A review by spacestationtrustfund
The Collected Poems of C. P. Cavafy: A New Translation by Willis Barnstone, Aliki Barnstone, Constantinos P. Cavafy

3.0

This review is of the translation by Aliki Barnstone.

My favourite translation of Cavafy's poems is Dr. Rae Dalven's, but much of my apprehension going into Aliki Barnstone's translations was misjudged. I wasn't impressed with Willis Barnstone's Sappho translations, but Ancient and Modern Greek are entirely different skillsets (I studied Ancient Greek for years and still can hardly speak a word of Modern Greek); thankfully, Willis Barnstone takes a backseat in this particular translation, primarily contributing to the introduction and scholarly endnotes. As for Aliki Barnstone's translations of the poems, they were good, but still not enough to eclipse Dr. Dalven's own. I do wonder if this has something to do with the fact that Dr. Dalven herself was a professional Greek translator and was Greek, while Barnstone—although an accomplished poet in her own right—is a professor of English and creative writing.

For the purposes of comparison, here is Barnstone's translation of one of my favourite of Cavafy's poems:
DESIRES
Like beautiful bodies of the dead that haven't aged
and were locked in a mausoleum with tears,
with roses at their heads and jasmine at their feet,
that is what desires look like when they pass
without having fulfilled, without even
a single night of passion, or a shining morning.
And the original Greek:
ΕΠΙΘΥΜΊΕΣ
Σαν σώματα ωραία νεκρών που δεν εγέρασαν
και τάκλεισαν, με δάκρυα, σε μαυσωλείο λαμπρό,
με ρόδα στο κεφάλι και στα πόδια γιασεμιά—
έτσ' η επιθυμίες μοιάζουν που επέρασαν
χωρίς να εκπληρωθούν· χωρίς ν' αξιωθεί καμιά
της ηδονής μια νύχτα, ή ένα πρωϊ της φεγγερό.
Dr. Dalven's translation of the same is quite similar, with only a few syntactical changes:
Like beautiful bodies of the dead who had not grown old
and they shut them, with tears, in a magnificent mausoleum,
with roses at the head and jasmine at the feet—
that is how desires look that have passed
without fulfillment; without one of them having achieved
a night of sensual delight, or a moonlit morn.
The word φεγγερό is moonlight or moonlit, from φεγγάρι (moon); Barnstone's translation takes a less literal approach in favour of the (presumably) metaphorical implications. Similarly, Barnstone entirely omits the word λαμπρό (bright, brilliant), from λάμπω (to shine), while Dr. Dalven translates it as glorious; the (presumably) white marble of the mausoleum reflecting the light is a parallel to the later shine of moonlight. These differences are subtle, but they add up: much of the nuance of the original is lost in Barnstone's translations—setting aside the nuance lost in any form of translation—and retained in Dr. Dalven's.