"Larsen’s collection does not provide the Chinese as companion for her translations. Some of her translations carry that awkwardness that comes from searching for the English equivalent of what is a traditional Chinese mode of expression. At those moments I’d like to have had the characters available to me so I might decide for myself if her effort was an attempt to be literal, to be modern or otherwise."
As I understand this, what David wants is to have the original Chinese poems so that he can think critically about moments in Larsen’s book where he felt not so much that the translations were unsuccessful—he does not use that word and so I don’t want to put it in his mouth—but rather where the translator’s hand was made visible by her inability to channel seamlessly into English a “traditional Chinese mode of expression.” It sounds almost like there were some poems in which he felt he was looking at a knitted garment that someone was wearing inside out so that all the stitching was visible and what he wanted was to be able to examine the pattern from which the garment was produced so he could determine what the other side looked like, or, rather, what it was supposed to look like, or could look like, depending on how that original pattern was read. This is not, I know a seamless metaphor—pardon the pun—since you could always ask the person wearing the sweater to take it off and turn it right side out, something that does not quite have a parallel when talking about literary translation, but it allows me to talk about my reading of Clinton’s translation in a way that gets at the question of formal choices in translation from a slightly different angle.
Because David can read Chinese, he can in some sense ask the translator to turn the sweater right side out by asking to see the original poem. Or maybe it’s more accurate to see the original poem as the pattern from which the translator knits the translation. I’m not sure—though I will say that trying to come up with metaphors that capture something of the essence of what literary translators and their translations do has become something of a hobby of mine—but what I am sure of is that, because I do not read Persian, even if Mage Publishers had put the original side-by-side with Jerome Clinton’s translation, I could not have made the comparison between Clinton’s translation and the original that David says he would like to have been able to make between Larsen’s work and the original Chinese.
Yet this is a comparison I would dearly love to make because my reason for reading In The Dragon’s Claws is that I am preparing to make my own translation of parts of the Shahnameh. So, being able to think critically, in the way that David is talking about, about the choices other translators have made would be a big help. Here, for example, is a passage from Clinton’s version of the prologue:
The garden’s filled with roses; hyacinths
And tulips cover all the mountain slopes.
The nightingale laments throughout the glade
While the rosebud preens herself at his distress.
Since clouds are sending down their wind and rain,
I wonder why narcissus is so sad?
The nightingale wakes through the darkest night.
He laughs at wind and rain that set the rose
To trembling in fear. Snug in his perch
Within the rose, he sings his song. Meanwhile
The cloud roars like a lion, as though he were
The lover, not the rose. Winds tear his robe
To shreds. Fires flash within the thunderhead,
Fierce proofs of heaven’s passion for the earth—
a love it offers here before the sun. (29-30)
I admire Clinton’s ability to stick with the blank verse he has chosen as his form—and there are a great many passages in the book that are wonderfully rendered—but I feel an awkwardness here, one that repeats itself throughout the book, an artificial quality in the language and a way in which the form and the content end up working against each other. In the following lines, for example, ending the second line on the verb “were” takes the emphasis off the word “he,” where it seems to me it belongs:
…Meanwhile
The cloud roars like a lion, as though he were
The lover, not the rose.
There are moments like this throughout the book, but while they do not happen so frequently as to detract from the power of the story being told, they happen often enough to make me wonder about the relationship between Clinton’s formal choices and the form of the original.
I decided that I will not be translating the Shahnameh into blank verse before I read Clinton’s book. I have lived with blank verse now for two years in my translations of Saadi, and it is a form, frankly, that I am tired of, but reading In The Dragon’s Claws convinced me I’d made the right decision. Instead, when I begin my work on the Shahnameh, I will be working in Anglo-Saxon verse, a form that has its own relationship to epic narrative (think Beowulf) and that I want to explore with the Shahnameh because it feels to me like Anglo-Saxon verse will help me avoid what I felt was the way that Clinton’s adherence both to a very strict blank verse line and a very simple and straightforward language sanitized the story of Rostam and Esfandiyar, robbing the conflict between these two men of much of its drama. Over the long haul of more than a hundred pages, in other words, at least to my ear, Clinton’s verse clicks through its iambic pentameter too mechanically to carry the full emotional resonance of the narrative. As well, the iambic pentameter itself feels in places more like a schema over which the language of the translation has been laid, rather than a form that grew organically out of the translator’s relationship to the poem.
You’re probably wondering what all this has to do with empire, President Bush and the war in Iraq, and I will be getting there soon, I promise, but I want to make sure to say, first, that nothing I have said till now should take away from Jerome Clinton’s accomplishment, which has been to render one of the more important stories from the Shahnameh into accessible, enjoyable and at times truly moving English, and if you are interested in Persian literature, or in epic literature in general, In The Dragon’s Claws is a great place to start. The second thing I want to say is actually two things—and this will get us to contemporary politics—and they are my reasons for choosing Anglo-Saxon verse as the form in which I will work on the Shahnameh in English.
To begin with, Anglo-Saxon and Persian poetry are both written in hemistiches, and while I will not be so arrogant as to suggest that I will be able to make, or even be trying to make, the hemistiches in English correspond to those in the original, this formal correspondence gives me a kind of infrastructure on which to build out the rest of my thinking in terms of the formal choices I will make. Second, and in many ways more importantly, the warrior-talk that fills In The Dragon’s Claws reminds me a whole lot more of the warrior-talk in Beowulf than of anything I know that’s been written in blank verse. Here are the first lines of Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf:
So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.
There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
This terror of the hall-troops had come far.
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
as his powers waxed and his worth was proved.
In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king. (3)
And here, in Jerome Clinton’s words, is Queen Katayun’s description of Rostam:
This warrior is an elephant in strength
And sets Niles of blood to flowing on the earth.
He tore the White Div’s heart right from his chest
And drives the sun from its own path. He slew
Hamavaran’s bright moon, Queen Sudabeh.
Yet none dared challenge him with a word. (40)
The stories of Beowulf and In The Dragon’s Claws are very different, as are the focal points of these two passages, but what I want you to notice here is that each partakes of a very traditionally male dominant warrior ethic. More to the point, this warrior ethic is one of the mainstays of the empires ruled by the men in the stories. Shield Sheafson is a good king because he was able to make the others clans submit to him, and the kings of Iran, within the world of the Shahnameh—though you don’t know this from the quote I have given you—have been able to rule largely because Rostam has been there to defend them on the battlefield.
The rulers of Iran are themselves warriors, of course, and when Esfandiyar—whose father, Goshtasp, is shah—meets Rostam on the battlefield, what we witness is a struggle between titans, a battle to the death between two men who not only have never been defeated, but whose victories surpass those of all other warriors. Indeed, it is the circumstance that pits these two men against each other in a fight that neither of them wants and that each recognizes not to be in his best interest that led me to see a connection between their story and the story of George W. Bush’s administration, its pursuit of empire and, specifically, the war in Iraq. First, though, there are some things you need to understand about the world view in the Shahnameh. This is from Jerome Clinton’s introduction to In The Dragon’s Claws:
"In the world of the Shahnameh, humankind seems to have existed before the first shah but as an undifferentiated species. The formation of human society required the shaping presence of a divinely appointed ruler. Other shahs…provided human society with those gifts—fires, tools, agriculture and the various crafts—that raise men and women above the level of beasts. In other traditions, these gifts that distinguish and sustain human society are gifts from the gods. In the Shahnameh it is Iran’s shahs who provide them, or, rather, it is through them [the shahs] that Yazdan, the sole god of pre-Islamic Iranian religious belief, gives them [the gifts] to mankind." (11-12)
Logically, then, “the focus of the tales” in the Shahnameh “is the life of the royal court [and, therefore,] one finds little mention…of the life of ordinary people such as farmers, shepherds or craftsmen” (10). More to the point, “the theme that underlies [the entire epic] is that God prefers Iran to other nations and sustains it through the institution of the shah. So long as His chosen shah sits upon the throne, Iran will endure” (12).
Perhaps you already sense some of the parallels to contemporary politics in the United States, but let me draw them out for you. The current Bush administration, along with its neo-conservative ideologues, is the first US government in a very long time to advocate openly for the pursuit of empire as a legitimate and desirable foreign policy goal. More to the point, they do so in terms that resemble the world view of the Shahnameh as explained above in the quote from Clinton’s introduction. Here, for example, is the first paragraph of The National Security Strategy of the United States, published by the Bush administration in 2002 (page numbers refer to a PDF version of the document that I have but that I have been unable to find a link to):
"The great struggles of the twentieth century between liberty and totalitarianism ended with a decisive victory for the forces of freedom—and a single sustainable model for national success: freedom, democracy, and free enterprise. In the twenty-first century, only nations that share a commitment to protecting basic human rights and guaranteeing political and economic freedom will be able to unleash the potential of their people and assure their future prosperity. People everywhere want to be able to speak freely; choose who will govern them; worship as they please; educate their children—male and female; own property; and enjoy the benefits of their labor. These values of freedom are right and true for every person, in every society—and the duty of protecting these values against their enemies is the common calling of freedom-loving people across the globe and across the ages." (3)
The United States, of course, according to this document, is the standard bearer of freedom. We are the one nation strong enough to promote it, protect it and to remove from power all who oppose it. The rest of the document is an explanation of how the Bush administration intends to bring, in Jerome Clinton’s words, “these gifts that distinguish and sustain human society” to the rest of the world; and just as the rulers of the Shahnameh are placed on the throne by their god, so too the Bush administration and the religious right argue that there is a special relationship between the United States and the god of the evangelical Christianity that is Bush’s professed faith. Unlike the Bush administration, however, and many of its supporters, who seem to believe in the inherent righteousness—political, moral, ethical, take your pick—of almost everything that has been done in pursuit of this empire, Ferdowsi, the author of the Shahnameh, is not so naïve about how empire works, recognizing that there are good kings and bad, and that sometimes the logic of empire, especially of a divinely appointed empire, can compel otherwise smart and essentially good people to act against their own best interests.
Shah Goshtasp, Esfandiyar’s father, came to power by removing the rightful ruler of Iran, Esfandiyar’s grandfather, from the throne. As might be expected of one who seized power in this way, Goshtasp tends to be insecure about his rule and sees in the motivations not only of those who are against him, but also of those who help him, as Esfandiyar does, the same desire for power that led him to seize the throne from his father. When the story of In The Dragon’s Claws opens, Esfandiyar is in a drunken rage, complaining to his mother that despite his completion of every task that Goshtasp has set for him, Goshtasp has failed to keep his promise and make Esfandiyar the king. Esfandiyar goes one step further, however, and in his drunkenness threatens to unseat Goshtasp if Goshtasp fails to honor this promise. Word of Esfandiyar’s threat reaches Goshtasp and Goshtasp immediately begins to plot Esfandiyar’s demise. (It is important to understand that Esfandiyar would never actually have carried out his threat; he is too loyal, honest and obedient a man for that. He said what he said when he was drunk, and when he realized what he’d said he was ashamed of himself.)
Goshtasp’s plan is quite ingenious. He accuses Rostam, who has been a true friend of Iran’s rulers, of “hold[ing] himself subordinate to none” and of being too proud to “stoop to mention Shah Goshtasp.” He charges Esfandiyar with going to Rostam’s kingdom, Zabolestan, and shackling Rostam, and bringing the hero back to the Persian court on foot, a humiliation he knows that Rostam is unlikely to allow himself to suffer. What Goshtasp hopes—because he has learned that Esfandiyar is fated to die by Rostam’s hand—is that Rostam will fight rather than submit and that this task he has set his son will seal Esfandiyar’s fate.
The shah’s charges against Rostam are trumped up and Esfandiyar knows it, and he knows as well that it is his life his father is really after, not Rostam’s humiliation, and he tells his father so:
…“O shah of all the world,” he said,
“Turn back from this. Your purpose here is not
Rostam or Zal. You seek Esfandiyar.
You would not yield your place to any man,
And so you’d have me vanish from the earth.
Let the crown and throne of all the Kays be yours,
And mine a single corner of the world.
I’ll be your loyal servant there as well
And humbly bow my head to your command.”
Esfandiyar means it. He is not seeking the throne, and he would be willing to sit in a corner of the world and bow his head to the shah’s command, but Goshtasp believes none of it and he sends his son off the bring Rostam back. Esfandiyar, bound as he is both by a religious duty to obey a divinely appointed shah and by a filial duty not to be a disobedient son, has no choice but to obey. To do otherwise would, in fact, brand him as a traitor and a threat to the world order. So, he takes his own sons and some other men with him to Zabolestan to confront Rostam.
It is possible, at this point, to find any number of parallels between the story of Esfandiyar and Rostam and the Bush administration’s war on terror, not so much in the plot points of the narratives, but in the values the narratives espouse and in the fact that these values are held in the context of imperial ambitions, among them:
- Our leader’s authority should not be questioned, neither should we question his reasoning or his motives;
- If you’re not with us, you’re against us.
What put me in mind specifically of the war in Iraq, though, were the various exchanges between Esfandiyar and Rostam leading up to their final battle. Not only do they smack of the shock and awe rhetoric with which the Bush Administration tried to intimidate the Iraqi forces leading up to the invasion of Iraq, with each man retelling his exploits on the battlefield in a way clearly intended to instill fear in the other, but, and more importantly, Rostam’s attempts to talk Esfandiyar out of what he is trying to do and Esfandiyar’s single-minded adherence to both to his father and his nation reminded me very strongly of the debate going on between President Bush and his supporters and those who have suggested it is time for the US to find a way to get our forces out of Iraq. Here is Rostam puzzling out for himself the politics of Shah Goshtasp’s charge to his son:
“Whether I let him bind my legs and arms,”
He thought, “or boldly choose to do him harm,
Both actions lead to evil and disgrace.
To set such harmful precedents is wrong.
His shackles will disgrace my name, and Shah
Goshtasp will do me harm at last. Throughout
The world, whoever has the power of speech
Will never weary or reproaching me.
‘Rostam was beaten by a single youth,
Who entered Kabol, bound his arms and brought
Him to Iran.’ My name will be disgraced.
No scent or hue or Rostam will survive.
And if he’s slain upon the battlefield,
His death will shame in all royal eyes.
‘He slew the youthful shah,’ they’ll say, ‘because
His speech to him was impolite and harsh.’
For this, when I am dead, I will be cursed
By all, and called an infidel. If I,
Instead, am killed by him, Zabol itself
Will lose all name and fame. No one will speak
Of it with pride.”
And here is what Rostam says to Esfandiyar:
“The years you’ve lived are few. You do not see
The shah’s malicious tricks. Your heart is pure,
And you know nothing of the world. Meanwhile,
The shah in secret plots your death. Goshtasp
Will never weary of the crown and throne.
They’re in his stars. That’s why he sends you off
Adventuring around the world and thrusts
You into each new crisis he stirs up. He searched
The earth from end to end, his clever mind
As sharp as any ax or adz, to find
Some hero who had never turned aside
From bloody strife and who was strong enough
To do you harm. All this so this high throne
And crown would stay within his grasp. It wouldBe right for us to curse the throne. Should we,To serve his purpose make the earth our bed?”
Rostam goes on to beg Esfandiyar not to do what he has come to do, and Esfandiyar offers this reply:
“I will not disobey the shah’s command,
Not for a crown or throne. I find in him
Whatever’s good or evil in this world.
My hell and heaven are contained in him.”
Esfandiyar will not budge and so the two men have no choice but to fight, but don’t their positions sound very, very familiar? Rostam argues, not unlike many on the left who think we never should have invaded Iraq, that because the shah’s motives for sending Esfandiyar are suspect (read here inaccurate, bad or purposely manipulated intelligence; our need to control Mideast oil, etc.), that Esfandiyar can and should back out of this mission. More to the point, Rostam argues that doing so in response to those suspect motives is an honorable thing to do. Esfandiyar, on the other hand, not unlike many on the right, insists that he can do no such thing, that his allegiance is to a higher calling (read here: the spread of democracy, national pride, the need to support our troops now that we’re in Iraq, etc.) than whether or not his father’s motives are pure.
The value in seeing this parallel between classical Iranian literature and contemporary politics, however, is not that the Shahanmeh provides any justification for one side or the other in today’s ongoing debates over Iraq or the war on terror or any other Bush administration’ policies. Not only is the world of the Shahnameh too far removed from our own, but also, as a work of literature, it is more an exploration of issues than it is an argument for one side or the other. Indeed, it is this kind of exploration, the willingness on the part of both parties fully to explore the consequences of their positions, that is missing from our current debate and that works of literature like the Shahanmeh can provide.
At the end of In The Dragon’s Claws, Rostam kills Esfandiyar and, as Rostam predicted, he is shamed as a result; Esfandiyar comes out as the “good guy” and the one with the greatest reward because he has left a good name behind him and will carry that good name into the next world. As for Shah Goshtasp, who is the only one in the story who has gotten what he wants, once the cynicism of his motives is revealed, his people turn against him. And all of that is in keeping with the structural principles that organize the world in the Shahnameh, and all of that cannot help but feel unjust. According to Clinton, that injustice is precisely what Ferdowsi, the author of the Shahnameh wanted his readers to ponder:
"I believe that questioning God’s wisdom in choosing and supporting Goshtasp as shah is precisely what Ferdowsi wishes us to do. He is no revolutionary. He accepts monarchy as the system that God has chosen to order human society. But in this magnificent and painful tale he has chosen to reveal to us the dark and shadowy side of that system. A bad monarch can be the enemy of all that is most admirable, and peace and security have been won here at a price that may be too heavy for society to bear." (23)
If only those who so single-mindedly support the war on terror and the war in Iraq would, even if only in a similarly non-revolutionary way, ask the same kinds of questions about how President Bush and his associates want to achieve peace and security. I probably would not agree with much of what they would come up with as an answer, but the questioning itself would be a welcome change from the rhetoric that now dominates our discourse on the subject.
