The Concerto of Language
Recently, I came across a comparison that struck me as not only profound, but profoundly true: translation is like music. It took me a minute to see what this statement meant to express, but, as with most epiphanies, it hit me all at once.
When you look up a word and translate it into a foreign language, you are, in fact, translating. However, this does not make you a translator, just as playing a few notes on a piano does not make you a musician. What makes an effective translator and communicator is the same as what makes a talented musician — the ability to express not just words or musical notes, but meaning.
Music is a historical foundation of society. We follow certain artists and listen to certain songs to be reminded of a moment or time in our lives, to access a certain mood or emotion, and to communicate with each other, regardless of our backgrounds. The same can be said of language.
Literature, history, politics — all of these disciplines must, by their very nature, keep in mind the context and message that they are attempting to convey. What would the study of WWII be without an understanding of Germany’s Blitzkrieg (“lightning war”) tactic, or Japan’s Kamikaze (“divine wind”) approach to aerial warfare? Although an English speaker learning about WWII may not understand the direct meaning of the words, the message is clear — these approaches to war are symbolic and representative of the fierce mentality of these nations in battle.
In politics, we use the term Perestroika (“restructuring”) to recall the widespread social and economic changes in the Soviet Union fostered under Gorbachev. When speaking with someone in the Russian-speaking world about these times, they will often refer to this period of change simply as “the ’90s,” and the meaning is clear — this was the beginning of the end for the Soviet Union as a society, and marked periods of starvation, social collapse, and a growing distrust of the government.
In literature, we understand the idea of “Big Brother” as discussed by George Orwell in 1984. The sense that nothing is private to the private citizen in an over-reaching, authoritarian government, and that nationalism is founded on fear and hatred, are encapsulated by these two, simple words. The idea has even be repurposed, and transitioned into a TV series that seeks to mimic the central idea of 1984: Big Brother is always watching.
When we hear, read, or write these words, we understand the feeling of them. We understand the allegorical meaning behind the pig known as “Napoleon” in Animal Farm. We feel the thrill of the Jazz Age, and its representation of a newfound freedom, wealth, and growth in the United States. We forever repeat the phrase “I’ll be back,” as the symbol of strength and power of the actor that famously uttered those words.
In translation, words do not yield the same understanding between languages. For this reason, it is important to understand the nuances and cultural identities of the people who speak the target language. Why does the powerful quote from Martin Luther King Jr., “Free at last,” translate to “наконец-то свободен” in Russian, and how does this message resonate with a citizen from Kazakhstan who has never journeyed to the United States. Well, it turns out that it resonates quite well, as it is a phrase the recalls the categorization of nationalities and ethnicities outside of Soviet Russia as second-class citizens, despite the idea that all Soviet citizens were equal, and working towards a common goal. There is an emotion that these words hold, and this must not be forgotten, nor overlooked.
People say that translating literature is oftentimes exceedingly difficult, and sometimes entirely impossible. You can read Anna Karenina in English, but there is simply no substitute for reading Tolstoy through any other medium than Russian. Therefore, it is the duty of a translator to use the hundreds of thousands of words at his/her disposal to make the meaning, nuance, and cultural references as accessible as possible to readers, to give them the best means of connecting with the themes and feelings of the novel. This is the mission of Michele A. Berdy, author of The Russian Word’s Worth, whose lifelong mission has been to take such a notoriously difficult language, and make it understandable for the native English speaker. Her ability to convey meaning through words allows us to understand the Russian experience, the mentality of Russian speakers, and note the many similarities that we share, regardless of the so-called “language barrier.”
As an American, I understand why the words of Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, written some 240 years ago, evoke a certain emotion, how they stir the soul of every American patriot.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Would the importance of this message be as clear if it had stated that these truths are “clear” or “axiomatic,” or that these Rights belong to every man? No. These truths are self-evident. These rights are unalienable. The ability of Jefferson to tap into this deep sense of patriotism, to touch the hearts of his audience, remains the foundation of the United States as we know it today, and drives the tireless pursuit of these fundamental rights for American citizens.
What would you rather eat: a tasty Peking duck, or a succulent one? A good burger, or a juicy, mouth-watering one? A decent beer, or a flavorful, complex, and earthy stout? Words affect the choices that we make, the feelings that we have, and even our body’s response to certain things. I don’t know about you, but just typing out the words succulent and juicy brought forth a few, distinct cravings.
So, when we choose our words, we are really writing a concerto for all to hear. Where is the crescendo, and where are the words sustained, staccato, or legato? Which words hold the sharpness and intensity of the message that we want to express, and which words recall the sorrow and despair of moments in our history. In a sea of social media and global relations, the choice of our words becomes the song of our hearts, the anthems of our pride, and the celebration of our brotherhood. Now, more than ever, we must make glorious music with our words, and dance, sing, and rejoice in the beauty of our shared, human experience.
