It’s evident to me that for all you try to hide it (“This is done not in order to show superiority but…”), you do indeed consider translation a “bother,” not only for the translator but for the reader and the original as well. I certainly don’t see it that way, & I bet Ashbery doesn’t either. Rather, I see translation as a gift: a gift to the reader who doesn’t know the language of the original, a gift to the reader who does know the language of the original but may still want the “illumination” of a certain perspective, and a gift to the original poem, paying it forward, as we say. Lamenting that people who don’t like Dante don’t know Italian is kind of like lamenting that there are poor people in the world without working to improve the situation (are you suggesting I learn Italian to read Dante before I’ve read any translations that might let me know if I’d find such effort worthwhile?).

So why would a poet translate something when he could be writing his own material instead? Maybe because he feels like he has something to offer that previous translators have not; maybe because he wants to expand the range of literature in English; maybe because he identifies with the poet he’s translating to the extent that he doesn’t distinguish between original and translation; maybe because he hasn’t won any major translation prizes, and he wants to fill out his mantel; maybe–this is the one I like best–because he feels like translation is no less an activity than creating his own work.

But you tell me… didn’t you translate Aristophanes’s Frogs? Why?

Lucas

I DON’T care for Dante (The Divine Comedy seems to me a list rather than a narrative, and has no characters that engage me) but I DO realise that a knowledge of Italian might change that!

I look forward to reading Ashbery’s translations. I’m going to buy the book for sure.