The Linguist

12 The Linguist Vol/62 No/1 thelinguist.uberflip.com FEATURES Stephen Spender Prize winner Amy Lawson examines her translation choices for Anja Kampmann's 'The Mole' In my A-level German class we often have discussions about our translations: which English idiom would fit this particular German expression; what would be the most accurate meaning of Schadenfreude; how should we translate the passive voice? The pieces we translate for the course are often short and informative, focusing on issues such as social media or integration in Germany. Translating poetry was something I knew I wanted to try, but it felt poles apart from what I'd done before. This was where I was proven wrong. Although Anja Kampmann's 'The Mole', a striking and thought-provoking poem about nature and the deeper areas of our minds, has little in common with passages of German law, I came to realise that translation is a skill that transgresses such boundaries. Both text types require the same close analysis and consideration, the same attention to detail, the same careful arrangement of syntax. The translation of poetry also has the advantage of allowing us to step into the worlds the poet creates: from the liminal spaces that exist between languages to the resulting translation. Entering the Stephen Spender Prize greatly increased my awareness of literary translation and its importance, helping me to develop my confidence in German and my passion for language. What first struck me about 'The Mole' was the irregular appearance of the poem on the page. Although, arguably, poetry is meant to be listened to first and foremost, the way it looks can strongly inform our interpretation of its meaning. 'The Mole' is arranged in free verse, with frequent enjambment (where the meaning runs over from one line to the next), and stylised in lowercase letters – a common feature of contemporary poetry. The idea that German – a language known for its rigid structure – could be transformed into a smooth, almost lyrical poem seemed remarkable to me. I wanted to preserve the 'clear rhythm' (deutlichen rhythmus) that is described in the poem and also seems to pervade it, as it gradually builds to a crescendo in the second stanza. But how? The answer was to keep the form identical to the original. With the help of a recording of the poem, I decided to write a translation which, like the original, was paced and deliberate yet breathless and urgent in places. One of the things I found somewhat intriguing was the titular figure: the mole itself. For me, the mole is both a gentle and a spectral character, one whose 'rosy snout' (rosige rüssel) appears to conceal something more. The true meaning behind Kampmann's metaphor – where you could "speak about moles and know what it meant" (in der man über maulwürfe sprechen konnte/ und wusste, womit man es zu tun hat) – burrows deep beneath ground level, just like the mole, which is one of the things I found so enchanting about the poem. I chose to paint a gentle portrait of the mole in the first stanza, translating grabehände as 'burrowing paws' and contrasting the 'stabbing rods' (metallene stäbe) with the mole's 'soft skin' (weiche felle). Later, the harmless mole 'peppered' the meadow with molehills (die wiese war von hügeln durchzogen) to emphasise its vulnerability. For me, the mole had to be elusive – a good-natured creature of the earth, but one which also guarded secrets. Poring over my translations in class now, I relish the detailed attention that the process requires: "'pervaded with hills, filled…' No, that's not quite right. 'Peppered'? 'The meadow was peppered with hills'. That's it!" I delight in discovering new turns of phrase, and thus new ways of viewing the world. I look forward to seeing the places this will take me. To read the original poem and Amy's translation, visit www.stephen-spender.org/ highly-commended-18-and-under-amy-lawson Digging deep © SHUTTERSTOCK

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