Translating Modern Korean Poetry
A paper presented at the 1st World Translators' Conference "Korean Culture in Europe: Achievements and Prospects"
(organized by LTI Korea, held in Seoul September 13-14, 2007)
When it comes to publishing literary translations, the United Kingdom
is not part of the world at large. It is a well-known fact that British
publishers are not at all interested in translations, whether from
Korean or from any other language. At least 83 volumes containing
English translations of Korean literature have been published since
2000. Of those 83, just 3 were published in the U.K., and none of them
was of modern poetry. So, although I am a native-born British
translator of Korean poetry, I am not sure that I am entitled to be
here with the rest of Europe, even though 5 of my earlier volumes were
published in the U.K. in the 1990s. Alas, neither of the publishers
involved now exists.
The main questions in a forum like today’s will always be: Why? What? For whom? How?
(A) Why do we translate modern Korean poetry? (1) Because it’s there.
(2) Because some of it is well worth translating. (3) Because it’s
Korean.
Answer (1) is often the truest answer. Just as there is no perfect
translation, so too there is no ideal candidate for translation.
Frankly speaking, I mainly translate works that happen to come to my
notice. But at the same time, I want to combine (1) with (2). I have to
believe in what I am doing. There is nothing more soul-destroying than
translating poetry (or anything else) that we do not believe has any
value. The choice of the poems to be translated is also problematic. I,
at least, cannot read a poet’s entire work. Therefore, if someone I
know and whose taste I respect suggests a list of poems for
translation, I am very happy. Finally, reason (3) explains why we are
here today. The Korean government wants us to translate Korean
literature mainly because it is Korean, part of the Korean cultural
heritage. Their perspective is not primarily a matter of literary
value. Their promotion of the translation of Korean literature is one
element in the ongoing drive to raise the international profile,
promote the “image” of Korea in the world; it is for them one part of
an official publicity campaign.
The best answer to the question “Why do we translate Korean poetry” (I
believe) is “Because at least some of it is worth translating” – worth
translating because it has qualities that are not ‘lost in translation’
and that qualify it to stand with the poetry of other nations; it is
worth translating because it is worth reading. There is the main reason
why I translate.
(B) What Korean poetry should be translated? (1) Works by poets admired
by Koreans. (2) Works that, in the translators’ opinion, may appeal to
non-Korean readers. (3) Works of historical significance in the
development of Korean poetry.
Answer (1) can be the source of a problem. We translators are expected
by Koreans, especially the Korean cultural establishment, to translate
works by writers who are already admired, “famous,” in Korea. This begs
the question of what are the criteria for fame in Korea, and what
famous writers are famous for. In the past, political sympathies loomed
very large. For years, Kim Chi-Ha and Ko Un were ‘famous’ but they were
not accepted by the government’s cultural agencies as poets who should
be translated. When it comes to the evaluations made by Korean critics,
they are often cliquish and sectarian. The Columbia Anthology of Modern
Korean Poetry, the only overall anthology of 20th-century Korean poetry
available in English, is far too short (only 35 poets, 270 pages),
because the one Korean critic who had the main say in deciding the
contents was categorical that only the small number of poets he rated
highly should be included. The rest were categorically excluded –
including Kim Jong-Gil, Kim Kwang-Kyu, Chon Sang-Pyong, Kim Nam-Ju, Yi
Si-Yong, Ma Jong-Gi, Na Hui-Dok, and very many more, almost everyone!
Koreans find it very hard to understand why a famous, iconic Korean
poem (“Azaleas” for example) does not appeal strongly to non-Korean
readers, no matter how it is translated. It is obvious that the main
expectation of Koreans, both individuals and government bodies, is that
works by poets who are admired within Korea will be translated, and
they believe that similar admiration will automatically arise in
response. Yet, usually, non-Korean translators, in chosing what to
translate, consider above all the target culture and readership, rather
than established Korean opinions. Foreign publishers are bound to have
this even more in mind. It does not matter to them what Korean readers
admire, if the translated works are not going to appeal to readers in
their cultures.
So much in Korean responses depends on the impact of purely linguistic
features, the aspects that are bound to vanish with translation. In
addition, what once struck a Korean readership as radically new (the
early poems of Sŏ Chŏng-Ju, for example) will not have any such impact
when translated. Robert Hass, former U.S. poet laureate, made that
point strongly in a major review article 2 years ago, stating plainly
his disappointment with the translations he had seen of “great” Korean
poets such as Kim So-Wol. The “Wow factor” of startling novelty may
sometimes be produced by good translations of works that most Koreans
do not esteem so much, although some very high praise recently greeted
Francisca Cho’s translations of Manhae’s 님의 침묵 poems (Everything
Yearned For) in the US. Robert Hass has written enthusiastically of our
translations from Ko Un’s Maninbo series, poems that most Korean
readers have not even looked at because they fill over 20 volumes.
Allen Ginsburg wrote of Ko Un’s Sŏn (Zen) poems, translated in Beyond
Self: “these translations are models useful to inspire American
contemplative poets.” There the finger is not pointing at the Korean
reception and reputation of the original poems, but at the potential
non-Korean response to the translated poems, a very different thing.
There have been a lot of translations of works falling under category
(3) “of historical significance.” This is slightly different from (1);
it indicates literary-historical criteria of an academic kind. Much of
what has so far been translated is of this kind: poems and works of
fiction by now-dead writers that were “influential” in the course of
the development of Korean literature over the past century. Native
Korean translators usually focus on them in choosing what to translate.
Then they are bewildered by the difficulty they have in finding an
overseas publisher, or readership, for the reasons already
mentioned—the works have no intrinsic qualities appealing to non-Korean
readers. However, students of literary history or comparative
literature, whether on a worldwide scale or within this part of Asia,
sometimes need to have access to such translations. They are of
scholarly, academic, documentary or “archival” interest but can never
hope to be a commercial success; they have little or nothing that can
appeal to the general reader in countries far from Korea, they cannot
begin to compete with the best-sellers of the moment in the world
market.
(C) For whom do we translate Korean poetry? (1) For general readers of
poetry. (2) For students of literature. (3) For lovers of Korea.
My own hope, in translating, is that people with no prior knowledge of
or connection with Korea and its culture will read with pleasure the
poems I have translated and find qualities in them they have not found
elsewhere. I want the distinctive voice of Korean poets to ring out
clearly in translation. However, for publishers, the prospect that a
book of translations might be used as a classroom textbook is often
very important in deciding whether to take the risk of publishing. Many
translations of Korean poetry into English, at least, have been
published by American University presses, or by institutes within
universities where Korean studies are taught. The market envisaged for
these publications is almost entirely the university East-Asian studies
readership. The books are only publicized (if at all) in professional
journals and there is often no attempt at distribution to ordinary
bookstores. The general reader is not even made aware that these books
exist.
Another rather different readership for translations into English at
least (and Russian, too, surely), included in (3), comprises ethnic
Koreans beyond the first generation, for whom it has become impossible
to read literature in Korean. This is an important category, for it is
the milieu out of which most of the future English translators from
Korean are emerging, young people who grow up with some knowledge of
Korean, whose English is of native-speaker level, and who have studied
English-language literature or creative writing at university. In the
same category of Korea-lovers, completely ignored in Korea, are the
foreign visitors to Korea who, discovering the country with pleasure,
want to read its literature but search (almost always in vain) in the
bookstores of Seoul for translations of Korean literature.
D. How should Korean poetry be translated?
This is really a precise application of the much-debated general
theoretical question, “How should poetry be translated?” The obvious
fundamental options are: (1) as prose (2) as verse. Prose translations
are mostly intended to offer help to readers who are able to read the
poem in its original language if they have a ‘crib’ to guide them. Only
a prose translation can represent accurately the verbal contents of the
original. But it is usually assumed that Korean poetry will be
translated as poetry (at least in the minimal sense, breaking it into
short lines). The main question is whether we are able to translate
good Korean poetry into good foreign-language poetry. Alas, a
translator is not automatically a poet.
We, translators and sponsoring agencies, all want to see “good
translations” of Korean poetry being published. The definition of a
“good translation” is also a basic, theoretical issue. The two poles
are: (1) An accurate representation of the original words (and even
rhythms) (2) A more or less transformed version of the original that
stands as a worthwhile poem in itself. Koreans wrongly think that a
precise verbal transfer of the original will surely be the best
possible (and the only acceptable) translation of it. That is a too
simplistic, over-literal approach. Of course, we all dream of the ideal
synthesis : (3) An accurate translation of the original that is in
itself a worthwhile poem. Part of the problem comes from the
limitations of the translator, who is not usually a poet with the gifts
of the author of the original. One notable British exception was the
recently deceased Michael Hamburger, whose translations into English of
great German poetry are outstanding poems because he was himself also a
magnificent English poet.
There are obvious limitations to be overcome, no matter who is
translating: a native Korean translating into a second language may
feel the poetry of the original well, but does not usually dispose of a
full enough command of the target language, especially not of the
vocabulary and styles used in contemporary Western poetry. I believe
that a non-Korean who knows Korean reasonably well is far better placed
to make the initial draft translation, but still only if s/he is
familiar with the contemporary poetry of the target language. Koreans
too easily forget that most “native speakers” of other languages are
not able to write them correctly, let alone poetically.
It is quite easy for a native Korean associate, faced with a draft made
by a non-Korean who is well-versed in Korean, to point out places where
the original has been misunderstood or misrepresented. On the other
hand, when a Korean translator seeks help from a native speaker of the
target language (and many seem too proud to do so), help is often
sought from a less than qualified native speaker, even one who speaks
no Korean at all. In that case, the translation is often taken further
than needed from the original in the name of stylistic polishing.
A variant of this second method is currently enjoying some popularity:
a translation, hopefully as accurate as possible, is submitted to a
poet in the target language, who is asked to “turn it into a real poem”
by “poeticizing” it. The result, it is hoped, will be a fairly accurate
translation that is also an agreeably poetic work. Of course, the
procedure is not new. Ezra Pound’s earlier poems from the Chinese were
based on prose translations made by an expert translator. In the U.S.
poets who know no Korean have recently joined forces with native Korean
translators of limited English ability and limited English style. The
resulting poems are often quite pleasing. They may not, however, be
very reliable representations of what was in the originals. In a few
cases, none so far involving Korean poetry, the revising poet is really
famous, a “Big Name,” and the published book is sold on the strength of
that poet’s reputation. In such cases, the name of the original
translator is usually obscured or omitted, even the original poet’s
name is often given second place.
There are cases where a non-Korean translator of Korean poetry is also
a poet, and undertakes both the draft translation and the “poeticizing”
revision. The result can be disconcerting. I could point to cases in
the Columbia Anthology where very great liberties have been taken by a
translator who was certainly able to see what the original says, and
deliberately opted to change or omit a great deal. Is such “creative
translation” good or bad? Certainly, Koreans who can read English are
very critical of translations that do not follow exactly the Korean;
yet they are usually quite unable to feel the poetic qualities of an
English text, even if they are professors of English literature.
The last topic to be covered is publication. The English-speaking world
has a special problem, only paralleled by the Spanish-speaking; in
both, large groups of readers of the same language are divided by vast
oceans, that one publisher cannot easily span. Then too there is the
almost complete lack of interest in publishing translations of any kind
seen in the US as well as the UK, that is compounded by the general
lack of interest in poetry everywhere. At present, poetry translations
in English mainly find publishers among the small, non-profit presses
still existing in the US (but hardly at all in the U.K.), and sometimes
at university-based presses. Fortunately, some of those small presses
enjoy a very high reputation among poetry-lovers. Poetry will always be
a limited, specialized market. Getting bookstores to stock translations
is the final nightmare.
One important activity that most translators in Korea pay little
attention to is the publication of translations of single poems or
small numbers of poems in literary journals. This can be a more
effective way of drawing attention to Korean poetry than the
publication of whole volumes. The main difficulty is the labor involved
in finding potentially interested journals and sending out submissions
in the required format at the proper time. The poems of Ko Un have been
particularly successful in this area, some even being published in the
New Yorker, which enjoys a huge circulation. I would be interested to
know if other European translators have experience in this area.
Publication is only a start. A book will only sell if it gets
publicity, reviews in the press, and if it is stocked by suitable
bookstores for long enough. One important form of publicity sponsored
by the KLTI and other foundations involves sending Korean writers to
read abroad. The difficulty comes from the very limited number of them
who can speak another language or project a strong nonverbal image. I
have to end with a painful fact: so far as I know, no major Korean poet
has ever given a public reading in the United Kingdom. That is probably
true of no other European country. It seems that the UK is the world’s
new Hermit Kingdom.