#i like some of the lines but not the poem

[nostalgebraist]

I feel like I've had the same experience several times now: someone does a new translation of a non-English literary classic, and all the critics praise it to the moon, so I go and try to read it, and it's turns out it's just . . . bad? Like, really bad? And weirdly bad?

A while back, I wrote about the case of Pevear and Volokhonsky. Here's another example, which I encountered while doing background research for my novel Almost Nowhere.

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One of my novel's major characters is a literary translator, famous for his rendition of the Persian epic poem Shahnameh ("Book of Kings").

To help me write this character, I tried to read the Shahnameh myself. I started out – where else? – with the translation that seemed to be the gold standard, and which was certainly the most critically lauded.

Namely, the 2006 translation by Dick Davis, in prose with occasional shifts into verse.

Here's how the Shahnameh begins, in Davis' translation:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty? No one has any knowledge of those first days, unless he has heard tales passed down from father to son. This is what those tales tell: The first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne, was Kayumars. When he became lord of the world, he lived first in the mountains, where he established his throne, and he and his people dressed in leopard skins. It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time. Seated on his throne, as splendid as the sun, he reigned for thirty years. He was like a tall cypress tree topped by the full moon, and the royal farr shone from him. All the animals of the world, wild and tame alike, reverently paid homage to him, bowing down before his throne, and their obedience increased his glory and good fortune.

And here is the same opening, in the 1905 translation by Arthur and Edmond Warner (which I only discovered much later in the process of writing Almost Nowhere):

What saith the rustic bard? Who first designed To gain the crown of power among mankind? Who placed the diadem upon his brow? The record of those days hath perished now Unless one, having borne in memory Tales told by sire to son, declare to thee Who was the first to use the royal style And stood the head of all the mighty file. He who compiled the ancient legendary, And tales of paladins, saith Gaiúmart Invented crown and throne, and was a Sháh. This order, Grace, and lustre came to earth When Sol was dominant in Aries And shone so brightly that the world grew young. Its lord was Gaiúmart, who dwelt at first Upon a mountain; thence his throne and fortune Rose. He and all his troop wore leopard-skins, And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy. He reigned o'er all the earth for thirty years, In goodness like a sun upon the throne, And as a full moon o'er a lofty cypress So shone he from the seat of king of kings. The cattle and the divers beasts of prey Grew tame before him; men stood not erect Before his throne but bent, as though in prayer, Awed by the splendour of his high estate, And thence received their Faith.

Now, I can't speak at all about the source text. I have no idea how faithful or unfaithful these two translations are, and in what ways, in which places.

Still, though. I mean like, come on.

This is an epic poem about ancient kings and larger-than-life heroes.

This is a national epic, half myth and half history, narrating the proud folkloric lineage claimed by a real-world empire.

There is a way that such things are supposed to sound, in English. And it sure as hell isn't this:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty?

Excuse me? That's your opening line? I thought I was reading a poem, here, not taking a fucking AP World Literature exam!

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Postscript

Some of the critical praise for the Davis translation, quoted on the back cover of my copy (emphasis mine):

"A poet himself, Davis brings to his translation a nuanced awareness of Ferdowsi's subtle rhythms and cadences. His "Shahnameh" is rendered in an exquisite blend of poetry and prose, with none of the antiquated flourishes that so often mar translations of epic poetry." (Reza Aslan, The New York Times Book Review) "Thanks to Davis's magnificent translation, Ferdowsi and the Shahnameh live again in English.” (Michael Dirda, Washington Post) "A magnificent accomplishment . . . [Davis’s translation] is not only the fullest representation of Ferdowsi’s masterpiece in English but the best." (The New York Sun)

[earlgreytea68]

its just one of those days where ive had coffees for closers on repeat

sighhhh

have u ever done an analysis of the song? if not what r ur thoughts?? hope ur having a good day btw xx

Ugh, this song is such a gutpunch. I've talked about it briefly in the context of how it reworks lines from Pete's poem "to you (unfinished, off the top of my head)" in THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE:

He does the same thing with the lyrics he borrows for (coffee’s for closers). Pete’s poem sets the tone for fairy-tale storytelling right at the beginning: “It all started with some friends and a van, a kick drum inside my ribs, preaching electric into a microphone stand.” These beginning images are fond: holding up red cups at house parties, falling asleep together on the grass during festivals, laughing. But Patrick carves those lines out and brackets them with “I will never believe in anything again, we will never believe again.” What an answer to this poem out of Patrick: to take those words and slap them between endless proclamations of not falling for that fairy tale again. Even worse, he tops it off with a rewrite of the “read the charts” line: the poem reads “you can get lonely when u only read the charts.” This feels like more on the theme of “you can get everything you want [but it’s never enough], but it won’t actually make you happy.” You can read the charts, and FOB would be on top of them, but it’s lonely up there, and you need more than that. But the line in (coffee’s for closers) goes: “Only get lonely when you read the charts.” The movement of that “only” shifts the line for me. There are a bunch of ways to read it, but for me it reads like: “You only get lonely when you remember you’re in a band. You’re so busy running around being the life of the party, you’re never, ever lonely unless you’re paying attention to your band.”

The thing is, I consider that poem a fond and wistful love poem from Pete to Patrick, trying to reach across a great chasm, and at first the pain of it is how Patrick initially writes songs that take those lines and rejects them, twists them, spits them back out. Eventually he doesn't. Eventually he soothes the lines back into answering love songs. But in the beginning, he writes songs that are fiery rejections of the mood of this poem, and (coffee's for closers) is one of them. Pete's poem reads all us believers still believe. Patrick in this song writes, over and over and over again, slamming it home, I will never believe again. Take that, Pete Wentz! Never! Again!

To me it's just a brutal song about hating how everything turned out but not seeing a way out of it (I want everything to change and stay the same). The Genius annotation says throw your cameras in the air is about how people always film concerts these days, but I think that's wrong. I mean, maybe, although the song was written in 2008 when cell phone taping was still a fairly new phenomenon. But I think this line is really a rumination on fame, on feeling like everywhere you look there are cameras in your face, and it's not about concerts, it's about your life. Girls used to follow you around...until you got cold, and you were no longer the current big thing, and then it's lonely there in the spotlight, where no one's having a good time, the hands they wave in the air are all cameras pointed at you, hoping to catch the next mistake, and everything that was supposed to be good and great, all those pretty promises Pete Wentz made back in the summer fest days when you fell asleep on the grass turned into this. You've become something I don't even recognize, and I'm just your mascot, some laughable gimmick everyone makes fun of, and you love the mayhem more than the love that was all around you, you threw all that love away like you didn't even want it, and I will never believe in anything again. Change will come, and nothing good is going to come of that, either, because you don't like things the way they are but you know that changing them isn't going to turn out well, either.

This song is just so much. It's so angrily hiatus. It's such a demonstration of how much they had broken down around each other.

But it's okay. Because on the other side of it, eventually, Patrick takes this same poem and makes it into "Favorite Record," so it turns out all right in the end. Happily ever after (below the waist)

[siriusblacksdiary]

shitty attempt at poetry i’ve had sitting in my drafts for ages:

Its a bad day,

Not a bad life,

Do not let a moment in time define you,

For you are worth more than the stardust,

Stronger than the echo of a life once lived, 

Let the thoughts fade to a whisper,

A bad day though during seems eternal,

Is not forever.

- <3

[cometblaster2070]

once again thinking about subnautica and the entirety of the sea emperor's speech and how subnautica is a game about growth and exploring and nature and healing and empathy and being kind and all that bullshit and that it was never the objective to collect weapons and hunt leviathans and how the final leviathan you meet which is the biggest, strongest, most intelligent creature on this planet by far, it is the one who shows you kindness and offers you friendship and idk man just the idea of subnautica having an anti-boss fight because you and the sea emperor just chill for a bit and just the fact that she lived on for years and years just for the chance to play with her children and spent the last of her energy doing so.

just subnautica honestly.

[demigod-of-the-agni]

kurunthokai, 168 — “what the hero said to his heart”

[screechingfromthevoid]

I made an Orym edit instead of writing or sleeping

[my-name-is-apollo]

Reading a commentary on Callimachus' hymn to Apollo and the author gives a list of works that describe Apollo's beauty. How awfully nice of them 😌

[whenyoulosesmallmind]

Nicklas Bäckström & the Washington Capitals (+ nickeovi) ― Immortality, Clare Harner | insp.

credits: x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x.

[mumblesplash]

someone tagged the hope poem post 'the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls' excuse me while i cry in a corner forever

[introspectivememories]

NICO: WE SHARED THE LIFT THIS MORNING! I WAS GOING TO THE POOL TRAMPOLINE WITH MY TWO DAUGHTERS AND HE WAS GOING TO THE RACETRACK. PINKHAM: VERY DIFFERENT LIVES YOU'RE CURRENTLY LEADING.

[decisions-at-3am]

Do you ever think of me As I have thought of you?

I saw the scribblings of Muddled lines from your life. Day-to-day inspirations, All carefully collected.

I wanted to know how it felt. So I wrote, day and night. But I may have been mistaken, You, the subject of what I write.

It's increasingly clear that, I do not have varied interests. Everything loops back to you, You are my forever muse.

[corpsentry]

at the asian american studies sponsored movie screening i run out of my seat to press a button for the presenter and you look away, not in shame, but in anger

go make your own movie.

One where you’re the star

and everything’s my fault

the way you want it to be. I know, it’s easy

to let someone else hold this grief

and sit in the bathtub,

all dressed up to go to the party.

Maybe in this movie it’s your party

and I the party crasher,

holding cymbals and a baseball bat, et cetera.

But we don’t stop getting older when we’re angry

and you’re only twenty,

can’t listen to lullabies at night,

can’t sleep without a blanket

over your head like you’re scared

of your own shadow. God, go

write your own movie.

You could do it,

you’re still

pretty. Angry? Me too.

The bathtub’s overflowing,

the bathroom’s flooding

with whatever you couldn’t say

to the poet with their palms glued shut

in a cheap simulacrum of prayer.

Didn’t you say you were tired? Angry? Me too.

Upset? Unhappy? Me too. Hungry? Lonely? Me too. Me too.

Standing barefoot in the grass

I remembered the month of bad weather.

How I parted the fog with broken hands each night,

looking for your voice.

Oh, I will not forgive you.

Not like this.

With your fingers splayed

against the brute February sky,

lips cracked open like windows,

waiting, like you always are, for me to say the first word.

[calamitys-child]

Something something the curtains are blue or whatever but underappreciated media analysis phenomenon is when someone else reads something you wrote and points out the blue curtains that you hadn't even noticed yourself hanging up while you built it. Like fuck they sure are I genuinely hadn't noticed I just flung em up I was concentrating on the carpet. Hey that shade of blue goes nice with the carpet huh. I should get more decor in that colour. Does this make sense to anyone

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #14: A poem about two people who start out as enemies and become lovers

Change of Heart

In preschool you were horrid, smashing sand into my face. In second grade, you tripped me in the big three-legged race. In middle school, you mocked me when I lost the spelling bee and acted like you'd vomit when you came in sight of me.

Our senior year, you saved me when my date left me at prom. You drove me home and helped me to explain it to my mom. Our freshman year of college, we were partners in that class. Without your help in chemistry I never would have passed.

When Dad was in that car crash you stayed with me while I cried. I wanted to be with him but I had no other ride. You ditched all of your classes and you took me 'cross the state. The tacos we got afterward were kind of our first date.

We fought at graduation and agreed that we were through. Then for the next two years I thought I was well rid of you. When in town for Joe's wedding, I was far beyond surprised when you found me in private and at last apologized.

We kept in constant contact through our emails, texts, and calls Before long it was like we'd never been apart at all. I've found that I can trust you and share with you everything yet I didn't expect you to show up here with a ring.

When looking at the past we've shared, we had a rocky start, but proofs of your good nature gave you place within my heart. I've seen you at your worst and also seen you at your best, so with how well I know you I just have to answer

Yes.

[dropthedemiurge]

and if i’m too hot to handle, let me drown in the ice cold water float down to the bottom of the darkness like a heavy burden that i am

// Ray – Only Friends (Episode 4)

[My other OF fanarts]

[yexuans]

As we all know, yexuan likes the author Jorge Louis Borges, and i think that another poem by the same author "Two English Poems", especially the second verse, suits yexuan really well too. 😭

"I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat."

This line like omg...