Stavros Deligiorgis is an expert in speech, for whom meanings like angelic or demonic lead to the same point. I met him in Neptun, at this year’s Colloquium of translators. His fascinating personality cannot be easily unraveled, hiding (how else?) behind words again.
Gia Iova: What was the beginning?
Stavros Deligiorgis: I was a professor of medieval languages and literatures at Iowa University, where writers from Romania used to come periodically in order to attend the “International Writers Workshop.” Among them, Alexandru Ivasiuc, Constanta Buzea, Adrian Paunescu, Marin Sorescu, Cezar Baltag, atefan Banulescu. I translated fragments from all these writers, except for Ivasiuc, who came at Iowa in a year when I was missing, as I had been invited to give some lectures at Illinois University. I hope that I won’t be misunderstood when saying that these poets, even though they were speaking English, were not able to easily communicate in this language. Some of them had brought already-made translations from Romania, not bad, but I tried something new. I translated Cezar Baltag imitating even his very rhythmic language. Then I read his poems in front of an American audience and they made an impression. From atefan Banulescu I translated a part of “Songs from the plain” and a chapter from “The winter of man” that I liked very much, it is a very beautiful poetic prose. Then came “Jonas” by Marin Sorescu. Just after I translated it, I found out that somebody else had done the same thing, at a university in the east of America.
G.I.: That’s all?
S.G.: No, that’s a tenth, maybe half of a tenth. I translated Tristan Tzara, Eugen Ionescu (the poems written in Romanian), Urmuz. The translation from Urmuz was published here, at Casa Romaneasca Publishing House, others were issued in American and British magazines, and “The cold” by Marin Sorescu, at Junimea Publishing House from Iasi, in 1978. Cezar Baltag’s book “Unicorn in oglinda” in my translation is “Unicorn in the Looking Glass” and was published by Cartea Romaneasca as well, in 1979. The English version of Nichita Stanescu’s “Opere incomplete” – “Unfinished works” – illustrated by Sorin Dumitrescu, was issued by the same publishing house in 1979.
G.I.: What drives you to reformulate letters written by others?
S.D.: The poetry I found when I first returned to Romania (I left in ’47, I came back in ’74) was mostly written in a mechanic style, many authors were slaves to tango-age lyrics. Now, none of them is heard of. The ones that I translated though, Tonegreanu, Blandiana, Petre Stoica and others were writing though poetry posing interesting problems.
G.I.: Here in Neptun there seems to be a general phenomenon: most translators are dealing with poetry and less with prose…
S.D.: When I was translating, I was focussed on my work, I did not know that others were translating the same texts. Only here I found out that my translations were and are competing with those belonging to other translators, from Great Britain and the United States.
G.I.: Do you take pride in your own versions?
S.D.: I suppose I do. But on the other hand I think that I am defeated just before the beginning. I almost do not wish my translations to be read by people that haven’t first read the poets from their own countries.
G.I.: Are you writing in your turn?
S.D.: I am, but I am not speaking about this and I write very little. I need such moments in order to survive mentally and emotionally. But this is somewhat like the attraction of a deceitful light. My opinion is that we should not be very legible as humans.
G.I.: And yet, this is exactly what translators should avoid. They have to be legible (or illegible), the same way as writers do.
S.D.: Unfortunately, there are cheaters among them. I rather count on an intuitive connection between reader and text, connection that I otherwise cultivate. And I like the talisman-book, easy, clear, tending to be an oracle. I prefer vivid, powerful texts.