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Zu Armanda Gormans "The Hill We Climb"Das Ringen um reinen Ausdruck

Die Debatte um die „richtige“ Übersetzung von Amanda Gormans Gedicht „The Hill We Climb“ zeigt vor allem, wie rasch emanzipatorische Bemühungen Gefahr laufen, in ihr Gegenteil umzuschlagen.

Michael Draghi, Amanda Gorman
Amanda Gorman als Mural: Die Autorin verschwindet aus der Debatte um Übersetzungsprobleme, wenn man nicht ihr Gedicht, sondern ihre Lebenserfahrung übersetzen möchte © AP
 

Die Ablehnung war breit gestreut, als diese Woche die deutsche Übersetzung von Amanda Gormans Gedicht „The Hill We Climb“ erschien. Eine entsprechende Forderung des amerikanischen Rechteinhabers hatte den Verlag Hoffmann und Campe veranlasst, für die Übersetzung des bei der Inauguration von Joe Biden vorgetragenen Werks ein „erfahrungsdiverses“ Übersetzerinnentrio zu beauftragen. Uda Strätling, Kübra Gümüay und Hadija Haruna-Oelker konzentrierten sich in ihrer Arbeit auf die Vermittlung der politischen und sozialen Bedeutungsebenen in Gormans Gedicht – sehr zuungunsten von Reim und Rhythmus, Stil und Schönheit.
Sieht man Übersetzungen vor allem als „Möglichkeit einer literarischen Antwort auf einen bereits bestehenden Text“, so wie das die Autorin und Übersetzerin der 2020 gekürten Literaturnobelpreisträgerin Louise Glück, Ulrike Draesner, in einem lesenswerten Essay getan hat, ist das ein Unding. Hält man sich hingegen an den oft zitierten Satz des Dichters Robert Frost, „Poesie ist das, was in der Übersetzung verloren geht“, scheint akzeptabel, dass die deutsche Gorman-Übersetzung künstlerisch überhaupt nichts zu wollen scheint.

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CuiBono
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3v3

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain.
If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked South.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.
The new dawn balloons as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

CuiBono
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2v2

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.
That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.
It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption.
We feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.
But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

CuiBono
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1v2 - Gelegenheit, sich seine eigene Meinung zu bilden: Here is the text of Gorman’s poem, “The Hill We Climb,” in full.

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.
We braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.
And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

CuiBono
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Gelegenheit, sich seine eigene Meinung zu bilden:


When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.
We braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.
And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will nev

melahide
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Ich

Eine deutsche Übersetzung gelesen ... und die war wirklich schlecht. Lyrik kann man nicht übersetzen. Entweder gehen Sinn oder Struktur verloren. Vor allem haben Wörter mehrere Bedeutungen ... „Even as we grieved, we grew“ um eine Zeile heraus zu nehmen. „Grief“ kann leiden, Schmerz, Trauer.... bedeuten. „Selbst als wir litten, wuchsen wir“... „auch als wir trauerten, wuchsen wir“ ... übersetzt wurde es mit „Dass, selbst als wir trauerten, wir wuchsen“....

Ähm .... ziemlich schwach. Man sollte das immer im Original lesen ....

zweigerl
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Das slowenische Original ist "ein Must"

D'accord. Da muss das Original her. Maja Haderlap verlangte einmal in einem Interview, auch die slowenische Lyrik, um ihre "Schönheiten" voll erfassen zu können, auf Slowenisch zu lesen. Ähm ... Slowenisch?!