This is my translation from French of 'Soir d'hiver' by Emile Nelligan (1879-1941), one of Quebec's great poets. You can also find the original poem below.
The story of Emile Nelligan is tragic in the extreme. The son of an Irishman and a Quebecois woman, he was influenced by the Symbolist poets such as Verlaine and Baudelaire, and published some of his poems in Montreal when he was only 16. He had already produced a considerable and impressive body of work by the time he was 19, when the sensitive poet suffered a massive mental breakdown from which he never recovered. Nelligan lived into his sixties, but was never able to write any more new poetry. Despite this, he is considered a great French-Canadian poet and romantic figure.
I found this poem quite challenging: that said, it's probably one of Nelligan's most straightforward and accessible poems, and certainly one of the most famous. I attempted to preserve a similar rhyme scheme, but I admit that in places it is a loose or free translation, in terms of wording. I hope I captured some of the spirit of the poem, at least.
(I have titled my translation 'Winter Night', though it may be that 'Winter Evening' is actually more accurate. The imagery is just so dark...)
WINTER NIGHT (Emile Nelligan, translated from the French by Clarissa Aykroyd)
It has snowed, oh, how it has snowed!
My window's blooming, a garden of frost.
It has snowed and it has snowed...
The spur of life seems all but lost
To this agony in me, in me...
Every lake is gripped by ice. Where am I,
And which way, through my soul's black night?
All my hopes are cold, bled dry:
I am the new North, the Arctic heights
From which the midnight sun has fled.
Weep, birds of winter,
For the deadly chill through all.
Wail, February birds -
Tears must fall like roses fall
Through the sharp juniper branches.
It has snowed, oh, how it has snowed!
My window's blooming, a garden of frost.
It has snowed and it has snowed...
The stab of life seems almost lost
To all the dread in me, in me...
SOIR D'HIVER (Emile Nelligan)
Ah ! comme la neige a neigé !
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah ! comme la neige a neigé !
Qu’est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A la douleur que j’ai, que j’ai !
Tous les étangs gisent gelés,
Mon âme est noire : Où vis-je ? où vais-je ?
Tous ses espoirs gisent gelés;
Je suis la nouvelle Norvège
D’où les blonds ciels s’en sont allés.
Pleurez, oiseaux de février,
Au sinistre frisson des choses,
Pleurez, oiseaux de février,
Pleurez mes pleurs, pleurez mes roses,
Aux branches du genévrier.
Ah ! comme la neige a neigé !
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah ! comme la neige a neigé !
Qu’est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A tout l’ennui que j’ai, que j’ai !...
Translation © Clarissa Aykroyd, 2013.
Somehow this poem reminds me of Jacques Brel's 'On n'oublie rien', perhaps because of its repetitive haunting phrases, dark mood, internal rhythmic peculiarities--I don't know. The odd expression 'come la neige a neigé!' is disturbing, somehow, but also strangely expectant and almost euphoric: I think you have rendered this especially effectively in English. Your third stanza is stunning. I can see why you found the whole thing so hard to do, though from the result in doesn't look it.
ReplyDeleteThanks - I'm glad you like the translation! You're right about the Jacques Brel. The repetition effect in 'Soir d'hiver' is perhaps more typical of a song. It's worth noting that Emile Nelligan loved music, was deeply influenced by it and wrote about it in some poems.
DeleteIt is definitely a dark and disturbing poem - especially when you know about his life - and combined with the sort of naivety/almost funny quality of "ah comme la neige a neigé", it's also unusual. I find it hard to detach the poems from the knowledge of the mental illness he fell prey to. They are very interior poems and so, so dark even for an angsty teenager...
I like this translation very much, especially, as nordicmountain says, the brilliant third stanza.
ReplyDeleteI hope you don't mind that you have inspired me to make an attempt myself.....
Hi James! Thank you - and no, of course I don't mind - I have no Nelligan monopoly!
DeleteYou should have posted the link to your translation, so here it is! http://circumstanceandmagic.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/blog-post.html
I think this is excellent and I wonder if you were not right to be a little more literal than I was... The sounds in the original are a little more clipped, which is obviously partly because it's in French - but I think yours is closer to that; I did wonder if mine became a little too, er, flowy? Also, I think "void hours" is a great translation of "ennui".
Hi Clarissa , I like your translation , it sounds perfect . I am Sudanese , native Arabic tongue . I love poem translating , I do some , mainly from English to Arabic , in few cases vise versus. Your article on Al-Raddi poems in PTC , led my clicks to this nice blog....will keep diving for diamonds, shining here.
ReplyDeleteKind Regards ...
Hi Ibrahim - thanks so much for visiting and for your nice comment!
DeleteTranslating poetry is a difficult but wonderful exercise, it leads to so many interesting things. I love Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi's poems - I think he is a genius. I also helped with the PTC's translation of a poem by his friend Ateif Khieri, which I found remarkable.