Lost in translation

Lost in translation 

 Today's challenge is very intriguing and really got me thinking about how impossible it is to understand a work of art from the artist's point of view,  whether it takes the form of a poem,  or a photograph.  I could probably spend hours on this one,  but I only had an hour to come up with something before dashing out to get on with my day!  I'll probably work on the first part some more,  as the extended analogy doesn't quite work for me.


My daughter sends a photo,
The view from her new house:
A thin layer of morning mist
Separates us from a strip of dark sea,
Stretching across the framed horizon.
I wonder,  why was its capture important to her?
Was she simply trying to freeze-frame the view
To share her pride in her new landscape?
What had led her to that exact spot,  at that exact moment,
Did sudden birdsong make her stop, did she smell the hedgerow?
Or did she smile at the thought of the mist lifting,
Revealing this new wider landscape, one glimpse at a time.
Did she feel lonely,  peaceful or hopeful?
Or did she snap it in a rush,
Walking her dog before work?

Later, I remember a poem by  Rimbaud,
Rural, photographic, but otherwise very different.
His words paint a picture of a soldier, asleep in a valley,
Bare headed and pale,  tranquil amongst the flowers.
The punch: not asleep,  except forever.
My translation reveals its literal meaning,  with none of the nuance,
No alliteration,  internal rhyme or rhythms; a shadow of the original.
Again I wonder, why choose to capture this particular scene?
I get that he wanted to convey the horror of war,
An idyllic setting marred by a young man's death,
But I'll never know if he was shocked,  saddened, numbed.

Photographs and poems,
Resonate with immediate and real meaning for their creator,
Their essential essence lost in translation.


© Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.









Comments

  1. Unknown6 April 2018 at 00:48

    I feel the same when I look at old group photographs of people who I don't know and are now long gone. I wonder at their lives in contrast to the moment when the flash captured that single image.
    I think you've captured that sensation really well-and when you say that you'll never know Rimbaud's emotion- that's right. He succeeded in making you aware of the purpose of his words-just as yours have made me reflect and ponder. A powerful, thoughtprovoking poem.

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