Customer Reviews

Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Mr. Bly's collection includes the two most famous poems by Rilke, Der Panther ("The panther") and Herbsttag ("October Day"), but mostly it reflects the editor's personal taste. For example, he omits the Duino Elegies because, among other things, he is not convinced they belong to Rilke's best work: "There's something about them that is admirable but not likeable."

Bly has a good sense for the troubled life of Rilke and the inner strength that enabled Rilke to produce his art (a situation not unlike that of Hermann Hesse, whose poems Rilke once classified as being "on the verge of art"). Despite Rilke's neuroticism, his rootlessness, and his difficult relationships, for Bly, Rilke "stands for toughness, freedom from self-pity, ability to work, whatever one's life situation."

Bly states that he wants to be true to the sound of the poems, but his translations are quite matter-of-fact and lose a lot of the lyrical qualities of the German original. If you are looking for a translation that captures the spirit and sound of Rilke's poetry better than Bly's efforts, try Stephen Mitchell's The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke (also available in this fine electronic store).

To give you an idea of the difference in quality, let me compare the translations of the first stanza of the first of the Sonnets to Orpheus. The original in German is: Da stieg ein Baum. O reine Uebersteigung! / O Orpheus singt! O hoher Baum im Ohr! / Und alles schweigt. Doch selbst in der Verschweigung / ging neuer Anfang, Wink und Wandlung vor.

Bly translates: A tree rising. What a pure growing! / Orpheus is singing! A tree inside the ear! / Silence, silence. Yet new buildings, / signals, and changes went on in the silence. (nice try at the "s-s" sounds, but why does he drop the "tall" - a nice alliteration to "tree"? And isn't it a bit cruel to the English language to write "buildings ... went on in the silence"?)

Mitchell translates: A tree ascended there. Oh pure transcendence! / Oh Orpheus sings! Oh tall tree in the ear! / And all things hushed. Yet even in that silence / a new beginning, beckoning, change appeared.

To give you an idea of the genius of the second translation, consider the following: "stieg" means "rose", but "stieg auf" means "ascended"; "ging...vor" means "happened", but "ging...hervor" means "appeared". Mitchell probed the connotations of the German verbs, and pushed their meaning - within the limits of the German original - to achieve a more poignant, vibrating, powerful quality in the English translation. Also, his use of alliteration is much closer to the spirit of the German original. Unable to keep the alliteration of Oh-Ohr, he employs tall-tree and and-all. On a personal note, I very much admire the choice of the verb "hushed" with its "shshsh" sound as a translation for the most important noun in the first stanza: "Verschweigung" (a neologism built from "verschweigen" (to conceal, to be silent), and "Verzweigung" (branching)). The "shshsh" sound keeps the many "s" and "sch" sounds you can hear when you read the first stanza (in German) aloud, and it is just as evocative of the sound of wind in a tree as the German original. That is an amazing achievement.

Unable to read German, I had always found Rilke's poetry inaccessible and vaguely repellent until I found this translation. Stephen Mitchell's much-vaunted translation left me cold. Perhaps Mitchell captures the sonority of the poems better than does Bly, but he strains so hard to do so that the life goes out of the verse. It does not quite read like living English. Each poem seems to be wearing a mask that says, "This is what I really look like!" You never get to look the poem directly in the face. Bly's translation, by contrast, while perhaps excessively plain-spoken (which is why I give it 4 stars and not 5), has a transparency and vivacity that has allowed me finally to glimpse what all the fuss is about. I am not sure that Rilke stands in the front rank of great poets - he is too resolutely, narrowly interior for that - but he definitely belongs among them and I am very glad to have made his acquaintance at last. Especially helpful is Bly's interspersed commentary, intelligently and sensitively relating the poetry to Rilke's life with perceptions that could only come from a master poet who feels himself in some way a kindred spirit. Perhaps that, in the end, is why Bly's translation is more satisfying to me than Mitchell's. Bly's seems to proceed from human fellow-feeling, an engagement of the heart that is both playful and serious. Mitchell's seems to be more in the spirit of Service to Art, an altogether stiffer and stuffier affair. If you want a good example of Mitchell's genius, try his Book of Job. If you want to find a way in to Rilke's genius, buy this book.

Many of the complaints about Bly's translations are justified. Even as one who does not read or write German, I can look over at the original german text and see that the translations lack a good deal of precision. It would be easy to conclude from this that Bly takes too many liberties, or as some have assumed, that he had too poor an understanding of the German language

I have read most of Bly's writing (poetry, prose, and translations), and I certainly believe that he has contributed immeasurably to the existence of poetry in the English language. He has championed many important poets (many non-Americans) and revealed them to those like myself who are sadly the victims of typically American multi-linguistic laziness. If not his translating ability, I definitly complement his taste.

But there is more to Bly's seemingly "bad" translations then most reviewers have touched upon. The first thing that should be known is that Bly's taste for language differs from that of many poets. It probably differs a good deal from Rilke's sense of poetic language. Bly likes simple words and relatively straight forward talk, language that could be spoken "on the farm", as it were, wisdom that is not dressed up in philosophical, intellectual, or academic language, something "downhome." It is probably a good thing, because his prose is generally vague, suggestive rather than demonstrative, and prone to metahporical "leaps" that can and have frequently left readers saying, "Huh?" If his prose was academic on top of this it would be nearly unreadable.

This preference for downhome language is not precise for translation or true to Rilke's original. Rather, it is true to Robert Bly's "Blyness," a quality which his readers, love it or hate it, must adapt to should they care to keep reading. Yes, the Blyness can be irksome, but I have a healthy amount of respect for it, because, although he is sometimes a cranky old geezer, Bly does seem to me one of the truly "wise" Americans of our time. I trust his wisdom to locate and understand the resonance of meaning in the poems of Rilke, who strikes me also as wise in the same kind of way Bly does. In fact, I trust Bly to "understand" Rilke better than I trust anyone else to. So, Bly becomes less a translator and more an interpretor of Rilke, crystalizing his meanings and associations. He stands more on the side of the truth of such meanings and intentions than on the side of the beauty and artistry of Rilke's poetics.

Obviously, Bly has been greatly influenced and changed by his "experience" of Rilke's poetry. So, what we are getting with this book is a portrait of Rilke cast in the fleshed out colors of Bly. This endangers the reader in the swampland that comingles the two, but it is not specifically a bad thing. Rilke, in Bly's translation, often becomes more clear to the American mind. Bly does not betray the spirit of Rilke. I beleive he honors it by consuming it into his own being and allowing it to be channeled through him.

This may not be the best translation, but I still found the poems deeply moving and Rilke's grasp of the unconscious, of God, and of the human psyche to be overflowing with genuine vision. The translation did not disfigure for me the place Rilke deserves in the Pantheon of the earth's greatest poets. Bly's translation is not a bad place to start with Rilke's writing, nor is it a bad place to finish. Ultimately, it is illuminating, and for that reason, I think of it as successful. But read other translations as well, if these poems intrigue you. Rilke has endless riches to bestow to any reader ready to listen.

I haven't read as many different translations of Rilke as I would like and my German is minimal (though improving). That said, I find Bly's translations heartbreakingly beautiful. How much of this is Bly himself and how much is Rilke is, I suppose, what is up for debate. If, studying further translations, I find it necessary to call this book more a co-authorship than a literal translation I don't think that would be any kind of slight on either author. Translation is deeply associated with interpretation. Language and meaning are personal so each translation, quite properly shows as much of the translator as the author. The style that I associate with Rilke - the simplicity and the inexpressable depth - comes through very very clearly in these poems. The flavour of them seems more right to me than in most other translations I have read. I only skimmed a few of the reviews here but if indeed there is a debate raging about the job of a translator some people might enjoy reading Douglas Hofstadter's book Le Ton Beau de Marot. It's an interesting examination of the difficulties and delights of translation (with a focus on poetry) inspired and informed by his work with translators of his better known work, Godel, Escher, Bach. Scholarly bit said, Bly's translations grabbed me the moment I read them and I consider this book one of my most precious possessions. And Bly, I think, gains himself some artistic license (more than he would have otherwise...) by including the German so that a passionate reader with some knowledge of German can evaluate his translations for his or herself. Sorry for the rambliness of this.

Bly chooses poems from a number of Rilke's books, prefacing the poems with a brief background of where Rilke was (physically and emotionally) when he wrote each book. The original German is displayed opposite Bly's translations; you can get a sense of what got "lost in translation" even if, like myself, you don't speak a word of German.

Bly's ruthless honesty shines through every page of the book. Though his translations are incredibly luminous, he clearly admits their limits:

"...Rilke's elaborate and thoroughgoing labor on sound cannot be conveyed. In English his poems sound colorless. I've tried for ten years to get the last three lines of "October Day" right, with their lonely sound of blowing leaves and their pride in solitude, but I can't do it..."

If this fragment doesn't sell the book to you, I don't know what will!

Before I happened to pick up this book, I struggled with Rilke, barely getting through a poeme. Bly opened up vistas of meaning for me. I think it takes a poet to translate a poet. Rilke is now one of my favorite reads - and favorite gifts - thanks to Bly.

What is there in Rilke's poetry which speaks to us, and makes us wish to know it in a deeper way?
Perhaps it is the mysterious philosophical questioning which seems to touch upon his every sense apprehension. It is as if the world itself is becoming a metaphor in Rilke and reading it simply by looking at it or listening in it is transforming it into something more mysterious and more beautiful.
We want to walk down ordinary paths in our lives. But we too want to be surprised by new ways of speaking and thinking and making meaning.
Rilke gives us a feeling of always providing something more than is visibly or audibly immediately present. Reading his poetry is like being on a kind of journey in which one longs to reach the next point only to feel that one is going on without end to a place one does not know.

I've just unearthed my copy of Bly's so-called translation of Rilke, and have tossed it into the box headed for the used-book store. I can't understand why Mr. Bly calls his many efforts with other poets' works "translations," when they would be most generously described as free interpretations. (He's done a similar disservice to Lorca, and I shuddered when I saw that he's now ventured into Arabic with his most recent volume... ) I guess it's nice to see that some readers find them appealing; to me, though, many of them seem to willfully discard the poetic elements which make them great in the original! I completely agree with a previous reviewer, who praises the Mitchell translation, which is brilliant. Translating poetry is a dangerous business, particularly when the translator has deep feelings about the texts-- the temptation to "help" the reader is too great for some people. Unfortunately, their personal interpretations may not be at all what the poet had in mind! ( For more along these phiosophical lines, read Kundera's "Testaments Betrayed," which gives some fascinating -- and horrible -- examples of Kafka translations by his most devoted disciples.) If you love Bly, by all means look on these as his loving, if misguided, re-writing of some of his favorite poetry. If you're interested in Rilke, go with Mitchell.

Robert Bly is probably the worst translator of all time. He makes me wonder if he even speaks any of the languages from which he translates--or perhaps it's just his English that is so awful. He is stilted and inexact. All of Rilke's subtlety and beauty is lost on him. Moreover, his selection is poor and terribly organized.

If others here have given this book a positive review, it is only because Rilke is spectacular even after being so damaged by a translater--but Rilke is even more magnificent when handled by someone who knows how to write poetry. Please, don't make the mistake of reading anything translated by Bly. M. D. Herter Norton and C. F. MacIntyre are both worlds better! If you compare them (and the originals) against Bly, you will immediately recognize Bly's tremendous shortcomings.

I'm very sorry to disappoint readers at this point. But as I see it, there is practically no way to translate Rilke into English. This book here does it - but Rilkes poems nevertheless are reduced almost to zero.
Rilke wrote in German. Like only very few other poets known throughout history, he was able to discover shades of German words and was able to put them in a way that in short, concrete lines and pictures entire feelings of our culture, our history and the intrinsic beauty of German language came to life.
English is an entirely different language, it also belongs to a different cultural and historic background. And while in German many words have magnificent many shades of meanings, English is constructed in a way, that there are some number of words for one German word - but each word meaning exactly ONE thing, not many. And because of this intrinsic difference in language and culture, I am convinced, that it is absolutely impossible to carry Rilke into the English language.
Besides language differences, there is also something, that I find to be specifically German, which is something that the English language doesn't even have a word for, and which is "Gemuet".
It's a state of feeling and calm intensity in experiencing, something that I have never discovered in people or literature anywhere else but in Germany. And I believe, it cannot be communicated through another language.

This book therefore can be used to see, what topics Rilke wrote about.
In order to understand him, though, one has to learn German.