{"title":"Jonathan Dunne","description":null,"products":[{"product_id":"modern-poetry-in-translation-series-3-no8-getting-it-across","title":"Modern Poetry in Translation (Series 3 No.8) Getting it Across","description":"\u003ci\u003eGetting it Across\u003c\/i\u003e has to do with translation in a very fundamental sense: getting yourself across.  It features translations, original poems, essays and anecdotes that treat the many ways in which people communicate with one another.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ca name=\"contents\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003eCover by Lucy Wilkinson.  Editorial by David and Helen Constantine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eContents:\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tBernardo Atxaga, two poems, translated by Margaret Jull Costa\u003cbr\u003e•\tGabriela Mistral, ‘The Foreigner’, translated by Arthur McHugh\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e0\"\u003eNiyati Keni, Poetry in Four Dimensions\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tHelen and David Constantine, A Language without Words\u003cbr\u003e•\tAlyss Dye, ‘Word Blindness’\u003cbr\u003e•\tMoniza Alvi, ‘Writing at the Centre’\u003cbr\u003e•\tSaradha Soobrayen, One Foot in England and one Foot in Mauritius\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e1\"\u003eOliver Reynolds, ‘Slip’\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tPascale Petit, ‘I was born in the Larzac’\u003cbr\u003e•\tAnnemarie Austin, ‘Dysphasias’\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e2\"\u003eGregory Warren Wilson, three poems\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tPedro Serrano, four poems from ‘Still Life’, translated by Anna Crowe\u003cbr\u003e•\tStephanie Norgate, two haiku versions of Lucretius\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e3\"\u003eRobin Fulton, four poems\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tMartha Kapos, two poems\u003cbr\u003e•\tCarole Satyamurti, three poems\u003cbr\u003e•\tHarry Martinson, five poems, translated by Robin Fulton\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tJenny Joseph, An essay and five poems, after paintings by Jaume Prohens\u003cbr\u003e•\tMartti Hynynen, five poems, translated by Mike Horwood\u003cbr\u003e•\tLucy Hamilton, extracts from a sonnet version of Lalla Maghnia\u003cbr\u003e•\tTsvetanka Elenkova, six poems, translated by Jonathan Dunne\u003cbr\u003e•\tTugrul Tanyol, four poems, translated by Ruth Christie\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e4\"\u003eJane Draycott, a translation of the first two sections of Pearl\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tNaomi Jaffa, The Aldeburgh Poetry Festival\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003ePoetry from Aldeburgh\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•               Taha Muhammad Ali, three poems, translated by Peter Cole, Yahya Hijazi and Gabriel Levin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tMichael Hamburger, four poems\u003cbr\u003e•\tRobert Walser, twelve poems, translated by Michael Hamburger\u003cbr\u003e•\tTwo Memorial Notes on Michael Hamburger\u003cbr\u003e•\tBy Anthony Rudolf\u003cbr\u003e•\tBy Iain Galbraith\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eReviews\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tCharlie Louth on Don Paterson, Martyn Crucefix and Rilke\u003cbr\u003e•\tBelinda Cooke on The Translator as Writer (edited Susan Bassnett and Peter Bush)\u003cbr\u003e•\tJo Balmer, Shorter Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e0\" title=\"e0\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eNiyati Keni\u003cbr\u003ePoetry in Four dimensions\u003c\/strong\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eIntroduction\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the UK, the first records of deaf people using manual signs to communicate date back to the sixteenth century. However, as signers were often geographically scattered, it wasn’t until the nineteenth century, when residential missions for the deaf brought them together in significant numbers, that a national Sign Language began to emerge. In 1880, an international conference of teachers of deaf children met in Milan and voted to ban the teaching of Sign throughout most of Europe as they believed it to be detrimental to the acquisition of spoken and written language in deaf children. The ‘oral’ method of teaching all children, deaf and hearing, remained the standard for almost a century until the late 1970s when it was finally acknowledged that this method was failing large numbers of deaf children who were leaving school with low levels of literacy. \u003cbr\u003eIn the latter half of the twentieth century extensive linguistic analysis was conducted on Sign Language (largely with American Sign Language), heralding a change in perception of Sign from a simple gestural code to a rich and expressive language. This, coupled with the general movement for ‘disability’ rights, has led to a shift in consciousness within both deaf and hearing society which has had two important results. Firstly, in the UK, British Sign Language (BSL) was finally recognised as an official national language in March 2003. Secondly, there has been an explosive evolution in Sign arts since the 1960s – notably in areas that have traditionally been considered ‘text based’, such as theatre and poetry.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn order to understand the impact of Sign on such media, it is necessary to examine the characteristics of the language more closely. \u003cbr\u003eSign languages are unique, in that they are visuo-spatial rather than verbal\/auditory.  In the UK, Sign is often thought of as simple, pictorial language that is a transliteration of spoken English. In fact Sign is an evolved language not a devised one, with its own very different syntax and grammar. It shows regional variation in the same way that spoken languages do and is rich in visual metaphor, (e.g. ‘ravenously hungry’ is signed as little fish swimming in the belly).\u003cbr\u003eBSL has a much smaller lexicon than spoken English but achieves greater expressivity by modifying individual signs. Though the basis of a given sign is the handshape, the meaning can be altered by the speed, style, location, direction and repetition of the movement as well as by non-manual aspects such as eye gaze, facial expression, mouth shape etc. This mimetic quality of Sign is easily demonstrated. For example, the same verb can be performed lazily, angrily, jauntily, so that a person can amble, stalk or strut where the basic sign is ‘walk’. Nouns can be similarly modified –  ‘tree’ is formed by one forearm standing upright, resting on top of and perpendicular to the other forearm, where the fingers are the tree branches. When the upright forearm sways or the fingers wriggle, the tree is depicted in stormy weather. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e1\" title=\"e1\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOliver Reynolds\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\t\t\t       \u003cbr\u003e                                  \u003cem\u003eSlip\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn writing the word Fräulein\u003cbr\u003einstead of putting the umlaut\u003cbr\u003eabove the a\u003cbr\u003ehe had put it above the u\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe more she looked\u003cbr\u003eat that double-stroke\u003cbr\u003eabove the open letter\u003cbr\u003ethe more Freudian it grew\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e2\" title=\"e2\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eGregory Warren Wilson\u003cbr\u003eThree Poems\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cem\u003eThe Opacity of Strangeness\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAs soon as the April hailstorm ended\u003cbr\u003emy new Somali neighbour\u003cbr\u003ecrunched to the middle of his lawn\u003cbr\u003egathered up a handful of granules\u003cbr\u003eand took them back indoors\u003cbr\u003e. . . to pierce with a hot needle\u003cbr\u003eand thread on fuse wire like seed pearls.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWe only ever meet in passing,\u003cbr\u003echoosing limes in the corner shop,\u003cbr\u003epicking over the star anise, deferential\u003cbr\u003eas students at an evening class\u003cbr\u003epractising idioms, turns of phrase\u003cbr\u003e. . . hailstones in the ice-cube tray,\u003cbr\u003ematching pairs like moonstone earrings.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eToday, clipping the privet hedge,\u003cbr\u003eI felt his gaze on the nape on my neck,\u003cbr\u003ethat subtle sense the hairline has\u003cbr\u003e. . . how would topiary translate?\u003cbr\u003ebut the moment I turned he dissolved\u003cbr\u003elike sugar into milk, like shadow into dusk.\u003cbr\u003eWhenever he smiles something escapes me. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e3\" title=\"e3\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eRobin Fulton\u003cbr\u003eFour poems\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eWood Anemones\u003c\/em\u003e                \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDays lengthen, spaces between trees\u003cbr\u003eare wide, long before being filled in.\u003cbr\u003eAs if to tremble is to live\u003cbr\u003ewindflower petals tremble, half in\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ehalf out of last year's grass tangles.\u003cbr\u003eYou'd think they'd arrived from far off\u003cbr\u003ebefore place has been made for them.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThey are small voices, are so small\u003cbr\u003ethey know they have nothing to say,\u003cbr\u003eare wise enough not to say it.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eEach is too white to make much mark\u003cbr\u003eon the spreading landscape, too cool\u003cbr\u003eto give way as far as pastel.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThat's the one place in the landscape\u003cbr\u003ewhere rhetoric is quite absent,\u003cbr\u003ewhere the landscape if it had things \u003cbr\u003eto say could find ways of saying them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eWords like trout\u003c\/em\u003e                      \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ein glassy pool, abruptly\u003cbr\u003enot-there as I stare at their backs.\u003cbr\u003eI don't own words but I lose them.\u003cbr\u003eWords don't own me but they lose me.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e‘Arbitrary’ is a migrant,\u003cbr\u003eerratic, follows no seasons,\u003cbr\u003emost of the time hides somewhere else.\u003cbr\u003e‘Nutmeg’ is wary and jealous.\u003cbr\u003eIf ‘Muskat’ comes near me, ‘nutmeg’\u003cbr\u003egets lost in the air for ages.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThey have their habits, belong\u003cbr\u003e(wouldn't they say?) to the Fifth Day,\u003cbr\u003ewill inherit the earth when we\u003cbr\u003estep off, not one word in our mouths.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e","brand":"Modern Poetry in Translation","offers":[{"title":"Book","offer_id":1040750524,"sku":"9780954536787","price":9.95,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0441\/7369\/products\/2_2_e79db839-f4fd-4fd6-ac0a-96f556e05271.jpeg?v=1752237543"},{"product_id":"modern-poetry-in-translation-series-3-no7-love-and-war","title":"Modern Poetry in Translation (Series 3 No.7) Love and War","description":"\u003cem\u003eLove and War\u003c\/em\u003e contains translations and original poems on this modern and ancient topic. This volume demonstrates the wealth and variety of interpretations of the theme.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ca name=\"contents\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003eCover by Lucy Wilkinson.  Editorial by David and Helen Constantine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eContents:\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tAdonis, nine poems, translated by Peter Clark and Sarah Maguire\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tJeff Nosbaum, ‘Pride of Ajax’\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tYannis Ritsos, twenty-eight of the Monochords, translated by Paul Merchant\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e0\"\u003eGuillaume Apollinaire, seven poems, translated by Stephen Romer\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tPushkin, The Captain’s Daughter, extracts translated by Robert Chandler\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tVénus Khoury-Ghata, six poems from Interments, translated by Marilyn Hacker\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tGilgamesh, an extract translated by Paul Batchelor\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tFederico Garcia Lorca , ‘Song of the Civil Guard’, translated by Mark Leech\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e1\"\u003eOliver Reynolds, ‘Kolin’ and ‘Dusty Miller Breaks his Silence’(after Liliencron’s ‘Wer weiss wo’ and ‘Vergiss die Mühle nicht’)\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tStephen Romer, four poems\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e2\"\u003eDu Fu, two poems, translated by Paul Harris\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tCharles Dobzynski, ‘My Life as a Wall’, translated by Marilyn Hacker\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tLucretius, ‘Aulis’, translated by Stephanie Norgate\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e3\"\u003eRobert Desnos, ten poems, translated by Timothy Adès\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tAnzhelina Polonskaya, four poems, translated by Andrew Wachtel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\t\u003ca href=\"#e4\"\u003eManuel Rivas, six poems, translated by Jonathan Dunne\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tGiuseppe Belli, four sonnets, translated by Mike Stocks\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tElsa Morante, Farewell, an extract translated by Cristina Viti\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tAndrea Zanzotto, four poems, translated by Jo Catling and others\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tElena Shvarts, nine poems, translated by Sasha Dugdale\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eReviews and Comments\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tMichael Hamburger on Assia Wevill\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tRobin Fulton on Robin Robertson’s Tranströmer\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tSasha Dugdale on Emily Lygo’s Voltskaia\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tCharlie Louth on Eavan Boland and the Bachmann-Henze correspondence\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tBelinda Cooke on translations of Vittorio Sereni and Luciano Erba\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e•\tJosephine Balmer, Shorter Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e0\" title=\"e0\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eGuillaume Apollinaire, seven poems, translated by Stephen Romer\u003c\/strong\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                         \u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eXxxii (extracts)  My Lou I shall sleep tonight…\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy Lou I shall sleep tonight in the trenches\u003cbr\u003eFreshly dug and waiting near our guns\u003cbr\u003eSome twelve kilometers away are the holes\u003cbr\u003eWhere I shall go down in my coat of horizon-blue\u003cbr\u003eBetween the whizzbangs and the casseroles\u003cbr\u003eTo take my place among our soldier-troglodytes\u003cbr\u003eThe train stopped at Mourmelon le Petit\u003cbr\u003eAnd I stepped down as happy as I climbed up\u003cbr\u003eSoon we shall leave for the battery but for now\u003cbr\u003eI’m among the soldiery and shells are whistling\u003cbr\u003eIn the grey north sky and no one thinks of dying…\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e……………………………\t\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd thus we shall live on the frontline\u003cbr\u003eAnd I shall liken your arms to the necks of swans\u003cbr\u003eAnd sing your breasts belonging to a goddess\u003cbr\u003eAnd the lilac shall blossom… I shall sing your eyes\u003cbr\u003eWhere a choir of lissom cherubs is dancing\u003cbr\u003eThe lilac shall blossom in the serious spring!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e1\" title=\"e1\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOliver Reynolds, ‘Kolin’ and ‘Dusty Miller Breaks his Silence’(after Liliencron’s ‘Wer weiss wo’ and ‘Vergiss die Mühle nicht’)\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e               \u003cem\u003eKolin!\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\t (18.vi.1757)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoldiers drown in their blood.\u003cbr\u003eWheeling smoke, hoof-churned mud\u003cbr\u003e\t and the sheen\u003cbr\u003eof a thousand spurs catches the sun.\u003cbr\u003eNo one’s springing to attention\u003cbr\u003e\t at Kolin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All the generals and squaddies\u003cbr\u003e who necked bullets like toddies\u003cbr\u003e\t now stand easy.\u003cbr\u003e Death having meant no harm\u003cbr\u003e by his jogging each arm\u003cbr\u003e\t now stands easy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e An oblong bump in the shirt\u003cbr\u003e of a corpse feeding on dirt\u003cbr\u003e\t looks like a book.\u003cbr\u003e An adjutant stooped as he grieved\u003cbr\u003e undid the pocket and retrieved\u003cbr\u003e           the Gospel of Luke.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReturned with Prussian palaver\u003cbr\u003eto the high-ranking father\u003cbr\u003e\t fixed in his chair\u003cbr\u003eit now bears a spidery inscription.\u003cbr\u003eKolin. My son lost in action.\u003cbr\u003e\tWho knows where.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd you who now read that line\u003cbr\u003eare one with its writer: both decline\u003cbr\u003e           to see what’s there.\u003cbr\u003eFor each of us will be posted in turn\u003cbr\u003elost in action, to freeze or burn\u003cbr\u003e           who knows where.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e2\" title=\"e2\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eDu Fu, two poems, translated by Paul Harris\u003c\/strong\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eA Scene in Spring\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe state is torn apart, only the mountains and rivers remain.\u003cbr\u003eWeeds and trees run rampant in the city this spring.\u003cbr\u003eDo the flowers sense the times, that they, like me, should weep?\u003cbr\u003eDo the birds feel the emptiness, they seem so fearful?\u003cbr\u003eFor three months on end the garrison beacons have glimmered at night.\u003cbr\u003eA letter from home would be worth a heap of gold to me,\u003cbr\u003eAn old man waiting, whose remaining white hairs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e3\" title=\"e3\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eRobert Desnos, ten poems, translated by Timothy Adès\u003c\/strong\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eSong of the Glass of Wine\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the train goes don’t wave your hand,\u003cbr\u003eYour handkerchief, your umbrella,\u003cbr\u003eBut fill a glass with wine,\u003cbr\u003eAnd throw, towards the train whose grab-rails are singing,\u003cbr\u003eThe wine’s long flame,\u003cbr\u003eThe wine’s bloody flame that is like your tongue,\u003cbr\u003eAnd shares with it\u003cbr\u003eThe palate and the couch\u003cbr\u003eOf your lips and your mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003chr size=\"1\"\u003e\u003ca name=\"e4\" title=\"e4\"\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eManuel Rivas, six poems, translated by Jonathan Dunne\u003c\/strong\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003eBallad on the Western Beaches\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ship settles on the shore\u003cbr\u003eand land birds nest on its mast.\u003cbr\u003eWith the compass I trace routes on maps of tillage,\u003cbr\u003ehurt by the sky’s anger on the seed’s weak ribs,\u003cbr\u003efearful of the flower’s drift before inhumane winds.\u003cbr\u003eThe ship sleeps on the shore,\u003cbr\u003ethe keel’s blue imagination covered in brush and rushes,\u003cbr\u003eand the figurehead has a strolling soul.\u003cbr\u003eIn the binnacle is kept the book of moons and the rains’ needle,\u003cbr\u003ea bottle of old snow liqueur.\u003cbr\u003eA skylark sings on a rusty harpoon,\u003cbr\u003ea blackbird’s sigh lashes the cables\u003cbr\u003eand crows on the rudder glimpse lesser death lying alongside.\u003cbr\u003eAll set, admiral, for the great journey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e","brand":"Modern Poetry in Translation","offers":[{"title":"Book","offer_id":1040751556,"sku":"9780954536770","price":9.95,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0441\/7369\/products\/2_2_29d55b0a-dc86-4821-800d-d6dad869e2c0.jpeg?v=1752237541"}],"url":"https:\/\/inpressbooks.co.uk\/collections\/jonathan-dunne\/pascale-petit.oembed","provider":"Inpress Books","version":"1.0","type":"link"}