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tl2do | 4 days ago

As a native Japanese speaker, I'm happy to see our literature introduced to other countries. But I also feel conflicted.

The original Japanese of the first poem is:

おほけなき床の錦や散り紅葉

The translation on the site:

> I am not worthy > of this crimson carpet: > autumn maple leaves.

This contains the translator's interpretation, and the sound and intonation are completely lost. I admire the translator's effort, but I want visitors to understand how much this differs from the original.

discuss

order

lo_zamoyski|4 days ago

This is the general problem with literature and poetry especially. They're not entirely translatable.

- Languages are part of culture and they are historically conditioned, making them necessarily bounded and finite [0]. While the essential thing signified may be the same for corresponding words in two languages (snow vs. Schnee), there is variance in semantic emphasis, connotation, and symbolic significance. In other words, the pragmatic aspect of language is highly contextual and conditioned.

- Words can be used univocally, equivocally, or analogically, and there isn't necessarily a correspondence between these constellations across any two languages. But so much of wordplay trades on such constellations.

- The syntactic and phonetic features peculiar to a language - apart from the what is signified per se - is heavily exploited by poetry.

[0] This reminds me of words like the Greek λόγος (logos), which does not find a satisfactory counterpart in any language as far as I can tell. (Approximations are Tao, Ṛta, or Ma'at, for instance.) You see this difficulty in the translation of John 1 where it is usually rendered verbum or word, which have their own perfections, but fail to do justice to the richness of the original meaning of Logos in passages like John 1:1 and 1:3: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. [...] All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made." When you substitute "Word" with "Logos", you can clearly see how much more pregnant that message is, e.g., that, contrary to the pagan mythology of those John was addressing, in the beginning there was order, not chaos; that God is Reason; that everything that exists is caused by God and therefore fundamentally intelligible. (Curiously, the Latin Verbum is better than the Greek at emphasizing the procession of divine Reason as Second Person from the First Person in the Trinity.)

jlaternman|1 day ago

True, but there is no obstacle in the way of showing the source. Especially considering how concise Japanese is. Best of both worlds. Fascinating discussion in this whole thread.

osullivj|4 days ago

By "procession", do you allude to the filioque clause? Agreed on difficulty of translation as I follow Quine so think a language as a whole is the unit of meaning as opposed to any specific granular element.

darkerside|4 days ago

I feel like trying to replicate the meter in English is a silly constraint

I would prefer to know how each line would be best interpreted if it weren't a haiku

tl2do|4 days ago

I am not a literature lover. I found a modern language interpretation of the poem. Many interpretation are possible. But I feel this is relevant. I translated it to English.

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おほけなき床の錦や散り紅葉 "Ohokenaki toko no nishiki ya chiri momiji" is interpreted as a haiku-like expression of introspection and refined aesthetic sensibility — one in which the speaker, surrounded by undeserved honor (ohokenaki) and luxurious living (toko no nishiki = sumptuous furnishings), gazes upon the fleeting falling autumn leaves and reflects on their own vanity and attachment to life.

Key points of interpretation: おほけなき Ohokenaki (身の程知らず /畏れ多い): Refers to a luxurious situation or standing that exceeds one's true worth or station — something almost presumptuous to possess. 床の錦 Toko no nishiki: Literally, a beautifully brocaded floor covering; a symbol of opulence. By extension, it evokes the sight of vivid autumn leaves carpeting the ground — the splendor of autumn (nishiki-aki) likened to a gorgeous spread of fabric. 散り紅葉 Chiri momiji : Falling, scattering autumn leaves — a classic symbol of impermanence and the Buddhist sense of transience (mujo). Overall picture: The speaker finds themselves in lavish surroundings that feel undeserved (ohokenaki), while the scattering leaves (mujo) adorn that world with a beauty that is at once gorgeous and hollow — a quiet contrast between humility and the ephemeral.

Even amid a life of splendor, the sight of leaves falling reveals a universal truth — that all things must eventually end. The poem captures a mood that is gently melancholic yet elevated: savoring that beauty from a place of quiet, dignified acceptance.

jerf|4 days ago

Sound and intonation are never going to translate between Japanese and English. It's not even on the table.

Such things can't even necessarily translate well between two languages as similar as French and English. Japanese and English is completely hopeless.

It's true in the other direction too, though this being an English site it might be more easily neglected. I've seen some English songs translated into Japanese, keeping the same syllable count scheme. The Japanese is radically simplified compared to the English, with entire adverbs, adjectives, even clauses removed. And that's even before we ask whether Japanese necessarily has the correct words to translate some of the richer English concepts with their own centuries of history and connotation behind them that these songs contained.

It is what it is. There isn't much that can be done about it. Even if someone made an exhaustive translation of something, it could never be repacked into something that matches the original concise packing.

hirvi74|3 days ago

As a native speaker, would there be any way that you could translate this back one poem back into Japanese? I am curious what the original would be, and if the translation was truly accurate. It was favorite one from the article:

RAIZAN (来山) Died on the 3rd day of the 10th month, 1716 at the age of 63

Farewell, sire—

like snow, from water come

to water gone.