As I prepare for the first class of term, in which we shall continue to read Ovid’s masterpiece, Metamorphoses, I find myself wondering once again whether we can ever do justice to the original Latin when we read the text in translation. As a group, we generally follow the same translation as this makes it easier when we take it turns to read aloud (just as Latin poetry was intended to be read) and I have usually researched and recommended a particular translation that I think the group will enjoy. But to add to the fun and interest, some of the group religiously follow a different translation (perhaps a copy they had at school, or indeed in the case of one member of our group, a German translation passed down to her from her grandfather, complete with scribbled notes in the margin). Others prefer to read the text onscreen (the class is on Zoom so we are all online in any event) and this combination of sources has thrown up some varied and fascinating translations, allowing us all to compare notes on the different versions.
For this blog, therefore, I thought I would show you some examples of how differently a particular passage can be translated depending on the date, style and personal preferences of the translator. I am continually curious as to what extent are they true to Ovid’s original poem, and how much (if any) is lost in translation…
The translation that I chose was by David Raeburn, a wonderful and inspiring Classicist who lived into his 90s and was translating and directing Greek plays even as a nonagenarian. I first met him when I was a shy 16 year old and he encouraged me to take part in one of his Greek plays – no-one else could have persuaded me to get on stage but his enthusiasm, kindness and passion for Greek somehow did the trick! So I probably had a slightly biased view towards using his translation over others as, whenever I read it, I can almost hear his voice on the pages. However, that may partly also be because, as he explains in his introduction to his translation (published by Penguin Classics), he finds it helpful to think of each of the 15 books of the Metamorphoses as a ‘unit of performance’. He even calculated that it would take around 70 minutes to recite each book (‘a reasonable length of time for a reciter to hold an audience’s attention’) and I have no doubt that he will have practised reciting the lines many times to check he was happy with the metre, the language and the general Ovidian flavour of his translation (a bit like a chef constantly tasting as he stirs the pot).
Further, I was also aware that for the previous texts we had read in Classics Club (including the epic poems by Homer and Virgil) the translations I had recommended happened to be prose and some of the group were keen to read a verse translation which they felt would be truer to the original. Ovid’s Metamorphoses is also an epic poem, written in the same metre as The Iliad, The Odyssey and The Aeneid, so I felt justified in going with Raeburn’s verse translation on more than just a personal level.
Before we dive into some extracts from the three main translations we have been discussing in Classics Club, it might be of interest to note the dates of the translations and the ages of the translators at the date of publication. This is because we often recognise in their choice of words either a colloquial phrase or a contemporary expression that ‘gives away’ the language of that translator’s time and generation.
Raeburn’s Penguin Classic translation was first published in 2004 when he was about 77 years’ old. (Retirement did nothing to damper his love of Classics.)
The other edition I always have on my desk when discussing the text is my Loeb. The Loeb Library is an iconic collection of Classical texts, with Greek or Latin on one side of the page and its English translation on the other. Most Classicists love to have a selection of these on their bookcases; the Latin ones are in red dust jackets, the Greek in green, and together they look fabulous! The Loeb edition of Ovid’s Metamorphoses was first published in 1916 and the translator was Frank Justus Miller, Professor in the University of Chicago. As with many Loebs, the date of publication probably explains the frequency throughout of words and phrases such as, “ ‘tis”, “naught”, and “thou mayst”.
An excellent translation that was brought to my attention by a member of the group accessing it online is that of A.S. Kline, a poet, author and translator. Coincidentally his translation was published the same year as Raeburn’s, 2004. Kline was born in 1947. His translation (along with many other of his works) is freely available online but I have enjoyed listening to it so much in class that I ordered a hard copy of the book. I still can’t resist the feel, the smell, and the sight of the printed word. The hardback has a dashing black, white and red dust jacket so it will look lovely next to my Loebs…
Without further ado, here are some examples from these three translations. I am also including the Latin in case you would like to have a go at your own translation. Even if you don’t speak Latin, I am sure you will recognise some of the words thanks to the many English derivatives we have from Latin.
Metamorphoses 5.132-3
First, a quote from a fight scene in the story of Perseus:
Ovid:
huius in obliquo missum stetit inguine ferrum:
letifer ille locus.
Raeburn:
Rich as he was, he was struck by a javelin thrown from the side
in the groin, that sensitive place…
Loeb:
Into his groin a spear hurled from the side struck;
that place is fatal.
(Note – no comment on the victim’s wealth here. Raeburn has added that into his translation above as if making a proverbial comment).
Metamorphoses 2.151-4
Next is an extract from the story of Phaëthon, the teenage boy who recklessly begs his father to lend him his chariot for a day. His father is the Sun god and the disastrous consequences which follow after he reluctantly agrees to his son’s request are full of pathos and drama.
Ovid:
statque super manibusque datas contingere habenas
gaudet et invito grates agit inde parenti.
Interea volucres Pyrois et Eous et Aethon,
Solis equi, quartusque Phlegon hinnitibus auras
flammiferis inplent
Raeburn:
Standing aloft, he excitedly seized the featherweight reins,
and shouted his thanks from the car to his worried and anxious father.
Meanwhile the sun god’s team of winged horses – Fiery, Dawnsteed,
Scorcher and Blaze – were impatiently filling the air with their whinnies
Loeb:
standing proudly, he [‘the lad’] takes the reins with joy into his hands, and thanks his unwilling father for the gift. Meanwhile the sun’s swift horses, Pyroïs, Eoüs, Aethon, and the fourth, Phlegon, fill all the air with their fiery whinnying
I love Raeburn’s anachronistic use of ‘car’ as it immediately brings to mind the modern teenager rushing off with the keys to their parents’ sports car. I still remember the look of concern on Dad’s face when he first loaned me the keys to his car not long after I had passed my driving test. I was 17. Mind you, it was a Morris Minor and I don’t recall it went much faster than 30mph even if I had wanted it to – I had to ‘double de-clutch’ which felt like an antiquarian move even back then. I don’t recall any of my peers having to learn that manoeuvre.
Notice also that Raeburn has translated the Greek names of the Sun god’s horses. A brilliant touch. The Greek names have been retained in the Loeb. By comparing the two, you can probably spot some Greek derivatives here!
Metamorphoses 5.281-2
Third, a quote from the story of Minerva and the Muses:
Ovid:
‘nec dubitate, precor, tecto grave sidus et imbrem’
(imber erat)
Raeburn:
“You mustn’t refuse to shelter under my roof in this shocking
downpour” (the weather was dreadful);
Loeb:
'do not hesitate to take shelter beneath my roof against the lowering sky and rain’ – for rain was falling - …
Kline:
'don’t be afraid, I beg you, to seek shelter from the rain and the lowering skies' (it was raining);
Kline has been truest to the simple statement in Latin, ‘it was raining’. Raeburn has got a little carried away here but perhaps that is just his love of drama showing through.
Metamorphoses 5.451-2
Fourth, from Calliope’s Song:
Ovid:
duri puer oris et audax
constitit ante deam risitque avidamque vocavit
If you read the Latin aloud, the second line will resonate with hard ‘c’ and ‘qu’ sounds – rather like a cackle or coarse laugh. The ‘dental’ sounds of the repeated ‘t’ in that line add to the effect.
Raeburn:
an insolent, coarse-looking boy strolled up in front of the goddess,
burst into laughter and jeered, “What a greedy female you are!”
Note Raeburn’s invention of direct speech when there is none in the Latin. Again, his love of theatre and vivid delivery of lines may have played a part here.
Loeb:
a coarse, saucy boy stood watching her, and mocked her and called her greedy.
I love the choice of ‘saucy’!!
Kline:
a rash, foul-mouthed boy stood watching, and taunted her, and called her greedy.
Proverbs
Latin and Greek epic poets sometimes include phrases which sound like proverbs (and indeed on some of the original manuscripts we occasionally have notes made by the ancient commentators confirming the common use of such proverbs).
Here are some proverbial style snippets from the Metamorphoses:
Ovid: 2.447
heu! quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!
Raeburn:
How difficult not to betray our guilt in our facial expression!
Loeb:
Alas, how hard it is not to betray a guilty conscience in the face!
Kline:
Alas! How hard it is not to show one’s guilt in one’s face!
Note Raeburn has omitted the ‘heu’ = ‘alas’. Does it sound too old-fashioned perhaps? How else could we translate ‘heu’?
Ovid: 2.416
sed nulla potentia longa est
Raeburn:
no one’s favour is lasting
Loeb:
no favour is of long duration
Kline:
no favor lasts for long
This could apply to so many contemporary situations, political and otherwise.
So I wonder what you think? How do the translations compare? Do you prefer one particular style over the other, or is each example different? As you can imagine, we have lively discussions in Classics Club over which is the best. Do any of them live up to the Latin? Translations are, of course, for many readers the only way to access the text and Ovid himself, I feel, would approve of this. Perhaps each translation of his epic poem could appropriately be regarded as simply yet another metamorphosis. After all, his closing lines in the poem are (as translated by Raeburn):
‘the people shall read and recite my words. Throughout all ages,
if poets have vision to prophesy truth, I shall live in my fame.’
We shall be reading and reciting Ovid’s Metamorphoses this coming Monday at 10.30am, and again at 3pm and every Monday thereafter during term time, until Spring 2025. All translations welcome!
Classics Club runs on Zoom every Monday during term-time (morning group 10.30-midday, afternoon group 3pm-4.30pm). For more details, contact Caroline through her website.
Before we dive into some extracts from the three main translations we have been discussing in Classics Club, it might be of interest to note the dates of the translations and the ages of the translators at the date of publication. This is because we often recognise in their choice of words either a colloquial phrase or a contemporary expression that ‘gives away’ the language of that translator’s time and generation.
Raeburn’s Penguin Classic translation was first published in 2004 when he was about 77 years’ old. (Retirement did nothing to damper his love of Classics.)
The other edition I always have on my desk when discussing the text is my Loeb. The Loeb Library is an iconic collection of Classical texts, with Greek or Latin on one side of the page and its English translation on the other. Most Classicists love to have a selection of these on their bookcases; the Latin ones are in red dust jackets, the Greek in green, and together they look fabulous! The Loeb edition of Ovid’s Metamorphoses was first published in 1916 and the translator was Frank Justus Miller, Professor in the University of Chicago. As with many Loebs, the date of publication probably explains the frequency throughout of words and phrases such as, “ ‘tis”, “naught”, and “thou mayst”.
An excellent translation that was brought to my attention by a member of the group accessing it online is that of A.S. Kline, a poet, author and translator. Coincidentally his translation was published the same year as Raeburn’s, 2004. Kline was born in 1947. His translation (along with many other of his works) is freely available online but I have enjoyed listening to it so much in class that I ordered a hard copy of the book. I still can’t resist the feel, the smell, and the sight of the printed word. The hardback has a dashing black, white and red dust jacket so it will look lovely next to my Loebs…
Without further ado, here are some examples from these three translations. I am also including the Latin in case you would like to have a go at your own translation. Even if you don’t speak Latin, I am sure you will recognise some of the words thanks to the many English derivatives we have from Latin.
Metamorphoses 5.132-3
First, a quote from a fight scene in the story of Perseus:
Ovid:
huius in obliquo missum stetit inguine ferrum:
letifer ille locus.
Raeburn:
Rich as he was, he was struck by a javelin thrown from the side
in the groin, that sensitive place…
Loeb:
Into his groin a spear hurled from the side struck;
that place is fatal.
(Note – no comment on the victim’s wealth here. Raeburn has added that into his translation above as if making a proverbial comment).
Metamorphoses 2.151-4
Next is an extract from the story of Phaëthon, the teenage boy who recklessly begs his father to lend him his chariot for a day. His father is the Sun god and the disastrous consequences which follow after he reluctantly agrees to his son’s request are full of pathos and drama.
Ovid:
statque super manibusque datas contingere habenas
gaudet et invito grates agit inde parenti.
Interea volucres Pyrois et Eous et Aethon,
Solis equi, quartusque Phlegon hinnitibus auras
flammiferis inplent
Raeburn:
Standing aloft, he excitedly seized the featherweight reins,
and shouted his thanks from the car to his worried and anxious father.
Meanwhile the sun god’s team of winged horses – Fiery, Dawnsteed,
Scorcher and Blaze – were impatiently filling the air with their whinnies
Loeb:
standing proudly, he [‘the lad’] takes the reins with joy into his hands, and thanks his unwilling father for the gift. Meanwhile the sun’s swift horses, Pyroïs, Eoüs, Aethon, and the fourth, Phlegon, fill all the air with their fiery whinnying
I love Raeburn’s anachronistic use of ‘car’ as it immediately brings to mind the modern teenager rushing off with the keys to their parents’ sports car. I still remember the look of concern on Dad’s face when he first loaned me the keys to his car not long after I had passed my driving test. I was 17. Mind you, it was a Morris Minor and I don’t recall it went much faster than 30mph even if I had wanted it to – I had to ‘double de-clutch’ which felt like an antiquarian move even back then. I don’t recall any of my peers having to learn that manoeuvre.
Notice also that Raeburn has translated the Greek names of the Sun god’s horses. A brilliant touch. The Greek names have been retained in the Loeb. By comparing the two, you can probably spot some Greek derivatives here!
Metamorphoses 5.281-2
Third, a quote from the story of Minerva and the Muses:
Ovid:
‘nec dubitate, precor, tecto grave sidus et imbrem’
(imber erat)
Raeburn:
“You mustn’t refuse to shelter under my roof in this shocking
downpour” (the weather was dreadful);
Loeb:
'do not hesitate to take shelter beneath my roof against the lowering sky and rain’ – for rain was falling - …
Kline:
'don’t be afraid, I beg you, to seek shelter from the rain and the lowering skies' (it was raining);
Kline has been truest to the simple statement in Latin, ‘it was raining’. Raeburn has got a little carried away here but perhaps that is just his love of drama showing through.
Metamorphoses 5.451-2
Fourth, from Calliope’s Song:
Ovid:
duri puer oris et audax
constitit ante deam risitque avidamque vocavit
If you read the Latin aloud, the second line will resonate with hard ‘c’ and ‘qu’ sounds – rather like a cackle or coarse laugh. The ‘dental’ sounds of the repeated ‘t’ in that line add to the effect.
Raeburn:
an insolent, coarse-looking boy strolled up in front of the goddess,
burst into laughter and jeered, “What a greedy female you are!”
Note Raeburn’s invention of direct speech when there is none in the Latin. Again, his love of theatre and vivid delivery of lines may have played a part here.
Loeb:
a coarse, saucy boy stood watching her, and mocked her and called her greedy.
I love the choice of ‘saucy’!!
Kline:
a rash, foul-mouthed boy stood watching, and taunted her, and called her greedy.
Proverbs
Latin and Greek epic poets sometimes include phrases which sound like proverbs (and indeed on some of the original manuscripts we occasionally have notes made by the ancient commentators confirming the common use of such proverbs).
Here are some proverbial style snippets from the Metamorphoses:
Ovid: 2.447
heu! quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!
Raeburn:
How difficult not to betray our guilt in our facial expression!
Loeb:
Alas, how hard it is not to betray a guilty conscience in the face!
Kline:
Alas! How hard it is not to show one’s guilt in one’s face!
Note Raeburn has omitted the ‘heu’ = ‘alas’. Does it sound too old-fashioned perhaps? How else could we translate ‘heu’?
Ovid: 2.416
sed nulla potentia longa est
Raeburn:
no one’s favour is lasting
Loeb:
no favour is of long duration
Kline:
no favor lasts for long
This could apply to so many contemporary situations, political and otherwise.
So I wonder what you think? How do the translations compare? Do you prefer one particular style over the other, or is each example different? As you can imagine, we have lively discussions in Classics Club over which is the best. Do any of them live up to the Latin? Translations are, of course, for many readers the only way to access the text and Ovid himself, I feel, would approve of this. Perhaps each translation of his epic poem could appropriately be regarded as simply yet another metamorphosis. After all, his closing lines in the poem are (as translated by Raeburn):
‘the people shall read and recite my words. Throughout all ages,
if poets have vision to prophesy truth, I shall live in my fame.’
We shall be reading and reciting Ovid’s Metamorphoses this coming Monday at 10.30am, and again at 3pm and every Monday thereafter during term time, until Spring 2025. All translations welcome!
Classics Club runs on Zoom every Monday during term-time (morning group 10.30-midday, afternoon group 3pm-4.30pm). For more details, contact Caroline through her website.
2 comments:
What a fascinating post, Caroline. Thank you.
Thank you, Carol. I am glad you enjoyed it!
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