On something else…
Some out there will remember, maybe fondly, maybe painfully, reading Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” at some time in the past. Here is what is probably the most poetic passage in the play, the moment when Caliban, the “savage,” complains about his treatment by Prospero.
The passage is followed by my translation in my native language, western Friulian, a language so little known, and used, as to be virtually nonexistent outside Friuli. Yet within Friuli it does exist and it has a lot of value. If it ceased to exist, Friuli would lose a significant part of its culture. I’d hate to see that happen. That explains my translation of “The Tempest” in Friulian, as it explains why I have done, and am doing a lot of other translation work.
I should add this: that my valuing Friulian a lot, doesn’t mean that I value Italian or English any less. Pretty darned hard to beat Shakespeare at his own game; pretty hard to beat Ariosto or Dante at their own game. But Friulian is not so bad either.
And by the way, I have just asked ChatGPT to translate this same passage in an indigenous language of British Columbia. The result can be seen below. Admittedly, I have no idea of how good the translation of Shakespeare’s passage is in the Salish language, but that hardly mattters: what matters is that this language is part of the Salish culture and it should be valued as such. This, though, does not mean that the Salish language should replace the English language, any more that the Friulian language should replace the Italian language in Friuli. Both can, and should, coexist. Losing either one would be a loss for everyone.
Caliban.
“This island’s mine by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first,
Thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst
give me
Water with berries in ’t, and teach me how
To name the bigger light and how the less,
That burn by day and night. And then I loved thee,
And showed thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and
fertile.
Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you,
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o’ th’ island.”
Caliban.
“Chista išula a è me, par via di Sycorax, me mari,
che tu ti mi às partàt via. Cuant ch'i ti èris apena rivàt,
ti mi caresàvis e cocolàvis, ti mi dèvis aga che dentri
fràulis a veva, e i ti mi insegnàvis coma clamà
la lus pì granda, e chè mancu granda,
ch'a lùšin dì e nòt; e alora ben i ti volevi
e jodi i ti fevi ducju i aspiès da l'išula,
bieli sorgìvis, bušaròs di aga salada, postùs
fèrtils e stèrils: magari cussì no, maladèt ch'i soj.
Che ducju i striamìns di Sycorax a ti còlin tal cjaf!
Che jò i soj il ùnic sùdit ch'i ti às,
che na volta i eri jò il re di me stes: e chì sieràt
ti mi tens, coma ta un pursitàr, in ta sta cjera dura,
al stes timp che lontàn ti mi tèns
dal rest da l'išula.”
Me. Great! Can you translate this passage in any indigenous language of British Columbia?
GPT. Certainly! Let's use Hul'q'umi'num', a language spoken by some Coast Salish peoples in British Columbia, Canada, for the translation:
"Haycəm̓əʔ naχʷulh kʷaʔ miʔ ʔi sxʷəy̓əm̓,
Iʔ wəlh hwəʔ yiʔ ʔəmiʔ. T'at'ulh 'ul' kwəs skwəl'ʷul'wə,
Hayuχum̓əm̓ ʔəməʔ 'iʔ sxʷəy̓əm̓, naʔ ʔutʔul',
C'ulhkʷulhkʷət'ən̓əm̓ qʷay̓ət'ulhkʷət'ən̓əm̓, siʔəḥəc',
ʔəmiʔ ʔəlmət, ts'əl'umət, kwəxʷum̓ət ʔəlʔuw̓ənəx̣ʷ.
Cəčəl' uɬq̓ʷuʔ n'əntsiʔ ʔəməʔ! Sxʷəy̓əm̓ ʔi naʔəst,
N'əntsiʔ ʔəməʔ! ƛ̓aʔatʔaʔ naχʷulh Sycorax,
ʔi xʷəʔaʔi, ƛ̓aʔatʔaʔ iʔ naχʷulh, x̣əʔ yə
ʔi ʔiʔ sxʷəy̓əm̓. ʔi kʷaʔ ʔəmiʔ pən̓ ʔəməʔ
Saχʷəy̓əm̓ ʔi ʔəlmət. Hwuch tiʔiʔ ƛ̓aʔatʔaʔ ʔi
N'əntsiʔ ʔəməʔ, 'uʔiʔ kwət'ələm̓ ʔi ʔəməʔ
ʔuʔ k'ʷaʔiʔuʔt, q'ʷaʔuʔt k'ʷaʔiʔuʔt ʔiʔ t'at'ulh."
Keep in mind that Hul'q'umi'num' is just one of the many Indigenous languages in British Columbia, and translations can vary across dialects.
