When translating poetry, notes the scholar AK Ramanujan, you must recreate not so much the literal sense of the original, as the effect it has on the reader.
The following is a prime example of recreating effect (while being remarkably faithful). It is Ramanujan's rendition of perhaps the most famous Tamil poem ever written:
What could my mother be
to yours? What kin is my father
to yours anyway? And how
did you and I meet ever?
But in love
our hearts have mingled
like red earth and pouring rain.
(from the classical anthology Kuruntokai)
As a rule, I never say 'there is only one way of translating this line into English.' At the last line of the above translation, I accepted defeat. Only one translation of செம் புலப் பெயல் நீர் போல knocks the breath from your body like a physical blow, and Ramanujan found it.
I also greatly appreciate Ramanujan's decision, in this version (he had another) to switch round the order of the phrasing. The original ends with 'in love our hearts have mingled,' which makes a bit more sense in Tamil, but Ramanujan understood the power of putting that stunning image at the end.
Tamil poets are often named after their best lines, and so the author of this verse is just given as Cempulapeyaṉīrār, 'Man of red earth and pouring rain.'
For no particular reason, this poem reminds me of Edward Thomas's remark:
'[..] and because love is wild, strange, and full of astonishment, is one reason why poetry deals so much in love, and why all poetry is in a sense love poetry.'
That last remark has always lingered with me.
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