Most of us read ancient literature in translation these
days, whether in school or for pleasure. These translations range from literal
to flowery, but in general, all of them will be missing wonderful things that you can find in the original text. Words in one language don't always translate
completely into another, which means that translators have to make choices about the
particular meanings that they want to capture when rendering a passage in the
target language. Here’s an example. These five lines begin one of the pillars of
Western literature, the Odyssey:
ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ
πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσεν:
πολλῶν δ᾽ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω,
πολλὰ δ᾽ ὅ γ᾽ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν,
ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων.
Here’s my quick and mostly literal translation, though many
of you are probably familiar with the lines in general:
Tell me of the man, oh muse, much-turned, who every way
was made to wander, after he destroyed the divine city of Troy:
he marveled at the cities of many men and knew their minds,
and many pains he suffered on the sea in his heart,
striving to save his life and the homecoming of his companions.
Nearly all of us first came into the contact with the Odyssey through some translation or
another. Robert Fitzgerald’s translation has long been popular in schools, but
you may have first read Richmond Lattimore’s classic translation, Stanley
Lombardo’s modern verse rendering, or perhaps an older prose translation, such
as Samuel Butler’s or that of W.H.D. Rouse.
All of these translations, and most others, render lines 3-5
in mostly the same way as I’ve done, though each of course exercises his or her
poetic muscles in one way or another with word-choice and phrasing. Every
translator, however, faces a challenge in the first two lines, largely coming
from the word πολύτροπον (polutropon or polytropon).
This is the word I’ve translated as “much-turned,” which is an entirely literal
reading that gives no real sense of the word's broad range.
Here are some examples to demonstrate what I mean. Take
Samuel Butler’s translation of the first two lines (emphasis is mine—the
italics are the translator’s rendering of πολύτροπον):
Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero, who traveled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy.
W.H.D. Rouse takes a different approach in his prose
translation:
This is the story of a man, one who was never at a loss. He travelled far in the world, after the sack of Troy, the virgin fortress
Here’s Fitzgerald’s, which is probably the most well-known:
Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
Richmond Lattimore (whose translation was the first one I
read), gives us the following:
Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways, who was driven
far journeys, after he had sacked Troy’s sacred citadel.
And last, but not least of the translations I have on hand,
Stanley Lombardo, translates these lines so:
Speak, Memory, of the cunning hero,
The wanderer, blown off course time and again
After he plundered Troy’s sacred heights.
Here, just from five examples (six, if you count my own
attempt), we have Odysseus described as “cunning,” “ingenious,” “never at a
loss,” “of many ways,” “skilled in all
ways of contending,” and the more opaque “much-turned.” Every one of these
renderings brings with it a certain picture of the hero, but in the original
Greek, polutropon carries all of them
and more.
Polutropon is an
object-form of πολύτροπος (polutropos),
a compound of πολύς (polus), “many”
or “much,” (which you’ll recognize from “polytheism," and)
and τρόπος (tropos), “turn,” or
“way.” Tropos also carries the sense
of a “manner” or “habit” (which should feel familiar if you've ever spent time at TV Tropes). Taken together, the most sensible literal English
rendering of polutropos is
“many-turned” or “much-turned,” but neither one of those captures much of the word’s
real meaning.
Lattimore’s translation, “of many ways,” is perhaps nearest to providing some sense of the
word in English while staying as true to the Greek as is reasonable. Polutropos is also used of the god
Hermes, metaphorically, to indicate a certain craftiness or versatility.
Odysseus certainly fits that bill, as well, which gives us Butler’s “ingenious”
or Lombardo’s ”cunning.”
But, even ”much-turned” describes something about Odysseus.
After the sack of Troy, his νόστος (nostos)
or “homecoming,” doesn’t come to fruition for ten years. Why does it take so
long? The Cyclops Polyphemus, after his famous (and painful) encounter with
Odysseus, calls upon his father Poseidon to curse the man “skilled in all ways
of contending, ” such that he comes home long after he would otherwise (and to
find his home a mess when he finally does). Much of Odysseus’ ten year
wanderings are a direct result of this incident, as Poseidon answers his son’s
prayer, leaving the hero “much-turned” away from his destination.
Polutropos is just
one example of why it can be illuminating and altogether more rewarding to read
literature in its original language. Though each translation of the word is in
and of itself an accurate one, each is forced to sacrifice some aspect of its
greater meaning. Odysseus in particular is exemplary of every shade of meaning polutropos possesses, and the best way
to capture that is to go back to the original Homeric Greek.
If you’re interested in learning more about Homeric Greek
and Ancient Greek in general, you can head here. This site contains a few
texts in the original Greek (like Homer’s Iliad)
enhanced with mouseover definitions, as well as some suggestions on how to
start learning the language on your own.
I’m eternally grateful
to Professor Keith Dickson of the Classics Department at Purdue University,
who sparked my love for the classics.
This piece is ultimately derived from his lectures on Greek literature, which I
thoroughly enjoyed all the way back in 2003.
