I had been preparing for my graduation exam in my field of study, "translator-assistant," since my third year by participating in academic conferences and winning awards.
During my fourth year, I presented my own translation of a poem from J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings."
Coming in second place boosted my self-confidence and led me to encounter Shakespeare in my life.
Here's how it all went:
In my final year of university, I needed to choose a topic for my thesis. As a creative person who believes in God and isn't afraid of challenges, I selected the following topic:
"The Translator as a Conveyor and Interpreter of the Author's Ideas (Illustrated by the Translation of Fiction)."
As examples of fiction, I chose texts from Tolkien's "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings."
All three drafts of my thesis were rejected, and my supervisors complained about health issues, a broken fridge, and various financial and material hardships. And then...
one of the supervisors showed me a thesis from the previous year and mentioned that a more astute individual had analyzed Shakespeare...
I picked his 66th sonnet, found 16 translations by different authors, analyzed the verse meters and other linguistic elements, and then inspiration struck. I completed my own translation in time for the defense.
The supervisor was displeased and exclaimed:
"What?! The smartest one, are you?! The greatest, perhaps?!".
Nevertheless, I earned my well-deserved B+ and gained invaluable experience.
And here is the translation itself.
66
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
Мой перевод 66-го сонета Шекспира
Я смерть зову - приди. Я от всего устал.
Как обреченный видеть лишь Пустыню,
И как Ничтожество себе возводит Храм,
И Вера не спасает нас отныне,
И Честь, продавшую за золото свой стыд,
И девичью Невинность в жрицах оргий,
Как Совершенства облик был забыт,
Хромая Власть сломила Силы гордость,
Что нет Искусства - лишь Авторитет,
И Глупость, как знаток, диктует Знанью
В Наивность Правду окрестили все,
Добро склоняется под Злобы дланью ...
Я бы ушел во тьму я от всего устал,
Но я б тогда тебя навеки потерял...
2.07.2005.