Although labeled in the online index as “ A
poem by Simon Armitage” the poem Deor is actually a reasonably faithful
translation of the OE Deor from The Exeter Book. This is explained in a note in the side bar on the page the poem appears in the online edition. In the print edition I see no such information. I’m not suggesting anything underhand is happening. I’m just wondering if this is a claim
that the poet who translates, remakes and therefore owns the new text or do we
assume that all readers of the LRB know Deor is Old English?
I could get to like the way Armitage has broken the alliterative
pattern of the original and alliterates each line of the first verse on the
last word, which the original doesn’t.
I’m not sure I like “a hurt like winter” which sounds too vague, and
I don’t understand “my name was Deor "(even if it's faithful to the original) or “and [she] imagined misfortunes” but all this is irrelevant. It’s an awkward gnarled poem to translate and I couldn’t produce a
translation which read this fluently. The people who can tell you how accurate it is are the very people who
don’t need it, so the question is
who does? Who is the intended audience?
Which means I’m most intrigued by the fact
that it’s been published in what seems to be such a prestigious market. It’s a neat translation of an obscure poem, famous for its refrain (which here
sounds unnecessarily clunky) and its allusiveness, but which doesn't seem to offer a modern reader much if anything.
So has it been published because it’s written by Simon Armitage and to advertise his new book? There are numerous translations currently available. Does this version offer new insight into the poem or a new
way of reading the original? Does it suggest the writer went “digging for the
treasure” in Pound’s version of translation and recast the original in a way
that’s alive as a poem for a modern reader?
I’d answer no to both those last two questions and
the reason for the negative is simple. Deor is famously allusive. It is assumed, these days, that the original
audience must have known the stories of Weland, Beodohilde et al. (It wasn’t Weland’s hopes which were hamstrung (as the Armitage version states): he was. Weland then took his revenge by
killing Niðhad’s sons and raping his daughter, Beodohilde, who was driven out her
wits by her pregnancy. Or at least that’s the familiar notes attempting to
explain the poem).
“We have heard” the poet repeats working
variations on the phrase, but “we” reading in the twenty first century, are not
the “we” who heard or knew. Stripped of
original context or contextualizing notes, the poem on its own makes no sense beyond a vague suggestion
that because a list of (unknown) people survived (equally unknown) bad things in
a vague past the (unknown) poet’s (stated) bad times may also pass.
Look at me says the poem in the LRB: I’m a
translation! I’m the ghost of Anglo-Saxon Poetry talking a walk on part in a
museum. I’m the painfully obvious
replica they send out when the original is too valuable to move. I’m
quaint, I’m awkward. You won’t
understand me, but don’t
worry. I look old and different
and that’s enough. Look at the me, the ghost of “Anglo-Saxon Poetry” with its non Anglo-Saxon
alliteration. Look at my
typography. How quaint. How obviously Old.
But since
we all know this Anglo-Saxon layout is a modern editorial convention, with its half lines and breaks, why
not ditch it?
I feel like I’m being asked to admire the
combination of the badly faked replica of a museum piece and a fine musician
demonstrating her ability to play scales.
Neither of which is something I’d willingly
part with money to see.
Or is it indicative of the fact that many readers don't expect a 'poem' to make sense anymore?
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