《一个我未曾到过的地方》

《一个我未曾到过的地方》 E. E. 康明斯


一个我未曾到过的地方，欣然地
超乎任何体验，就在你眼内的静谧：
在你最柔弱的手势里，是那些包围我的，
那些太近，以致我无法触摸的东西。

你淡然一瞥，便轻易解开我，
尽管我已如手指般紧闭，
你总是一瓣一瓣地把我打开，就如春天
（娴熟地，神秘地，轻触着）把她的第一朵玫瑰打开

若你的意愿是要把我关闭，我连同
我的生命便将合拢，美丽又骤然地，
就如这花朵内心里，幻想着
雪花小心翼翼地四处飘落；
我们世上所能感受的，无能媲美于
你那强烈的脆弱所蕴含的力量：其质感
连同其所有国度的颜色，驱使着我，
在每一次的呼吸间，诠释着死亡与永恒

（我不清楚，究竟是你的什么特质，关闭
又打开；但我心里某处能明白
你眼神的声音比所有的玫瑰还深邃）
没有人，甚至雨，有如此般细小的手。


translated from Somewhere I have never travelled by E. E. Cumming

Oh heavens! What big endowment you have!

When I read My Paper, I normally pay attention to the "HELPDESK" column which is a translation of some words used in the report. This is sometimes useful and helpful for my own translation work.

However, I noticed many times that the translation are not necessary according to the use in context I was especially tickled by what appeared on January 6 page A17, in the report about Tiger Woods.

Writer Buzz Bissinger also revisits the embarrassing interview that Woods gave to GQ magazine in 1997, when he joked about lesbian sex and the endowments of black athletes.

The word "endowment" was picked for translation. The Chinese word provided was 天赋, literally "bestowed by Heaven". The Chinese word typically refers to some quality, especially talent, which someone is born with. In some ways, this is an accurate translation of "endowment". However, I wonder this actually help some Chinese reader to under its use in context.

In this case, endowment is not referring to any sporting talents of black athletes. It is actually an euphemism for the sexual organ, with the implication that it is big. In fact, I wonder if the person who picked the word for translation actually realized that or not (I would not have picked that word to avoid the complexities of pointing out the hidden meaning).

I had never heard of the Chinese word 天赋 being used in anyway that could have a connection to the sexual organ. It's another case of meaning lost in translation.

How to translate corn

Sace dhavati te cittam
kamesu ca bhavesu ca
khippam nigganha satiya
kitthadam viya duppasum.

If your mind runs wild among
sensual pleasures and things that arise,
quickly restrain it with mindfulness
as one pulls the cow from the corn.

如果心念狂奔于
爱欲与生有中，
尽快以正念制服住，
好比勒住要吃玉米的牛只。
(my translation into Chinese)

This another interesting case of "lost in translation". On the surface, the translation of kittha (Pali) to corn (English) and finally to 玉米(Chinese), seemed perfectly alright. However, as pointed out in the post "Is there corn during Buddha's time?", maize was introduced out of America only in the 14th/15th century.

I consulted with Ven. Dhammika. Indeed, maize is not known in India during Buddha's time. In this context, "corn" should be interpreted as grain.

I had always known of corn as another name for maize. I checked a couple of dictionaries and found that corn also means "the edible seed of certain other cereal plants, esp. wheat in England and oats in Scotland."

The English translation is thus correct, although it could lead to misunderstanding since corn is more commonly understood as maize nowadays.

The problem comes in the Chinese translation. The Chinese word 玉米 can only mean "maize" and do not carry the meaning of "grain". Thus my Chinese translation is technically wrong.

I tried to cross check with other Chinese translations and found the following two:

心若生贪欲，应当自谴责；如缚田中牛，不使伤稼禾。 -- translated as "crops"

汝心若欲起诸欲，终日奔驰生有间，疾以正念来制服，如制恶畜食生谷。-- translated as "grains"

Perhaps they did not make the mistake as the translators were able to translate directly from Pali.

Is there corn during Buddha's time?

Sace dhavati te cittam
kamesu ca bhavesu ca
khippam nigganha satiya
kitthadam viya duppasum.

If your mind runs wild among
sensual pleasures and things that arise,
quickly restrain it with mindfulness
as one pulls the cow from the corn.

- Theragatha, verse 446.

I came across this verse many times as I was working on the Chinese translation of Gemstone of the Good Dhamma.

I did not see any problem with it until I remembered something I had read about corn. Corn is native to America. It was only introduced to the rest of the world after the Europeans got in touch with America in the 14th/15th century.

So theoretically, corn was not know in India during Buddha's time.

I checked a Pali-English dictionary. It explains kittha as corn.

I am wondering if kittha is really corn as we know it today or something else...

谁吃了蜡肉和雷茶？ Of waxed meat and thunder tea

最近常看见“腊肉”译成 waxed meat, 而“擂茶”译成 thunder tea。

这根本就是错的！

因为“腊肉”不是“蜡肉”！而“擂茶”也不是“雷茶”！

“腊”是指冬季，而腊肉是旧时冬天腌制的肉类，并非以蜡来腌制肉类！

客家擂茶，是以陶制擂碗将茶叶和各种材料研磨成粉泡制。“擂”就是研磨的意思。这茶与“雷”风马牛不相及。

这两种译法根本就是译者把中文里的同音相近字混淆了。问题是语言是约定俗成的，错久成对，在新加坡，腊肉已变成了“蜡肉”而擂茶也变成了“雷茶”！


In Singapore, it is quite common to see the mention of "waxed meat" (especially around Chinese New Year) and the Hakka Thunder Tea.

Both translations are really a confusion arising from very similar Chinese characters that are homonyms.

The Chinese word for "waxed meat" is 腊肉, which really has nothing got to do with wax. 腊 refers to the winter season, in particular, the last month in the Chinese calendar which is around December or January. As opposed to common misunderstanding, the meat is really not preserved with wax! The problem comes from the confusion with another word 蜡, which means wax. Of course, the waxy and shinny texture and look of the meat does not help. I used to be horrified thinking that the meat is preserved with something like candle wax, and wondered if it isn't detrimental to our health.

The Hakka Thunder Tea, too has nothing got to do with thunder and lightning at all. The Chinese words 擂茶 refers to the tea that is made from pounding the tea leaves along with other ingredients like sesame seeds and peanuts. 擂 refers to the pounding action. It all probably started with some translator who mistook 擂 (meaning pounding) with 雷 (meaning thunder). Both words sound almost the same except for the tone. Well, this has now become the de facto translation in Singapore. You see Thunder Tea in The Straits Times and stores selling this dish. I would be interested to see what is it called in English in Taiwan. I'll watch out for this when I'm there next month.

Meanwhile, I guess I will continue to enjoy Hakka Thunder Tea, but I really won't eat any waxed meat even though there is no wax in it, simply because I'm vegetarian.

真正的艺术家

白求恩（Norman Bethume） 的那一篇 A True Artist 要翻译的话实在是不容易。

这一篇是挺不错的翻译，值得参考。

真正的艺术

真正的艺术家狂放不羁。他自由自在，悠然自得地在自己个性的川流中畅游。他倾听自我，尊重自我。

他以深海巨鲸的姿态，浮现在日常生活中的阳光下，打破人们习以为常的平静生活的洋面，轻松愉快、严肃认真、嬉笑自若。他酷爱生活，拥抱生活。他渴望与各种人物同命运，共呼吸。他成了所有人都化身。

艺术家的职责就是要惊世骇俗，唤醒沉睡的人们，震撼那些自鸣得意的社会中坚。他提醒世人不要忘记在黑暗中摸索的往昔岁月，向他们昭示当今世界，并为他们指引新生的道路。他既是时代的产儿，也是时代的先锋。在他亮相后，人们始感困惑，开始对那些本来深信不疑的事物产生了怀疑。他令静止、固定、僵死的一切开始躁动起来。在一个惧怕变革的世界里，他公开宣扬，变革乃是生活之本。他是一个鼓动家，一个打破平静生活的人物--聪颖敏捷、充满渴望、坚定果断、不知疲倦和引发不安。他是活跃于人类灵魂中富有创造力的精灵。

摘自《译心译意》

Translating Dukkha

One of the five things which Ven Xuanzang that should not be translated by meaning are words with subtle meaning.

I was reading this on the web and the example that was commonly given was the word prajna. This word is normally not translated as wisdom in Chinese, but is transliterated as "bo re" (般若).

What came to my mind, however, is the word Dukkha.

Dukkha, is a very fundamental Buddhist concept. It is the First Noble Truth and is one of the Three Marks of Existence.

It is commonly translated as suffering. The Chinese equivalent for Dukkha is ku (苦) which also means suffering (it also means bitter).

But suffering or ku does not quite convey the subtle meaning behind Dukkha. This has caused a lot of confusion and misunderstanding, even among Buddhists, because suffering conveys a rather intense and strong feeling. But while Dukkha means suffering, it also means things being in a unsatisfactory state or imperfect state.

As a result, recently, some people started to translate Dukkha as "unsatisfactoriness". That's quite a mouthful, though perhaps closer to the meaning of Dukkha.

The trend I see, however, is not to translate Dukkha and just use Pali or Sanskrit word as it is. That is perhaps a better way.

In Chinese, Dukkha has long been translated as "ku" and is well established. I have not seen any attempts to change it, though it frequently results in similar misunderstanding as the English word "suffering".

I tried to look up the some Buddhist dictionaries to see if there were old or archaic Chinese transliteration for Dukkha. (Some terms had archaic transliteration that are not in use now. e.g. Dharma was also know as "da mo" 达摩, although now "fa" 法, meaning law, is the established word used.) But I have not found any yet.

五不翻 The Five Transliteration

今天上课，老师提及玄奘法师乃一大翻译家，并立有“五不翻”的原则，故而查究。

玄奘所立之“五不翻”：

1. 秘密故。含有微妙深隐之意不翻；如真言与陀罗尼。
2. 多含故。含有多层意义，不择一而翻；应先译音，再讲解普及。
3. 此无故。中国、东土所无，不翻。
4. 顺古故。既已有的译音，不再重译。
5. 生善故。只可意会，不可言传者，要译音。

我想这些原则，现代翻译依然可用得上。

The Five Transliterations

Ven. Xuanzang of the Tang Dynasty was a great translator. He established a principle of using transliteration instead of translating the meaning under five circumstances.

1. Words with secret or esoteric meanings. Eg. mantras and dharanis.
2. Words with multiple meanings. E.g Bhagavat/Bhagavan has multiple meanings. Choosing one of the meaning to translate would result in the loss of the other meanings. It's better to transliterate and then further explain with notes.
3. Words for things which did not exist in China (and hence in local language).
4. Words with established transliteration. If some terms had prior transliteration, use the transliteration instead of a new translation. E.g. Xuanzang used a transliteration of Anuttara-samyak-sambodhi which had been in used since the Han Dynasty, although he did shorten it in some instances.
   
5. Words with subtle meanings. E.g. Although prajna is frequently translated as "wisdom", the word "wisdom" cannot convey the deeper and more subtle meaning behind the prajna.

I think these are still very applicable for use in our current translation of Buddhist texts.

请别伫立在我坟前哭泣

请别伫立在我坟前哭泣，
我不在那里，我沒有睡去。
我是清风，拂过千遍；
我是钻耀，粼粼雪面；
我是金光，洒落满田；
我是秋雨，细细绵绵；
我是星光，淡耀夜里；
当你醒来，清晨静谧，
倾听鸟儿盘旋升空，
我就是那翼下之风！
请别伫立在我坟前哭泣，
我不在那里，我沒有逝去。

翻译讲的是“信、达、雅”。我常犯的毛病就是“宁顺而不信”。为了译文的通顺，常有省略或过分更动。译这首诗时，似乎又犯病了。但我觉得，译诗应忠实于诗意，不一定要忠实于字面吧!

这首诗以一个亡灵的观点来写，借以抚慰丧亲人。诗里有诸多意象（imagery)，以一种洒脱、安宁和柔情带来安慰。在翻译时，我尽量做的是把这些意念带出。

诗的第一句是简单直接的。我原先译成“请别在我坟前哭泣”，省掉了原文中的stand。我认为这不重要吧。另一方面，考虑到华人在坟前一般是跪着的吧。是站是跪，有不同的感觉吗？我拿捏不定，最后还是决定把stand带出，加了“伫立”。

第二句，主要的斟酌的是如何译sleep。多数译文用“沉睡”。沉睡是比较优美，但我觉得“睡去”会更好。第一是为了和“泣”押韵。第二，我觉得“没有睡去”更能表现出没有离去的感觉，比较贴近诗的心境。

有一首日语歌把第三句译成“我化作千风”，而歌名就是“千风之歌”。这接近原文字面，味道也不错。但我比较喜欢另一人译的：“我是千万遍的风拂过”。“拂过”，就像抚慰着安慰的对象。我把“千”从“风”转移到“拂过”，或许更能传达抚慰的心情。起初我译成“我是微风，拂过千遍”，但后来觉得
“清风”会比“微风”好，更能表现出亡灵的洒脱。有人用“疾风”，我就觉得破坏了诗意，失去的抚慰的心意。

许多译文把“I am the diamond glints on snow”这一句的重点放在diamond或snow上，把亡灵当作钻石或白雪。我的注意的则是glint。看这一句，我脑海浮现的是白雪上粼粼闪烁的光芒。原先，我译成“我是凌光，雪中浮艳”。我认为“凌光”就能带出diamond glint 的意象，不必硬要说“钻石”。但“雪中浮艳”就不理想。这只是为了和前一句押韵。想了很久，终于想到用“粼粼”。不过这就似乎和“凌光”起冲突。我不喜欢在同一句用了同音字。后来把改成“钻耀”，译回diamond这字。

当我读到“I am the sunlight on ripened grain”时，我想象的是一片金碧辉煌的稻田。金色，由ripen和sunlight带出。许多人把grain译成“谷粒”，这是直译，但少了一股旷阔荡漾的心情。我选择把grain译成田。起初，我把sunlight译成“日晖”，但是却失去的ripen的含义。最后我不直接译出sun 和 ripen，而是以“金光”带出阳光照在成熟稻田的景象。

诗的第七至第九，我认为是诗的高潮，却也是美中不足之处。前面几句都是对比的，每一对都押韵。这四句虽然都有押韵，但是理解上，却是前三句一组，留下落单的一句，似乎是为了押韵强行加上去的。

落单的那一句，“I am the soft starlight at night”，是挺不错的。这里有双声也有叠韵。但我总觉得破坏的诗的高潮，有一点anti-climax。考虑了很久，我觉得把这一句调到前面去，比较合乎前面的格局，也保留了另三句带来的高潮，再来也有一个从夜晚到天亮的时间过程。

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.

这三句是比较难译的。多数的译文，把亡灵译成鸟。但是原文是I am the rush， 而不是 I am the bird！可是 rush 是什么呢？

先看第一句，许多人把重点放在morning。但我认为重点是hush。这词在此非常重要。它不只带出了一股宁静，传达了一种安宁，更给下一句的rush带来强烈对比，并改变了rush的意思。Rush 原来是急促的意思，但是因为前面的hush，我认为它变成了声音，是鸟儿展翅飞翔的声音，只有静谧（hush)中，才能听到的rush。

鸟儿的速度是另一字swift带出的。Swift是轻快的，不急不促的。不少人把swift译成燕子，我觉得是理解错了。我有考虑过swift会不会带双关，暗指那些鸟是燕子呢？我对燕子不是很了解，印象中好像是挺吵闹的，似乎不是 quiet birds，所以我不认为是燕子。

这三句带来了一个转折。前面亡灵说他如何存留世间，这里则转而呼唤哭泣的人。其中，最令我激动的是uplifting，也是诗的高潮。Uplifting，多振奋人心，多么令人释怀安心。如何译成这些意念呢？我想了很久，最后从另一首歌得到灵感，那就是 Wing beneath my wings， 翼下之风！

翼下之风，带出来rush所表达的声音，也表达了uplifting的意思。似乎，亡灵在说：我就是那翼下之风，默默地扶持着你！

最后两句结尾，基本是重复前面两句。最后那个die字，有人译为离去或死去。我选择了逝去，我觉得更能表达“我死了，但并没有消失”的感觉。

我是不懂得诗的。这只是一个尝试。见拙之处有待批评！