For those who don’t know: Jerome Rothenberg is a small, hunched man with poetic energy exuding from every pore. Those recording the session had to dramatically redo (read: lower) the microphone to accommodate him. Rothenberg read works from 1955 to the present, works that were inspired by others (Gertrude Stein, Celan) or not. His reading focused on “The Practice of Othering”, which he described as something beyond translation.
I felt that there was helical nature to many of the poems he read, either within a piece due to rhythm and sound, or multiple pieces that build upon each other and step backwards also.
When talking about translation, he stated that transformations and / or transcreations can occur. For example, he spoke of translating Lorca. When her learned that the publishing house wasn’t going to print the book as he intended, he then excised all of the nouns from his translated poems, rearranged them and created new poems around those nouns. Consequently his work became an homage to Lorca; this approach made sense, especially given that early in the presentation he stated that the composition of poetry is the feeling that we are not alone, but part of a continuum of expression. It seems to me this manner of composition is placing himself in the continuum (in relation to a specific person who preceded him).
I found it really interesting listening to him talk about translation, and to his openness about what translation could be, especially after hearing Clayton Eshleman speak briefly on the topic last week. Eshleman seemed to have a narrower view than Rothenberg. For example, Eshleman clearly isn’t very impressed with homophone translations, which are translations based around sound (e.g., “amigo” becomes “am ego”). While I’d be hesitant to call this translation, I do think it could lead to interesting poetry, an evolution of language and meaning. Near the end of the event Rothenberg stated that he perceived all poetry as being a kind of translation, just as we translate each other. A poet can serve as a witness and a conduit for those whose voices are not heard. (As I write this I realize this sentiment is not so different from Brenda Iijima’s, even though the results – and who they serve as conduits for – are so dramatically different.)