Two books caught my attention while going through the new arrivals section in a bookstore. Both are books of poems, one thick and the other slim. The former, the collected poems of Sitok Srengenge, translated by Nukila Amal and Hasif Amini, and the latter a slim first book of poems by Laksmi Pamuntjak, better known as the writer of The Jakarta's Good Food Guide.

I was intrigued to read Sitok's poems because I wanted to find out how his alliterative and sometimes wildly allusive poems would fare being translated into English. As for Laksmi Pamuntjak's first literary output, now who wouldn't be curious about what this fine lady could be up to next? We have seen her transform herself time and again, from being a dexterous pianist, bookseller, culinary expert and now a poet.

On Nothing is a compilation of Sitok's four books of poetry, comprising of Ambrosia, Nonsens, Bastard and Wild Coupling. In the concluding passage of her preface, Nukila Amal sums up the futility of attempting to translate a writer's work into another language, since the author himself has "failed" in his own attempt at writing an experience. "As he (Sitok) has shown, and hopefully would readily admit, much is already lost in the first place, since it was already an impossible translation; he already "failed" in his own translation." Now, that doesn't seem like an ominous beginning for a book that took I'm sure a lot of effort and time? But that is to be understood, I suppose, knowing how difficult it would be to translate Sitok's poems into English.

Sitok Srengenge is what you would describe as a symbolic poet. Very rarely his poems are written in straight verse. The stanzas are brimming with alliterative lines and sprinkled with allusions that zap you into another reality in a split second. See for yourself in this stanza of rhyming couplets taken from Dance of Eucalyptus.

Di seluruh ngarai tergerai rambut kabutmu
mengaburkan derai-derai derita di pungguku
pelukan dan ciuman, badai yang datang beruntun,
sayap-sayap mimpiku kuyup terbantun
ke ceruk pinggang cadasmu yang terjal berlumut
menjelma gaung di pokok-pokok rambut

You will have noticed by now Sitok's heavy use of successive alliterations in a single line. Read then the rendition of the same stanza, you'll discover that only the meaning of the stanza could be properly transmuted. The rest the music and the beauty of the original stanza in terms of word choices are all lost. Read the following translation and pay attention of the underlined. There is a sense that the translator tried to translate each line in an almost word-for-word order, as it was originally written.

Throughout the gorge spread your misty hair
blurring the patter of suffering on my back
embraces and kisses, the storm that strikes in a row
the wings of my dream drench and fall
into the chasm of your steep mossy groins
turning into an echo at the hair stems

Translated in this way, we've lost not only, as the poet himself has predicted, the poet's original poetic touch, but whatever beauty that is inspired by the original poem into the translation. To illustrate my point, I'd attempt to translate what I would think a different version of Sitok's stanza, nonetheless one that evokes at least something of the original music.

In the narrow of the valley your hair misty disarrayed
distorting beatings of pain on my back
hugs and kisses, storms that never end
my dream drenched wings that are plucked
into the curve of your waist steep and mossy stone
an echo transformed in the stems of your hair

While I can't vouch for the 'correctness' of my translation, I have at least shown that there could be a better way translating a poem: i.e. it's not from nothing to nothing, as the preface seems to suggest what a translation is basically, but from essence to echoing essence with a bit of a poetic flair.
In a much straightforward poem Osmosis of Origin, the translation seems so much more plausible, thus conveying a bit more of the original along with it.
But even here, the language used can be atrociously literal.

Aku bertanya kepada angin
Dari mana asalnya angan
Angin menggoyangkan pucuk-pucuk daun
Dan kusaksikan pohon-pohon melukis lingkaran tahun

This is translated as:

I ask the wind
whence does reverie come
the wind shakes the tips of leaves
and I see the trees paint the cycle of years

None

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