translation

the late polish poet zbigniew herbert has a poem included in an early edition of his selected poems [i don't own a copy but have read the book in both the university library and the downtown central library ] titled 'on translation' which likens the art of translation to a bee that is covered in pollen.

if someone asks me of my literary forebears, my influences, i'd have to go with foreign poetry in translation.  i've even likened myself [silly, yes, but bear with me] an eastern european poet for i'd read so much eastern european poetry in translation beginning with my first picking up a pen and writing my first line that the influence of writers like herbert can not not be given their due.

besides, i'm hopelessly a monoglot.  translations of foreign poetry had opened up many many doors to my perceptions.  i've always thought of myself -- even when i was a wee lad -- as a citizen of the world.  translations had given my citizenry in world poetry a valid passport.

later my love of the world included the classical chinese poets [who in turn became great teachers to me] and writers like tomas transtromer and jaan kaplinski and cesar vallejo and nicanor parra and on and on and on.

lately, the great german buddhist poet stefan hyner -- who writes quite a lot of his work in inglesh -- has become a kind of virgil to my own homely dante.  should i be so bold. 

i should.  so should you.  for poets are all brothers and sisters of the Word.