WORLD POETRY: AN ANTHOLOGY OF VERSE FROM ANTIQUITY TO OUR TIME
Edited by Katharine Washburn, John S. Major, and
W. W. Norton
1338 pp., $45
In her introduction to "World Poetry: an Anthology of Verse From
Antiquity to Our Time," Katharine Washburn quotes Robert Frost's
aphorism, "Poetry is what gets lost in translation."
Since more than 80 percent of the poems in this mammoth volume
have been translated from their original languages into English,
Washburn was clearly delighted to find a rebuttal to Frost in Octavio
Paz's remark, "Poetry is what gets translated."
Washburn and her co-editor John Major believe we are, in fact,
living in a golden age of translation. Washburn and Major are
themselves translators; she from classical and European languages, he
I suspect Frost may be right about the impossibility of
replicating all of the densely interrelated aspects of any poem into
another language, no matter how skillful and sensitive the
But how many English-speaking readers can claim a working
knowledge of Arabic and Incan, Chinese and Hebrew, Polish and Yoruba,
Inuit and Sanskrit?
And would it not be a pity if we were to have no inkling of the
splendors created by the poets who wrote in languages other than our
"World Poetry" presents poetry from a breathtaking spectrum of
times and places. It is arranged chronologically in eight sections,
from the Bronze and Iron Ages to the 20th century, with each time
period subdivided by region and language.
The poems exhibit an astonishing array of qualities from mystery,
grandeur, and sublimity to pathos, passion, and irony, to humor,
earthiness, and ingenuity. The one quality they have in common is
bite. There is scarcely a dull poem in the collection.
Beginning with the Bronze and Iron Ages, we find strange and
haunting fragments of ancient cultures - Babylonian, Egyptian,
Indian, Chinese - including some as far back as the 3rd millennium
From a text found on the pyramids of ancient Egypt (c. 2180 BC),
these darkly beautiful lines speak of a civilization that venerated
The sky is a dark bowl, the stars die and fall.
The celestial bows quiver,
the bones of the earthgods shake and planets come to a halt
when they sight the king in all his power,
the god who feeds on his father and eats his mother.
From the age of the classical empires, 750 BC - AD 500, come
verses by Aeschylus, Sophocles, Virgil, Horace, Catullus, Ovid, as
well as poets of ancient India and China. Some translations of these
classic poems are themselves famous, like Samuel Johnson's imitation
of Juvenal, "The Vanity of Human Wishes."
We are offered three modern translations of a lyric by Sappho,
including this one by Sam Hamill:
The Pleiades disappear,
the pale moon goes down.
After midnight, time blurs:
sleepless, I lie alone.
These wise words about art and artists come from an anonymous
15th-century Mesoamerican poet:
The true artist: capable, practicing, skillful;
maintains dialogue with his heart, meets things with
works ... dexterously, invents;
arranges materials, adorns them, makes them adjust.
The carrion artist: works at random, sneers at the people,
makes things opaque, brushes across the surface of the face of
works without care, defrauds people, is a thief.
Half a century later, Chilam Balam, a Mayan poet, utters these
tragically prophetic lines, reminding us of the destruction of a
culture and way of life that prevailed in Central and South America:
They came with a fury
with a rage without reason
with a thirst for blood,
for heads, for jewels. …