The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.1988, Page 13

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
11
does not work in the blending of character;
and no formula can produce that rare,
precious and noble combination of what
we commonly call ‘heart.’ Perhaps that is
as close as we will ever come to defining a
champion.”4
Standing shoulder to shoulder with
Paul, through the years, and sharing the
bitter and the sweet of his life, has been his
wife, Ivadell. They have always worked as
a team. Paul calls her a helja. This word is a
common word for an outstanding woman.
Paul prefers to translate it as a “heroic
person.” Before their marriage, Paul wrote
this sonnet to Ivadell.
SONNET I
When I describe upon this lasting page,
The love I feel for you within my heart,
I realize tho’ we give way to age,
Tho’ time’s grim stroke will move us far apart;
Some lover long ahead in untold book.
In chapters yet unread by time’s keen eye
Will love, ad on my humble words will look,
Will think and say the same as here did I.
For love dies not as mortal lovers do,
But lights its vibrant flame in young love’s
minds,
And thrives and brightly burns unending
through
The ages, to complete its true design.
Tho’ thrones may fall, be moulds to dust
decaying,
Words live in lovers’ hearts for future saying.5
This sonnet reaches a plane far above the
commonplace. It can be judged by the
highest standards. It might have been writ-
ten by a contemporary of Shakespeare. No
one can deny to the man who wrote it the
name of poet.
Translation is the only means by which
the curse of Babel can be defeated. A writer
who writes in his native tongue speaks
only to those who know that tongue. Trans-
lators may speak in all tongues. As Ivan
Franko, the great Ukrainian man of letters,
said, a translator “builds a golden bridge of
understanding and awareness between his
nation and distant peoples and bygone
generations.”6
For those of us who know only English,
Paul Sigurdson has brought many rare
jewels to the surface from the rich mines of
Icelandic poetry. His translations start at
the top of the poetic ladder, with the work
of two Icelandic poets who reached the
summit of poetic endeavour — Stephan G.
Stephansson and Guttormur J. Guttorms-
son. He has translated Stephansson’s great
indictment of war which he calls “Battle
Pause”7 and Guttormsson’s masterpiece
“Sandy Bar.”8 Speaking broadly, there are
two ways of translating: one is to be literal,
to regard the text as sacred; the other is to
attempt a re-creation of the text, to reshape
the poet’s thought. Whichever method is
used, a good translation should read as
though it had been written in the language
into which it has been translated.
In his translations, Paul Sigurdson al-
ways aims at reproducing the tone and the
flavour and the metre of the original author.
I offer as an example of his work, his
translation of a poem by Stephansson,
“The Robber” (Shakespeare):9
He wasn’t a Viking who ravaged the shores,
He wasn’t for pillage and fire;
And yet with the deft of his quick-thieving
hand,
He mesmerized Europe’s entire.
We complain of his bias, his word-stealing
way,
His rhyme and his inconstant styling;
Yet we give him honor, forgiving him all,
So rare was his theft, and beguiling.
His right to this thieving we frankly admit,
Though statutes and rules he did sunder;
For the world has been thrilled by the
treasures he left,
The best of his fabulous plunder.
His phrases are gilded, distinctive and rare,
And each with his magic is glowing;
And others who trifle or play with his loot,
Are fooled with their shortcomings showing.
He didn’t conform to old customs and ways,
Nor statutes, nor stories in fashion;
With man’s naked passions he candidly played,
Transcending the laws of the nation.