This poem depicts a dialogue between a father and his son while they were leaving Palestine to Lebanon to escape the 1948 Nakba (catastrophe). Both this poem and the poem after it handle the theme of exile. The first metaphor appears in the line:
توﯾﺑﻟﺎﻓ توﻣﺗ اذإ بﺎﻏ ﺎﮭﻧﺎﻛﺳ
and specifically in the verb phraseتوﻣﺗتوﯾﺑﻟﺎﻓ(houses die). The metaphor in the ST is a metaphor of personification as the non-human توﯾﺑﻟا (houses) are given human or, more generally, living features (die) to express the state of houses after they have been deserted. The ‘houses’ are deployed as the ‘topic’ of the metaphor and ‘die’ as the vehicle or ‘death’ as the domain of the vehicle. In other words, the topic is stated explicitly, but the vehicle (relating to human beings) is implicit; it can be worked out
from the use of the verb توﻣﺗ (die). This type of metaphor in Arabic is ‘implicit’. The ground of similarity is obviously that both deserted houses and people at a certain stage (when they are left alone for example) will have no spirit or life and will ultimately ‘die’.
This metaphor involves a clearly fixed meaning of ‘death’, i.e., coming to an end, although it is not lexicalized in this sense. It is however common in Arabic culture to describe empty or deserted houses as ‘dead‘ and even to refer to them as ‘tombs’.
Similarly, a deserted quarter normally turns into a graveyard. This is therefore a schematic metaphor. In schema-related terms, this metaphor fits into an overall pattern like CEASING TO EXIST IS DYING. This is a single-word metaphor in respect to size terms as only the word توﻣﺗ (die) is used metaphorically.
Jeffrey Sacks translates this metaphor as:
Houses die when their inhabitants are gone…
And Amira El-Zein translates it as:
For houses perish if their inhabitants go away.
The image of ‘dead houses’, i.e. left alone and no longer inhabited, is clearly painted in the SL, and it can be easily distinguished by the reader of Arabic. In the first translation,
‘houses’ are depicted as if they literally ‘die’. It is acceptable in English to use the verb
‘die’ metaphorically in the sense ‘to come to an end’. This is clear when we refer to the
‘death’ of a certain culture or language. In the second translation, the use of the verb
‘perish’ for توﻣﺗ is also acceptable as ‘perishing’ and ‘death’ can be viewed as synonyms when they are used to refer to ‘houses’. The resemblance between ‘houses’
and human beings appears to be kept in both translations as the vehicle (death) is retained through the verbs ‘die’ and ‘perish’ respectively.
The message embedded in the original metaphor is that ‘if we leave our houses for a long time (in exile), they will vanish and disappear (through the effect of the new occupiers) and we cannot reclaim them any longer’. This message is conveyed in the SL by using the verb توﻣﺗ (die) to describe what happens to houses. This message is conveyed successfully in the TL in the two versions, but the reader of English probably needs to know the context of the poem as explained above.
The procedure adopted by Sacks is to retain the SL schematic metaphor with a TL schematic metaphor. El-Zein, however, keeps the image of death in the SL but uses another word ‘perish’. In doing this, she retains the same sense, but the verb used,
‘perish’, is less common and more formal than ‘die’.
The second metaphor appears in the line:
ﺢﺗﻔﺗ
Here, ‘eternity’ means ‘long exile’ and ‘opens its doors’ means ‘receive’ those travelling at night. In this metaphor, Darwish likens ‘eternity’ to a building, probably a jail or a refugee camp. This is clear as this building has gates that can be opened for travelers. The topic is ‘eternity’ and the vehicle, ‘long exile as in a refugee camp’, is not mentioned in the poem. This is an implicit metaphor in Arabic. The ground of similarity is that eternity and a refugee camp both imply a very long stay, whose end is neither predictable nor foreseeable as people there do not have the right of self-determination. They cannot open the gate and go back home.
This metaphor does not involve a clearly lexically fixed meaning of ‘opening the gate’
such as ‘giving freedom’ for example. It thus can be termed non-lexicalised in Dickins’
typology of metaphor as it is necessary to establish the meaning from the context. In Newmark’s typology, it is also an original metaphor that is created by the SL writer. In schema-related terms, this metaphor is non-schematic, as it does not fit into a particular pattern of metaphors. This metaphor cannot be viewed through the verb ﺢﺗﻔﺗ (opens) alone or the object ﺎﮭﺑاوﺑأ (its gates), but through the full sentence ﺔ ّﯾدﺑﻷا ﺢﺗﻔﺗ ﺎﮭﺑاوﺑأ(eternity opens its gates). As a result, it is a phrasal metaphor in respect to size.
Jeffrey Sacks translates this metaphor as:
Eternity opens its gates from a distance.
And Amira El-Zein translates it as:
Eternity opens its doors from afar.
The image of ‘gates opening’ is clear in the SL poem. It is also clearly depicted in the two versions above as the verb ‘opens’ is used for ﺢﺗﻔﺗ and the nouns ‘gates’ and
‘doors’ are used for باوﺑا in both translations. It is common in English to use a term like
‘opens its doors’ to mean ‘to receive’. An example is ‘Jordan and Turkey opened their doors to Syrian refugees’. The resemblance between eternity and refugee camps is conveyed in both translations through the use of the words ‘open’, ‘gates’ and ‘doors’.
The message embedded in the original metaphor is that ‘the Palestinian refugees will remain in refugee camps forever’. This message is clear throughout the stanzas of the poem and particularly the last ironical phrase دوﻧﺟﻟا لﯾﺣر دﻌﺑ (after the soldiers’
departure). Similarly, the message is conveyed in both translations above, but again the reader probably needs to read the full poem to understand the context.
Both Sacks and El-Zein adopt the procedure of retaining the SL original metaphor as an original metaphor having the same vehicle in the TL as Dickins puts it, or simply the procedure of “reproducing the same image in the TL” in Newmark’s terms. This procedure seems to work with this particular metaphor as the same vehicle exists in both the SL and TL.
In the line:
ﻎﺿﻣﯾ شﺋﺎط ٌدﻏ نﺎﻛو ﺢﯾرﻟا
the poet likens tomorrow’s suffering of exile (شﺋﺎطدﻏ) to a person chewing on the wind (ﺢﯾرﻟاﻎﺿﻣﯾ). In metaphorical terms, this is an implicit metaphor in the SL in which the topic is given (شﺋﺎطدﻏ) and the vehicle (a person chewing on the wind) is implicit rather than explicit. It can be understood through the use of the verb ﻎﺿﻣﯾ as an attribute of a non-human abstraction شﺋﺎط دﻏ .The ground of similarity is that living in exile and chewing at the wind are a time spent in vain. In addition, both living in exile and chewing at the wind are boring and harmful. This manifests itself in the line following the line above:
In Arabic, there is no fixed meaning for ‘chewing at the wind’ although most Arabic speakers may understand the meaning of it as ‘to do something in vain’. This sense, however, cannot be found in dictionaries. The metaphor, thus, can be termed non-lexicalised and specifically original in both Newmark’s and Dickins’ terms. In schema-related terms, this metaphor is non-schematic, as it does not fit in a certain overall schema. This metaphor is a phrasal one as it cannot be interpreted through a single
word in it, but only when read together asﺢﯾرﻟا ﻎﺿﻣﯾ ٌدﻏ (a tomorrow chewing at the wind).
Jeffrey Sacks translates this metaphor as:
A reckless tomorrow chewed at the wind.
And Amira El-Zein translates it as:
It was a heedless tomorrow that chewed on the wind.
The image in the original poem is depicted through a creature (probably a horse, after which the collection of poems is entitled), as the verb ﻎﺿﻣﯾ (chew) usually collocates with ‘grass’. This animal chews at the wind in vain. Later he gets ill and bored as he actually chews at nothing and thus finds nothing to swallow but the wind itself. This metaphor cannot be interpreted easily as the ground is indeterminate and it can be worked out by readers in different ways. The two translations above are almost word-for-word. The resemblance between ‘reckless or heedless tomorrow’ and a ‘person chewing at the wind’ is retained in the translations above through the literal translation of the metaphor.
The message conveyed in the original metaphor is that ‘the Palestinians in their exile will spend their time suffering in vain and finally arrive at no result’. This message again can only be interpreted if we know the context in which the poem was written.
This also identically applies to the two translations above.
Both translators reproduce the same image and retain the vehicle in the TL through a literal translation of this metaphor. This procedure may not be helpful in rendering this metaphor, as the image and vehicle are indeterminate in the TL. Adopting another procedure that would shed some light on the meaning and image of this metaphor could be of help.
The last metaphor in the poem appears in the lines:
ّﻛذﺗو ر ًﺎﻋﻼﻗ ﺔﯾﺑﯾﻠﺻ
ﺎﮭﺗﻣﺿﻗ شﺋﺎﺷﺣ نﺎﺳﯾﻧ
and specifically in the second line. Looking closely into this line, we can find a double metaphor. In the first, the poet likens the crusader fortresses to weeds that are cut off, and in the second, the weeds of April are likened to animals that gnaw. Although weeds are known to be chewed by animals, they are paradoxically depicted here as an animal (probably the horse after which the collection is named) that gnaws. This converse resemblance, in which the object (weeds) becomes a subject, gives evidence of the strength of the poet in this figure of speech.
In the first metaphor, the topic (fortresses of the Crusaders) is mentioned, but the vehicle (cut off weeds) is not given. It can be guessed from the verb مﺿﻗ (cut off) which usually collocates with ‘weeds’ or ‘grasses’. This type is called an implicit metaphor.
The ground of similarity is that both the fortresses of the Crusaders and the cut off weeds are only remnants. Some people, animals, or another external factor ruined them, but they still point to something in the past.
In the second metaphor, the topic (weeds in April) is mentioned, but the vehicle (animals) is not given. Again, it can be worked out from the verb مﺿﻗ (gnawed). This is also an implicit metaphor. The ground of similarity is that both weeds and animals can be destructive to the environment around them. When weeds surround a building or another plant, they harm it, and similarly when animals eat grass, they damage it. In this regard, it is worth mentioning that it is common in Arabic, especially in colloquial language, to use the verb لﻛأ (ate) or ﻊﻠﺗﺑا (usurped) as close in meaning to مﺿﻗ (gnawed) in a negative secondary sense to mean ‘damaged’ or ‘harmed’. It is acceptable for example to say ﺔﯾﺎﻧﺑﻟا تﻠﻛأ شﺋﺎﺷﺣﻟا (the weeds ate the building) to mean
‘destroyed it’, ﮫﮭﺟو لﻛأ لﯾوطﻟا هرﻌﺷ (his long hair ate his face) to mean ‘affected its beauty’,دﻠﺑﻟالﻛأﺔﯾﻟﺎﻣﻟا رﯾزو(the finance minister ate the country) to mean ‘he stole the money), andﺔﯾﻋارزﻟاضرﻷاتﻌﻠﺗﺑاتﺎﻧطوﺗﺳﻣﻟا(the settlements usurped the arable land) to mean ‘damaged it’.
This double metaphor can be termed non-lexicalised and specifically original in both Newmark’s and Dickins’ terms as there is no fixed meaning in Arabic for ‘fortresses gnawed by weeds’. This meaning cannot be found in dictionaries. In schema-related terms, this metaphor is non-schematic as it does not fit into a certain overall schema.
This metaphor cannot be interpreted through a single word, but only when the words are read together asنﺎﺳﯾﻧشﺋﺎﺷﺣﺎﮭﺗﻣﺿﻗﺔﯾﺑﯾﻠﺻ ًﺎﻋﻼﻗ (Crusades’ fortresses gnawed by April
weeds). The only metaphorical element in this phrase, however, is تﻣﺿﻗ (gnawed), making this a lexical single-word metaphor.
Jeffrey Sacks translates this metaphor as:
Remember crusader citadels gnawed by April weeds And Amira El-Zein translates it as:
Remember the fortresses of the crusades eaten by April’s grasses.
The image in the original poem needs the reader/hearer to think deeply to grasp it.
The image of the remains of castles is given in the domain of eating, and particularly
‘gnawing weeds’. This mapping seems rather odd to the reader of Arabic. Both translators try to keep the image in the translated version, but El-Zein slightly changes the image from ‘gnawing’ to ‘eating’. Although both terms belong to the same field (food), ‘gnawing’ suggests biting and leaving something behind, but ‘eating’ implies swallowing and leaving no remains. This translalation choice, however, may have been guided by rhythm. In addition, El-Zein uses ‘grasses’ instead of ‘weeds’ for شﺋﺎﺷﺣ. The word ‘grasses’ looks inferior to ‘weeds’ as it means ‘types of grass’ and does not suggest ‘harm’ as implied in the latter.
The message embedded in the original metaphor is that ‘the historical features of Palestine will be destroyed by the actions of the Jewish settlers and troops’. This message can be interpreted if the reader recognizes the semantic significance of ﺎﻋﻼﻗ ﺔﯾﺑﯾﻠﺻ (fortresses of the crusades). The Crusades, as Collins COBUILD Dictionary puts them, “were the holy wars that were fought by Christians in Palestine against the Muslims during the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries”. This meaning is conveyed in both translations through the words ‘crusader’ and ‘crusades’
respectively.
Both translators seek to reproduce the same image and retain the vehicle in the TL.
Sacks is able to do so through using the terms ‘gnawed’ and ‘weeds’ for مﺿﻗ and شﺋﺎﺷﺣ.
These terms can be viewed as equivalent to the terms in the original poem. El-Zein deploys the terms ‘eaten’ and ‘grasses’. These terms in fact do not fit well for مﺿﻗ and شﺋﺎﺷﺣ,as ‘eating’ does not necessarily reflect ‘leaving something behind’ and ‘grasses’
means different types of grass and is also a neutral word that does not suggest ‘harm’.