Rich and Strange Aeons

I suppose it's fitting that a poem about language should attract some attention from translators after it wins the Hugo Award, but I didn't see it coming.

Cuentos para Algernon has published my work once before, a translation of "Waiting for Beauty" as "Esperando a que Bella . . .". A little while ago, Marcheto came back to ask if she could also translate "A War of Words" -- a query that left me staring in a bit of surprise at my computer screen, because I'd legit never thought anybody would be interested in translating my poetry. The result went live today, as "Pillaje de palabras."

Nor will that be the only one! There's also a Romanian translation in the works!

But this one is a little special, because as you may recall, I spent 2024 bludgeoning myself up to something like reading proficiency in Spanish so I could do broader research for the Sea Beyond. When Marcheto asked to translate "Waiting for Beauty," I could kinda read the result, but mostly because I already knew what it said. This time around, I was actually in a position to collaborate more actively with her: the translation is Marcheto's, but I read a draft and gave feedback, suggesting some slight alterations to bring it more in line with my original intent.

This was a fascinating process. Every translator knows there are always choices to make -- and they're not right or wrong choices, just questions of priority and style. For example: if you were to translate the title for its literal meaning, it would be "Una guerra de palabras," and that's what Marcheto originally went with. She proposed "Pillaje de palabras" as an alternative, though, because I had mentioned at the outset that I wanted to preserve the elements of alliteration within the poem if it could be done naturally in Spanish. It's a less direct translation, but one that emphasizes the poetic quality of the title.

Or take the places where languages can't quite re-create each other's effects. Marcheto originally translated "raid" as "incursión," which is of course completely reasonable. In reading the Spanish draft, though, I became aware of something I'd done entirely on reflex when writing the poem: the text leans heavily toward short, simple, Germanic-derived words, rather than Latinate ones, because the former tend to sound more direct and harsh than the latter. What do you do, though, when the language of the translation is Latinate through and through? I suggested, and Marcheto agreed with, "ataque" instead, which sounds a little sharper (and assonates with "arrebatada" to boot). The same happened with "existe una palabra" becoming "hay una palabra": she said, and I believe her, that "existe" doesn't sound at all high-flown to Spanish speakers, the way that "a word exists" sounds fancier in English than "there's a word" . . . but "hay una" flows off the tongue a little more smoothly, so that's what we went with.

All told, my suggested alterations were few and minor. (There were also a couple she stood her ground on -- which was entirely fair; she's the native speaker!) But it was a really intriguing process, the first time I've been able to meaningfully contribute to the translation of my own work. It makes you think a lot about what you did and why you did it, and if you have to choose between two different priorities, which one matters to you more.

If you read Spanish, I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts on the translation!