On his Facebook page, the poet published a small in volume, but limitless in thought, an essay about the problem of translating poems into other languages.
Alexandr Korotko is being translated intensively, first of all, into English, but not only. His texts (poems, rhymed and non-rhymed poems, including one-line, poetic prose) have been translated over the years into Hebrew, Ukrainian, Polish, French, German, Italian, Greek, Croatian, Azerbaijani, and recently into Chinese.
Of course, not all translations are successful. Complicated metaphorically, versification, philosophically, intellectually, rhythmically (this evaluative series can be continued and continued) Alexander Korotko’s poetry requires the translator to immerse himself completely in it, and only then can we talk about quality.
The author proclaims important conditions: it is ideal for the author and the translator to coincide in time and space (stay on earth), so that they can communicate not only virtually (modern communication capabilities allow this).
When can we talk about the result?
If the translator knows the language perfectly; accurately conveys the light, music, colors and emotional range of poetry; understands and accepts the sensual, spiritual world of the author; if both are in resonance.
In his essay, which the author considers “The translation Instructions”, questions are raised from the depths to the heights of understanding the tasks facing those who dare to present to readers in other languages this amazing, unlike anyone else’s world of his poetry.
What is this deeply personal and, at the same time, concerning a fairly large number of artists, in the broadest sense of the word, Korotko’s literary statement about? Look for the answer in the concise and accurate text of the essay “About the Translation and Translators”.
*** I dreamed of your eyes - islands of loneliness in the ocean of human…
While night declaims, essential peacefully melts, dissolves, disappears in the cloudless air of life-giving oblivion.…
*** The last city, of the last star. Holidays of happiness. Years of doubt, years…
*** Childhood – flower pollen, garden of time is fading, prairie of expectations, silk grass,…
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