5 stars for Loynaz's work, 3 stars for the translation.

It is a brave move for a publishing company to put out side by side language editions. Brave, and also maybe not so brave. In this case, it was a necessary move to offer the raw brilliance of Loynaz's language beside O'Connor's incredibly concise work bringing her poems to English. Of course, translating poetry is such a difficult undertaking, not unsimilar to interpreting jokes, but here I gotta say, there were times when the straight to the point English style really missed out on the rhythm in baffling ways. Take this instance:

CI

La criatura de isla pareceme, no se por que, una criatura distinta. Mas leve, mas sutil, mas sensitiva.

Translation:

The island creature seems to me, I don't know why, a different kind of creature. Lighter, subtler, more sensitive.

As you can see, this is not a bad translation at all. It gets the job done and it does contain an accuracy of meaning. I'm using this example, however, to bring up a pattern throughout the book. O'Connor often edits out word repetition and straightens out word order. It is my assertion that in doing so he saps too much feeling from the work, which, let's be honest, if Loynaz had anything to offer it was feeling. Why not write it closer to the original? "...a distinct creature. Lighter, more subtle, more sensitive." Sure, that isn't very concise, but it shadows way more of the rhythms that make Loynaz pop off the page as her work so often does.

I'm sure I'm completely offending all my translator friends on here, several of whose excellent Spanish translations I have read. I'll admit, me poking at O'Connor's work is a consequence of the side by side publication and I am very much an armchair translator (if that epithet even applies here -- look at me, I can't even write in English. How dare I critique a translation!).

I still think this is worth pursuing. Especially if you haven't been exposed to Loynaz's work, which is so moving.

CIII

Like this river that keeps running although it will never arrive anywhere, I chose life, my love, running toward you.
Running toward you along a path that was always longer than my water, even though my water never ended and it was my heart pushing it along.
I have lived my death and I have died my life in your direction, feeling my way through darkness, confusing faces.
Like this river. Yes, like this slow, blind river that can't stop or turn back or break away from the rock from which it was born.
The distance of a river has been our distance, the river that never ends, even if I walk, day and night, my entire life.


This one is my favorite translation in the book. I wouldn't be able to choose from the originals, however.