dublinka

In the introduction to the selected poems of Philippe Jaccottet, his translator, the Irish poet Derek Mahon, informs us that Jaccottet's poem Patience, from the 1957 collection, L'ignorant, is one of his most admired. On reading it we can see why. It's a beautiful meditation on the themes of decay, and the end of life.

Dans la cartes à jouer abbatues sous la lampe
comme les papillons écroules poussiéreux
à travers les tapis des tables et la fumée

What a pity then, that when we turn to the English translation of the poem itself, we immediately see that the translation has been botched; it contains a number of dubious renderings: for example, does "non sans réprimer un tremblement" really equate with "quelling a calm"? Or pousser with slashing? And even allowing for interpretation, it's difficult to see how Mahon, a Trinity Scholar, can justify translating "Le vieil homme" as "Old men".

Unfortunately, the entire selection has been moth eaten by Mahon in this way. Not so much translation, or transformation, as mutation. In Dans l'éntendue for example, ramiers (woodpidgeons) inexplicably become doves. A nod to surrealism perhaps? Fine if you like it that way, I suppose, but Jaccottet's work contains some of the more interesting French poetry I've read in years, and it deserves better. When I'm less irritated, I'll return to Jaccottet again.

Philippe Jaccottet Selected poems, is available from Wake Forest University press. Buy it - only if you read French.