The Translation Problem Solved

A une Damoyselle Malade

Ma mignonne,
Je vous donne
Le bon jour;
Le séjour
C’est prison.
Guérison
Recouvrez,
Puis ouvrez
Votre porte
Et qu’on sorte
Vitement,
Car Clément
Le vous mande.
Va, friande
De ta bouche,
Qui se couche
En danger
Pour manger
Confitures;
Si tu dures
Trop malade,
Couleur fade
Tu prendras,
Et perdras
L’embonpoint.
Dieu te doint
Santé bonne,
Ma mignonne.

This poem by Clément Marot, written in 1537, is used by Douglas Hofstadter in Le ton beau de Marot as an example of the difficulties facing the translator. Given a poem with such specific form and structure, and the virtual impossibility of retaining all of these while matching the tone and preserving the meaning and ambiguities in another language, what are the priorities in a translation? There have been very many translations of this poem (I made one myself once) but now, with the wonderful Babelfish at http://babelfish.altavista.digital.com/babelfish/, there's no longer any need to worry about such things, because translation is simply a matter of clicking a button. Here's Babelfish's English version of Ma Mignonne:

My nice, I give you the good day; The stay It is prison. Cure Cover, Then open Your door And that one left Vitement, Car Clement you mande. Goes, fond of delicacies Of your mouth, Which lies down In danger to eat Confitures; If you hard Too sick, insipid Couleur You will take, And lose the plumpness. God you doint good Health, My nice.

And for my Spanish-speaking readership, here it is:

Mi agradable, les doy el buen día; La estancia es prisión. Curación cubren, luego abren Su puerta y que se sacó Vitement, ya que Clemente ustedes m. Va, aficionada de tu boca, Que durmió en peligro para comer Mermeladas; Si ti duras demasiado enfermo, Color insípido tomará, y perderá la gordura. Dios ti doint Salud buena, Mi agradable.

For English-speaking readers who don't have Spanish, here's Babelfish's English translation of its own Spanish version:

My pleasant one, I give them good day; The stay is prison. Treatment covers, soon they open Its door and that removed Vitement, since Merciful you m. Va, fan of your mouth, That slept in danger to eat Jams; If too ill you hard, insipid Color it will take, and lose the obesity. God you doint good Health, My pleasant one.

So farewell to human translators. Babelfish removes the need for people to spend time producing translations like those that I quote now.

This first one I've posted before, but Tom Leonard's translation of a poem into a different context is so wonderful that I can't resist doing it again. For non-Scots, just read it aloud: "Special" is Scottish beer.

Jist ti Let Yi No
from the American of Carlos Williams

ahv drank
thi speshlz
that wurrin
thi frij

n thit
yiwurr probbli
hodn back
furthi pahrti

awright
they wur great
thaht stroang
thaht cawld

And here are two translations by Sidney Goodsir Smith (1915-75), known as "The Auk". ("Howff" and "snug" are both pubs or taverns.)

Sappho
For Edith Sitwell

deduke men a selanna

Dwynit is the mune awa
And the Pleiades, the nicht
Is at her mid, the hours flee, and I
- My lane I ligg.

Another Version
For Hector MacIver

The howffs are shut langsyne,
The late snugs tae;
The whures are all abed
- And the Auk his lane ...
........................Pissed, of course!