Metamorphosis 1; Part III

By this point, I trust you all know the drill for these Tales of Two Translations. I provide the original Latin for a section of an esteemed ancient text first, then translations by two translators with distinct translation styles. As you read through the post, give a translation of the original Latin a shot on your own. Confused? Take a peek at one of the translations below, and try to parse out how the translators concocted the English from the Latin. Then, after you've completed your first rough translations, read through the English translations in quick succession. Jot down: how do they differ from each other? How do they differ from your translation? What accounts for these discrepancies? Edit your translation to whatever extent you please; I'd recommend removing any glaring errors (such as incorrect subject-verb agreement) but leaving room for your own stylistic interpretation. Remember: translating is difficult, but exposure is the best way to learn. Attempting a translation, digesting a successful one, and then re-attempting week over week is the most surefire way to improve your Latin skills in a short period of time. Plus, recall that I'm learning right alongside you! By the end of this series, all of us will have strengthened our translation skills and have a unique interpretation of a seminal Latin text as an added bonus. Without further ado, bring on the Latin!

Original Latin

Neve foret terris securior arduus aether,

adfectasse ferunt regnum caeleste gigantas

altaque congestos struxisse ad sidera montis.

tum pater omnipotens misso perfregit Olympum

fulmine et excussit subiecto Pelion Ossae.

obruta mole sua cum corpora dira iacerent,

perfusam multo natorum sanguine Terram

immaduisse ferunt calidumque animasse cruorem

et, ne nulla suae stirpis monimenta manerent,

in faciem vertisse hominum; sed et illa propago

contemptrix superum saevaeque avidissima caedis

et violenta fuit: scires e sanguine natos.

Quae pater ut summa vidit Saturnius arce,

ingemit et facto nondum vulgata recenti

foeda Lycaoniae referens convivia mensae

ingentes animo et dignas Iove concipit iras

conciliumque vocat: tenuit mora nulla vocatos.

Est via sublimis, caelo manifesta sereno;

lactea nomen habet, candore notabilis ipso.

hac iter est superis ad magni tecta Tonantis

regalemque domum: dextra laevaque deorum

atria nobilium valvis celebrantur apertis.

plebs habitat diversa locis: hac parte potentes

caelicolae clarique suos posuere penates;

hic locus est, quem, si verbis audacia detur,

haud timeam magni dixisse Palatia caeli.

Ergo ubi marmoreo superi sedere recessu,

celsior ipse loco sceptroque innixus eburno

terrificam capitis concussit terque quaterque

caesariem, cum qua terram, mare, sidera movit.

talibus inde modis ora indignantia solvit:

'non ego pro mundi regno magis anxius illa

tempestate fui, qua centum quisque parabat

inicere anguipedum captivo bracchia caelo.

nam quamquam ferus hostis erat, tamen illud ab uno

corpore et ex una pendebat origine bellum;

nunc mihi qua totum Nereus circumsonat orbem,

perdendum est mortale genus: per flumina iuro

infera sub terras Stygio labentia luco!

cuncta prius temptanda, sed inmedicabile curae

ense recidendum, ne pars sincera trahatur.

sunt mihi semidei, sunt, rustica numina, nymphae

faunique satyrique et monticolae silvani;

quos quoniam caeli nondum dignamur honore,

quas dedimus, certe terras habitare sinamus.

an satis, o superi, tutos fore creditis illos,

cum mihi, qui fulmen, qui vos habeoque regoque,

struxerit insidias notus feritate Lycaon?'

Translation 1: Ian C. Johnston, 2011

*Ian C. Johnston is a professional author and Latin translator who was named professor emeritus of the Classics Department at Vancouver Island University. His translation of the Metamorphosis was lauded by the international Latin community and turned into an audiobook the year after it was published.

And to make the lofty aether no more safe than Earth, they say that Giants tried to overrun the realms of heaven, by piling one mountain on another, up to the soaring stars. Then Jupiter, the all-powerful father of the gods, hurled down his lightning bolt, smashed Olympus, and split Ossa away from Pelion lying underneath. When those frightful Giants lay buried in the structure they had made, men claim that Earth, drenched with great quantities of her children’s blood, grew damp, then gave life to the warm gore, and changed it to the form of human beings, so that some monuments of that ferocious race might still remain. But those progeny, scorning gods above, were violent—eager, before all else, to keep on killing. You could well conceive that they were born from blood.

When Saturn’s son, father of the gods, sees what is going on from his loftiest citadel, he groans, and, recalling the polluted banquet at Lycaon’s table, as yet unknown, because it is so recent, in his mind senses an enormous rage, a feeling befitting Jupiter. He calls a meeting. Those summoned are not tempted to delay. There is high in the heavens a pathway conspicuous for its very whiteness and visible when skies are clear. This track men call the Milky Way. For gods above the road leads to the halls and royal home of the great Thunderer. To the left and right, stand crowded throngs beside the open gates of homes belonging to the nobler gods. Common gods inhabit various places, but here the powerful and famous ones who live in heaven make their dwelling place. If I might be allowed a bold expression, this is a place I should not hesitate to call great heaven’s imperial palace. And so, when the gods above are seated in the marble inner room, Jupiter, sitting high above them all and leaning on his ivory sceptre, shakes his head three or four times, tossing that fearful hair which sets the earth, sea, and stars in motion, then opens his mouth, and speaks these words, stating his indignation: “My worries about the earthly realm were no greater when each of those serpent-footed Giants was ready to throw his one hundred arms around the captured sky, for even though the enemy was savage, still that war hung on one group and had a single cause. Now I must wipe out the race of mortals over the entire world, in all places where Nereus roars. I swear I’ll do it, by all the infernal rivers flowing through Stygian groves underneath the earth! We have already tried all other options, but a wound beyond all cure must be removed, sliced off with a knife, so that healthy parts are not corrupted, too.

My subjects include demi-gods, rustic deities, nymphs, fauns, satyrs, and wood-dwelling spirits in the mountains. These we do not yet think worthy of a place in heaven—but still, we may surely let them live on in those lands we have assigned to them. Do you believe, you gods above, that they will be quite safe when Lycaon, famous for his cruelty, sets traps for me, the god who governs you and has the lightning bolt at his command?”

Translation 2: Anthony S. Kline, 2000

*A.S. Kline is a poet, author, and translator who graduated from the University of Manchester and dedicated his life to translations of Latin, Ancient Greek, Classical Chinese, and other European languages. He is best known for his contributions to the site "Poetry in Translation," where he serves as the chief translator.

Rendering the heights of heaven no safer than the earth, they say the giants attempted to take the Celestial kingdom, piling mountains up to the distant stars. Then the all-powerful father of the gods hurled his bolt of lightning, fractured Olympus, and threw Mount Pelion down from Ossa below. Her sons’ dreadful bodies, buried by that mass, drenched Earth with streams of blood, and they say she warmed it to new life, so that a trace of her children might remain, transforming it into the shape of human beings. But these progeny, also despising the gods, were savage, violent, and eager for slaughter, so that you might know they were born from blood.

When Saturn’s son, the father of the gods, saw this from his highest citadel, he groaned, and recalling the vile feast at Lycaon’s table, so recent it was still unknown, his mind filled with a great anger fitting for Jupiter, and he called the gods to council, a summons that brooked no delay.

There is a high track, seen when the sky is clear, called the Milky Way, and known for its brightness. This way, the gods pass to the palaces and halls of the mighty Thunderer. To the right and left are the houses of the greater gods, doors open and crowded. The lesser gods live elsewhere. Here, the powerful and distinguished have made their home. This is the place, if I were to be bold, I would not be afraid to call high heaven’s Palatine.

When the gods had taken their seats in the marble council chamber, their king, sitting high above them, leaning on his ivory sceptre, shook his formidable mane three times and then a fourth, disturbing the earth, sea, and stars. Then he opened his lips in indignation and spoke. ‘I was not more troubled than I am now concerning the world’s sovereignty than when each of the snake-footed giants prepared to throw his hundred arms around the imprisoned sky. Though they were fierce enemies, their attack came in one body and from one source. Now I must destroy the human race, wherever Nereus sounds, throughout the world. I swear it by the infernal streams that glide below the earth through the Stygian groves. All means should first be tried, but the incurable flesh must be excised by the knife, so that the healthy part is not infected. Mine are the demigods, the wild spirits, nymphs, fauns and satyrs, and sylvan deities of the hills. Since we have not yet thought them worth a place in heaven, let us at least allow them to live in safety in the lands we have given them. Perhaps you gods believe they will be safe, even when Lycaon, known for his savagery, plays tricks against me, who holds the thunderbolt, and reigns over you.’

In conclusion...

I hope you enjoy the latest entry into Tales of Two Translations! Today, we were introduced to a brand-new translator, Ian C. Johnson, whose style is compelling and distinctive from that of the known quantity, A.S. Kline. As you reflect on these two translations, be sure to note the similarities and differences you observe. Why do you think these authors disagreed on specific ways to interpret the Latin text? Investigate the Latin too: in your opinion, does the original Latin evidence one interpretation more than the other? And don't worry, if the translations are boggling your mind a little bit, you aren't alone in the slightest. If you need that break, comment on your ideas about the story itself. Why do you think it's so beloved, so crucial to Latin literature? How do you see this origin story connect to others that you've heard? All of these questions are crucial exercises for helping you mentally bridge the gap between an ancient language and one that, although it originates from Latin, has been transformed by our modern world.

We hope you enjoyed our third entry in Tale of Two Translations, featuring some more sections of Metamorphoses Book 1. Please leave any comments, questions, or concerns below, and be sure to recommend future translations, texts, prose, or poems for us to dive into!