L. Howard Quackenbush
In the following review, Quackenbush praises the
skill of Neruda’s translator, Stephen Tapscott.
Stephen J. Tapscott’s translation of Neru-
da’sCien Sonetos de amorincludes a short intro-
duction of intent and method in which Tapscott
subscribes to ‘‘the principle that the fewer overt
interpolations by the translator of a beautiful
poem the better’’ (ix), and we must applaud
his desire not to overtranslate Neruda which, I
might add, he seldom does. Those who are
acquainted with the most popular translations
of Neruda’s poetry will be reminded of works
which have violated that rule, even though pro-
fessional literary translators should be aware of
George Steiner’s postulate in favor of ‘‘treason-
ing upward’’ (‘‘A Necessary Treason: The Poet
and the Translator;’’ a discourse at the Poetry
Center, New York YM-YWHA, March 31,
1969). We might add, however, that this cardinal
sin can easily be inverted by undertranslating or
mistranslating the verses of a beautiful poem,
particularly when that poem was produced by
one of Latin America’s most revered and beloved
poets.
Tapscott’s work is a handsomely produced,
hard-bound tome, containing a few helpful notes
on Neruda’s personal life, Chilean geography
and customs, an index of English/Spanish first
lines (Neruda gave each of his 100 sonnets merely
a number), as well as the 100 sonnets in both
languages. In his ‘‘awesome task’’—to use the
vernacular—of translatingCien sonetos de amor,
Tapscot attempts to capture in English Neruda’s
‘‘use ofvoice,in sound and syntax, as the force
that binds lines and stanzas into integrated
whole...[constituting] what an English version
ofthesepoemsriskslosing;...’’(vii).
It is unfortunate that more scholars and edi-
tors do not realize that literary, and particularly
poetic, translation is not a labor for the neophyte.
Few comprehend the dexterity of expression in
both languages requisite to being counted among
the great practitioners of this craft. Success comes
as no accident, and in most cases it takes years of
preparation and practice. One marvels at the
talented display of a Gregory Rabassa in trans-
latingOne Hundred Years of SolitudeorMacho
Camacho’s Beat.
In poetic translation the restrictions placed
on the hand of the translator and the demands of
his level of expertise are compounded. Not only
are words, idioms, and cultural innuendo to be
transposed to make recognizable sense and to
approximate the original text, but also the emo-
tion, the rhythm and cadence, the alliteration
and euphony of the verse, and the voice of the
‘‘I’’ in some mysterious way are to be captured
and brought into translatable focus. One of the
greatest threats in poetic translation is that,
through its metamorphosis from one language
to the other, the poetry will be alchemized into
prose, and we must add that Tapscott is one
translator who does maintain a poetic touch.
Tapscott at times is very good, even brilliant:
‘‘tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo/
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado’’ > ‘‘I
crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. / Silent
and starving, I prowl through the streets’’
(XI 26–7). When he stays close to Neruda’s orig-
inal, as in sonnets XVII and XCVIII, his trans-
lations are of a very high quality, but three
problems tend to plague even the most experi-
enced translators. The first is the difficulty they
experience in maintaining consistency in the level
of register or diction. The choice of terms is of
tremendous consequence. For instance, when
Neruda wishes to be lyrical in his courtship display
(100 Love Sonnets, after all, was written to his
beloved Matilde Urrutia with whom he was living
at the time of composition and who was to become
his third wife), the translator should be careful not
to destroy the illusion with antipoetic impurities of
tone or euphony. The ear attuned to the melodic
tones of Spanish may he shaken violently by the
strains of English syllables and terms. The follow-
ing examples may serve to illustrate this idea: it
may clash with the sensibilities of the reader for
‘‘agua desbocada’’ to become ‘‘galloping water’’;
and should ‘‘tus cabellos’’ be reproduced poetically
as ‘‘your hairs’’?; ‘‘sombra’’ becomes ‘‘shadowy
dark,’’ when it could have been merely ‘‘shadows’’;
‘‘desdichas’’ become ‘‘rough times’’; ‘‘acecha’’ turns
into ‘‘sabotaged,’’ and ‘‘inu ́til’’ into ‘‘stupid.’’
The second pitfall is that through translation
the verse or terminology may become vague,
appear dispossessed of meaning, or lose its relation-
ship to its referent. A good example of the latter
appears in sonnet XXII when ‘‘luna de junio’’
becomes ‘‘summer’s moon.’’ We should remember,
of course, that ‘‘junio’’ is winter in Chile. A more
subtle problem occurs if ‘‘avispa’’ (XIX) is trans-
lated ‘‘bee’’ instead of ‘‘wasp’’ or ‘‘hornet.’’ A sub-
sequent reference to its ‘‘cintura,’’ alluding to the
hourglass shape of the wasp and its parallels with
the female human form, is lost in translation,
because a bee does not have that shape. What is
the poetic result when ‘‘los cerezos’’ becomeSonnet LXXXIX