Cathay Revisited and Dancing with the Dead
Cathay Revisited, translated by Red Pine. 64 pages, Paper.
This is a book of translation about translating. Red Pine has revisited the poems first translated by Ezra Pound in his Cathay, renewed them through his own experience of language and culture, and attached an important essay about the art of translating. In his own words: "Soon after I printed the first version of this chapbook, I gave a copy to William Merwin. He told me he visited Pound when he was incarcerated at St. Elizabeths. Like Pound, Merwin made up his mind when he was quite young that he was going to be a poet, and he asked Pound for advice. Pound told him, 'If you want to be a poet, a good poet, learn to translate.' Happily, Merwin took his advice. Translators work in the middle ground, between languages, and that ground can be as vast—or narrow—as the translator's vision. Of course, trying to convince others of the validity of that vision isn't easy. But it's no reason not to try. In the Fall of 2004, I was invited to take part in a conference on Chinese poetry at Simmons College in Boston. The organizer, Afaa Weaver, asked me to say something about how I went about my work. I had never given it any thought. I just did it. But I agreed it was time to say something, and I wrote the short piece that I've appended to the end of this chapbook. I don't know how other people do it, but when I translate, I see someone on the dancefloor I can't resist joining, but I'm deaf. I don't hear the music. I only see the dancer, dancing."
Cathay Revisited, translated by Red Pine. 64 pages, Paper.
This is a book of translation about translating. Red Pine has revisited the poems first translated by Ezra Pound in his Cathay, renewed them through his own experience of language and culture, and attached an important essay about the art of translating. In his own words: "Soon after I printed the first version of this chapbook, I gave a copy to William Merwin. He told me he visited Pound when he was incarcerated at St. Elizabeths. Like Pound, Merwin made up his mind when he was quite young that he was going to be a poet, and he asked Pound for advice. Pound told him, 'If you want to be a poet, a good poet, learn to translate.' Happily, Merwin took his advice. Translators work in the middle ground, between languages, and that ground can be as vast—or narrow—as the translator's vision. Of course, trying to convince others of the validity of that vision isn't easy. But it's no reason not to try. In the Fall of 2004, I was invited to take part in a conference on Chinese poetry at Simmons College in Boston. The organizer, Afaa Weaver, asked me to say something about how I went about my work. I had never given it any thought. I just did it. But I agreed it was time to say something, and I wrote the short piece that I've appended to the end of this chapbook. I don't know how other people do it, but when I translate, I see someone on the dancefloor I can't resist joining, but I'm deaf. I don't hear the music. I only see the dancer, dancing."
Cathay Revisited, translated by Red Pine. 64 pages, Paper.
This is a book of translation about translating. Red Pine has revisited the poems first translated by Ezra Pound in his Cathay, renewed them through his own experience of language and culture, and attached an important essay about the art of translating. In his own words: "Soon after I printed the first version of this chapbook, I gave a copy to William Merwin. He told me he visited Pound when he was incarcerated at St. Elizabeths. Like Pound, Merwin made up his mind when he was quite young that he was going to be a poet, and he asked Pound for advice. Pound told him, 'If you want to be a poet, a good poet, learn to translate.' Happily, Merwin took his advice. Translators work in the middle ground, between languages, and that ground can be as vast—or narrow—as the translator's vision. Of course, trying to convince others of the validity of that vision isn't easy. But it's no reason not to try. In the Fall of 2004, I was invited to take part in a conference on Chinese poetry at Simmons College in Boston. The organizer, Afaa Weaver, asked me to say something about how I went about my work. I had never given it any thought. I just did it. But I agreed it was time to say something, and I wrote the short piece that I've appended to the end of this chapbook. I don't know how other people do it, but when I translate, I see someone on the dancefloor I can't resist joining, but I'm deaf. I don't hear the music. I only see the dancer, dancing."