Onegin

Alexander Pushkin
(Francis Boutle Publishers, 2011)
There exists, to my knowledge, one sparkling translation of Onegin, by a former diplomat, Charles Johnston (Scolar Press, 1977, later re-issued by Penguin). Johnston achieved what had seemed impossible, in sticking scrupulously to the metre and rhyme, while also giving us the sense, without 'padding'; and he infused it with his own man-of-affairs wit and panache so close to Pushkin's. Johnston's success is as formidable a discouragement to later translators as are the inherent difficulties.

I decided nevertheless to try my hand at Onegin, for two reasons. First, I simply wanted to spend a few months with a poet I love, to revisit him, and there is no more intimate and rewarding way of doing this than the act of translation. The second reason has to do with the nature of the Russian and English languages. As feminine rhymes are much more readily available in Russian, the 'same' stanza form in English sounds different, heavier, more deliberately willed, than the Russian. There are bound to be times, however skilled the translator, when finding perfect rhymes is going to distract from what Pushkin is saying, and not fully reflect the original's emotional tone. I wanted to try a different approach: to tone down the rhymes, free them up somewhat, by using a lot of half-rhymes, assonance and enjambement. If there was a conflict between being faithful to the letter, and faithful to the spirit, I have preferred the latter.

A poem is embedded in its language, an inseparable blend of sound and sense, creating a harmonious whole like an Old Masters painting or a great symphonic piece. The huge onomatopoeic energy of Russian, in the hands of its greatest master, is especially untranslatable. But other important qualities can be carried over from one language to another. Pushkin himself had a poor grasp of English; he read Shakespeare and Byron in rather bad French prose translations, yet he felt something of both, and was greatly influenced by them. Translations, he said, 'are the post-horses of enlightenment'.

I don't know if this translation is a speedy post-horse or one of the nags that pulled Madame Larina and Tatiana to Moscow, extremely slowly. I do know that I have had great joy living with Pushkin again for several months.