When I tried to mix a bunch of different translations, I found they weren't different enough to really stick out from each other. It just read like slightly weird phrasing. So I took the most stylistically different translations I had access to: Chapman's 1616 version, possibly the first into English, and Wilson's 2018 version, with a notably unique style.
First: mixed sections of three lines
Second: mixed sections of two lines
Third: mixed phrases -- tried to generally stay with line breaks from the source material, but wasn't too concerned with it
Backgrounds are from Nemfrog again, less random this time.
or, let one line echo the other, line after line, Wilson after Chapman...
ReplyDeleteis there an echo?
or, employ the page gutter, facing pages...
can one translation serve as chorus to the other (perhaps by repeating only certain words, as if a translation of difficult/obscure English terms)
thinking of Jack Stauffacher's Phaedrus...
trying to think, of how the formal decision, would have affect-ive implications. echo (and partial echo), chorus...
chorus, as if hearing the recitation from afar, and repeating only the few words that come through clearly (through noise, through time... even mistaken hearings)
and/or.
ReplyDeletesuspense of turning page, which translation for the solitary line on that page (huge type?)
or, blind printing of line of Chapman (deep impression?), and inked printing of Wilson above that (just a slight kiss of ink on paper), so Chapman's ghost, so to speak, lingers these centuries later?
here's Keats, On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer.
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
I think it's the Nemfrog background of the third, as if two columns — and as if electroencephalographic readings of pulse(s) — that prompts these and/or musings, btw.
ReplyDeletepulses, or echoes.
more : mixed section of three lines — as if a recitation, relay recitation, two different centuries' respective styles — handing the story back and forth.
ReplyDeletewonder if layout can play a rôle (or more of one) in that.