As he translated the songs, I saw how it changed the form, may be retaining the tonality. I saw how it changed the texture, but not the feel, changing the content, but may be not the meaning.
What’s there to lose in translations? – the dimensions, the shape, the weight, the motive, the emotion, the essence? Does it change its space, its character, its generation? Could there be a perfect translation?
I noticed the changes, but the subject stayed. Even noticed the subject changing, but then the composition stayed. Observed the loss, the straying form of the fallen tree translated into a home, a lost knife into a traveller’s discovery.
I don’t know how much is there to lose in the process, if it all comes from here and goes back in here. May be we don’t lose the song. And may be everything stays, we just lose the meaning. Or maybe it’s just up to a translator.
These are the series of translations during the trip to the islands, from trivial to significant.
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