting the
character of monk Nicolas and occasional quotations of his and other akaphists. And again the Russian
text abounds in all sorts of old-fashioned ways of expression interspersed with clerical vocabulary and
ministerial syntax. The Russian tradition of ecclesiastic writing and homiletics – particularly at the end of
the 19th century, when most of Anton Chekhov’s short stories were written – was invariably associated
with the use of Church-Slavonic – the South Slavic language into which Kyrillos and Methodos translated
the Gospels in the ninth century A.D[4]. Even at the time of Chekhov the language was extinct as
vernacular Old Bulgarian but extant as the official language of the Orthodox Church and the use of it in
the monk’s speech evoked a wonderful atmosphere of church service with its specific sumptuousness and
resplendence. The monk’s speech flows slowly and melodiously and the reader is mesmerised by the
simplicity and lucidity of ideas and solemnity of tone which the orthodox preachers would often use to
win the hearts of their parishioners.
This unique expressive feature of the text in question could hardly be adequately revealed in the
English language without alluding to the language of the English Bibles of the 16th-17thcentury (Miles
Coverdale, William Tyndale and the King James Version). This sort of stylisation was rather successfully
used in the translation of Anton Chekhov’s short story. Generally speaking the translators make the right
decision: being unable to render individual peculiarities of the monk’s speech they naturally concentrate
on creating the expressivity of a different sort: monk Ieronim speaks of the verbal beauty of his friend’s
akaphists and the translators, following his description, try to reproduce this specific beauty of expression
in the English language as well. At least for the English reader this solution seems to be perfectly justified
and certainly much better, than the necessity to force one’s way through the imperfections of the English
style in the vain attempt to reveal in general the archaic syntax and vocabulary of the source text. Besides
it seems to be perfectly in tune with Anton Chekhov’s own credo of a writer which he very clearly
explained in his letter to editor A.N. Pleshcheev on October 4, 1888: “I am afraid of those who will look
for tendenciousness between the lines and who are determined to see me either as a liberal or a
conservative. I am neither a liberal nor a conservative, neither a gradualist nor a monk nor an
indifferentist. I would like to be nothing more than a free artist, and I regret that God did not give me the
gift to be one. I hate falseness and coercion in all their forms . . . . Pharisaism, stupidity and arbitrariness
reign not merely in merchants’ houses and police stations: I see them in science, in literature, among the
young. That is why I have no particular passion for either policemen or butchers or scientists or writers or
the young. I consider brand-names and labels a prejudice. My holy of holies is the human body, health,
intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and absolute freedom, freedom from force and falseness in whatever
form they express themselves. That’s the platform I’d subscribe to if I were a great artist”.
Here comes an extract from the short story “Святою ночью” followed by the translation
of Wordsworth Classics which reads smoothly and easily in spite of occasional imperfections and
omissions:
“Николай умер! Никто другой, а Николай! Даже поверить
трудно, что его уж нет на свете!
Стою я тут на пароме и все мне
кажется, что сейчас он с берега
голос свой подаст. Чтобы мне
на пароме страшно не казалось,
он всегда приходил на берег и
окликал меня. Нарочито для
этого ночью с постели вставал.
Добрая душа! Боже, какая добрая и милостивая! У иного
человека и матери такой нет,
каким у меня был этот Николай! Спаси, господи, его душу!
Иероним взялся за канат, но
тот час же повернулся ко мне.
– Ваше благородие, а ум какой светлый! – сказал он певучим голосом. – Какой язык благозвучный и сладкий! Именно,
как вот сейчас будут петь в заутрени:“О, любезнаго! о, сладчайшего твоего гласа!” Кроме
всех прочих человеческих качеств, в нем был еще и дар
необычайный!
– Какой дар? – спросил я.
Монах оглядел меня и, точно
убедившись, что мне можно
вверять тайны, весело засмеялся.
– У него был дар акафисты
писать...– сказал он. – Чудо,
господин, да и только! Вы изумитесь, ежели я вам объясню!
Отец архимандрит у нас из
московских, отец наместник в
Казанской академии кончил,
есть у нас и иеромонахи разумные, и старцы, но ведь, скажи
пожалуйста, ни одного такого
нет, чтобы писать умел, а Николай, простой монах, иеродьякон, нигде не обучался и
даже видимости наружной не
имел, а писал! Чудо! Истинно
чудо!
Иероним всплеснул руками и,
... it was Nicolas who died –
no one else but Nicolas! It is
hard to believe that he is no
longer on earth. As I stand here
now on the ferry, it seems to me
as if every moment I should
hear his voice from the shore.
He always came down to the
river and called to me so that I
should not feel lonely on the
ferry. He used to leave his bed at
night on purpose to do it. He
was so good. Oh, dear, how
good and kind he was! Even a
mother is not to other men what
Nicolas was to me. Have mercy
on his soul, O Lord!”
Jerome gave the cable a pull,
but immediately turned to me
again:
‘Your honour, how bright his
mind was!’ he said softly. ‘How
sweet and musical his voice
was! Just such a voice as they
would sing of now at
mass: “Oh, most kind, most
comforting is Thy voice.” And,
above all, other human qualities,
he had one extraordinary gift.’
‘What gift?’ I asked.
The monk glanced at me and,
as if assured that he could
entrust me with a secret, said,
laughing gaily:
‘He had the gift of writing
akaphists!’ he said. ‘It was a
miracle, sir, nothing less. You
will be astonished when I tell
you about it. Our father
archimandrite comes from
Moscow, our father vicar has
studied in Kazan, we have wise
monks and elders, and yet –
what do you think? – no one of
them can write. And Nicolas, a
plain monk, a deacon, who
never learnt anything and had
nothing to show – he could
write! It was a miracle, truly a
совсем забыв про канат, продолжал с увлечением:
– Отец наместник затрудняется проповеди составлять; когда историю монастыря писал,
то всю братию загонял и раз
десять в город ездил, а Николай
акафисты писал! Акафисты!
Это не то что проповедь или
история!
– А разве акафисты трудно
писать? – спросил я.
– Большая трудность... –
покрутил головой Иероним. –
Тут и мудростью и святостью
ничего не поделаешь, ежели
бог дара не дал. Монахи,
которые
не
понимающие,
рассуждают, что для этого
нужно только знать житие
святого, которому пишешь, да с
прочими
акафистами
соображаться. Но это, господин, неправильно. Оно,
конечно, кто пишет акафист,
тот должен знать житие до
чрезвычайности, до последней
самомалейшей точки. Ну и
соображаться с прочими акафистами нужно, как где начать
и о чем писать. К примеру сказать вам, первый кондак везде
начинается
с “возбранный” или“избранный”... Первый икос завсегда
надо начинать с ангела. В
акафисте
к
Иисусу
Сладчайшему, ежели интересуетесь,
он
начинается
так: “Ангелов творче и господи
сил”, в акафисте к пресвятой
богородице: “Ангел предстатель с небесе послан бысть”, к
Николаю Чудотворцу:“Ангела
образом,
земнаго
суща
естеством” и прочее. Везде с
ангела начинается. Конечно,
без того нельзя, чтобы не
соображаться, но главное ведь
не в житии, не в соответствии с
прочим, а в красоте и сладости.
Нужно, чтоб все было стройно,
кратко и обстоятельно. Надо.
Чтоб в каждой строчечке была
мягкость, ласковость и нежность, чтоб ни одного слова не
было грубого, жесткого или
miracle!’
Jerome clasped his hands and,
entirely forgetting the cable,
continued with passion:
‘Our father vicar has the
greatest trouble over his
sermons. When he was writing
the history of the monastery, he
tired out the whole brotherhood
and made ten trips to town; but
Nicolas could write akaphists,
not just sermons and histories!’
‘And are akaphists so hard to
write?’
‘Very hard’ nodded Jerome.
‘Wisdom and saintliness will
not help him to whom God has
not given the gift. The monks
who don’t understand argue that
you need only know the life of
the saint of whom you are
writing and follow the other
akaphists, but that is not so, sir.
Of course, to write an akaphist
one must know the life of the
saint down to the least detail,
and of course, too, one must
conform to the other akaphists
so far as knowing where to
begin and what to write about.
To give you an example, the
first hymn must always begin
with “It is forbidden”or “It is
elected”, and the first ikos must
always begin with “Angel”. If
you are interested in hearing it,
in the akaphist to the Lord Jesus
the first ikos begins like
this: “Angels of the Creator,
might of the Lord”; in the
akaphist to the Holy Virgin it
begins, “An angel was sent, a
messenger from heaven”; in the
akaphist to Nicolas the
Wonderworker it begins. “An
angel in form, a being of
earth” –
they
all
begin
with “Angel”. Of course, an
akaphist must conform to other
akaphists, but the important
thing is not the life of the saint
nor its conformity, but its
beauty,
its
sweetness.
Everything about it must
be graceful and brief and exact.
Every line must be tender and
gentle and soft; not a word must
несоответствующего. Так надо
писать,
чтоб
молящийся
сердцем радовался и плакал, а
умом содрогался и в трепет
приходил. В богородичном акафисте есть слова: “Радуйся,
высото,
неудобовосходимая
человеческими помыслы; радуйся, глубино, неудобозримая
и ангельскими очима!” В другом месте того же акафиста
сказано: “Радуйся, древо светлоплодовитое, от него же
питаются вернии; радуйся, древо благосеннолиственное, им
же покрываются мнози!”
Иероним,
словно
испугавшись чего-то или застыдившись, закрыл ладонями лицо и покачал головой.
– Древо светлоплодовитое...
древо благосеннолиственное...
– пробормотал он. – Найдет же
такие слова! Даст же господь
такую способность! Для краткости много слов и мыслей
пригонит в одно слово и как это
у него выходит плавно и обстоятельно! “Светоподательна светильника сущим...” – сказано в
акафисте к Иисусу Сладчайшему.
Светоподательна!
Слова такого нет ни в
разговоре, ни в книгах, а ведь
придумал же его, нашел в уме
своем! Кроме плавности и
велеречия , сударь, нужно еще,
чтоб каждая строчечка изукрашена была всячески, чтоб
тут и цветы были, и молния, и
ветер , и солнце, и все
предметы мира видимого. И
всякое восклицание нужно так
ставить, чтоб оно было
гладенько
и
для
уха
вольготней.“Радуйся,
крине
райскаго
прозябения!” –
сказано в акафисте Николаю
чудотворцу.
Не
сказано
просто “крине
райский”,
а “крине райскаго прозябения”!
Так глаже и для уха сладко. Так
именно и Николай писал! Точьв-точь так! И выразить вам не
могу как он писал!
be harsh or unsuitable or rough.
It must be written so that he who
prays with his heart may weep
with joy, that his soul may
shudder and be afraid. In an
akaphist to the Virgin he
wrote:“Rejoice, exalted of men!
Rejoice, beloved of the
angels.” In another part of the
same
akaphist
he
wrote:“Rejoice, holy-fruited tree
that nourishest our faith; rejoice,
tree of merciful leaves that
coverest our sins!”
Jerome bowed his head and
covered his face with his hands,
as if he had taken fright or were
ashamed of something.
‘Holy-fruited tree – tree of
merciful leaves!’ he muttered.
‘Were there ever such words?
How was it possible that the
Lord should have given him
such a gift? For brevity he used
to combine many words and
thoughts into one word, and
how smoothly and truly his
writing flowed! “Lambent Star
of the world”, he says in an
akaphist to Jesus the allmerciful.“Lambent Star of the
world!”. Those words have
never been spoken or written
before; he thought of them
himself; he found them in his
own mind! But each line must
not only be fluent and eloquent,
it must be adorned with many
things – with flowers and light
and wind and sun and all other
objects of the visible world. And
every invocation must be
written to fall softly and
gratefully on the ear.“Rejoice in
the land of the Kingdom of
Paradise”, he wrote in an
akaphist to Nicolas the Wonderworker, not simply “Rejoice in
Paradise”. It is smoother so and
sweeter to the ear. And that is
how Nicolas wrote; just like
that. But I can’t tell you how
well he wrote.’
*
By way of conclusion let me briefly repeat the main points of this article again:
1. Linguopoetic approach to the translation of fiction presupposes first and foremost the
establishment of the aesthetic centre of the text i.e. those lexical and syntactic means which
form the basis of artistic expression – linguopoetic hinges or pivots providing for the ample
realization of other words’ semantic potential in the context of a literary writing.
2. Connotation – as a specific emotional and expressive shade of the lexical units is the result of
the realisation of their semantic potential in the context of a literary writing.
3. There are basically two types of connotations viz. the broad and the narrow ones. Broad
contextual connotation predetermines the appearance of polyphonic shades of meaning i.e.
those which one or several lexical units realise in the context of a work of fiction
simultaneously. Narrow (or expressive) connotations are on the contrary connected with the
functional semantic limitations imposed on the lexical units in the context of a literary work
when such units’ sole function boils down to the enhancement of some other words’ semantic
potential.
4. In order to preserve the unique aesthetic atmosphere of a text of verbal art, the expressive and
the semantic scope of the words used by the author needs to be carefully rendered i.e. the
aesthetic semiotic potential of the lexical units should be neither extended nor reduced.
***
References:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
Chekhov, Anton, Selected Stories. – Wordsworth Classics. 1996.
Milton, John, Paradise Lost. – Penguin Books, 1996.
Shakespeare, William, Hamlet // Tragedies. – Everyman’s Library, 1992. – Vol.1.
The Bible Reference Library on CD-Rom. – EEI, 1993.
The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. Fourth Edition. – OUP, 1992.
The Oxford English Dectionary on CD-Rom. Version 1.10. – OUP, 1994.
Бархударов Л.С. Язык и перевод. – Москва: “Международные отношения”, 1975.
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