Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke (2012) Paperback

"Be patient with all that is unsolved in your life and learn to love the questions themselves." (From Letters to a Young Poet). Rainer M.
Rilke challenges us to accept the challenges of each day gracefully and with expectation. His thoughts continue to uplift me.

The Letters was an assignment that at first seemed a daunting read, as it is written in old English. After the first letter or so, if a person payed attention to what was said, it became profound. It was very uplifting and would make a good gift for someone who is going through hard times or needs self-examination.

Not the best printed version of these great letters, but it is the cheapest. It is worth buying a few copies and passing it along to friends who might be going through a hard time. Within are words that can comfort even the most despondent of souls.

Mitchell's is a mediocre translation, and does not match that of M.D. Herter Norton (Letters to a Young Poet), whose quintessential translation must be the standard for all others of Rilke's work. You cannot see these pages in the Look Inside feature, but the following famous passage in Letter 8 is an excellent example. "Mr. Kappus," the young poet, might as well be us, and the passage can be read without the words "dear Mr. Kappus" and stands alone -- at least in the M.D. Herter Norton translation.

M.D. Herter Norton's translation (Letters to a Young Poet) reads:

"How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are the beginning of all peoples? The myths about dragons that, at the last moment, turn into princesses. Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses, who are only waiting to see us, once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is, in its deepest being, something helpless that wants help from us. So, you must not be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up before you, larger than any you have ever seen. If a restiveness like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening to you. That life has not forgotten you. That it holds you in its hand. It will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any agitation, any pain, any melancholy, since you do really do not know what these states are working upon you? ..."

Stephen Mitchell's (Letters to a Young Poet (Modern Library)) and (Letters to a Young Poet), whose introduction is somewhat bizarre, gets going and then his translation falls flat.

Mitchell's translation reads:

"How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all the races, the myths about dragons that are at the last moment transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love. So you mustn't be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why to you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression. since after all you don't know what work these conditions are doing inside you?...."

Really, "[p]erhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love"? Our LOVE? No reason for this translator's license, none at all.

Now, compare these to Charlie Louth's (Letters to a Young Poet), which in not only wordy but changes meaning due to changes in word order:

"How can we forget those ancient myths found at the beginnings of all peoples? The myths about the dragons who at the last moment turn into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses, only waiting for the day when they will see us handsome and brave? Perhaps everything terrifying is deep down a helpless thing that needs our help. So, dear Mr. Kappus, you shouldn't be dismayed if a sadness rises up in front of you, greater than any you have ever seen before; or if a disquiet plays over your hands and over all your doings like light and cloud-shadow. You must think that something is happening with you; that life has not forgotten you; that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why should you want to exclude from your life all unsettling, all pain, all depression of spirit, when you don't know what work it is these states are performing within you? ... "

If one goes further back in this letter, to Rilke's discussion of solitude, the demarcation between the beautiful and the mediocre translation is just as clear. I find M.D. Herter Norton's translation (Letters to a Young Poet) to be by far the most beautiful, poetic and meaningful, although reading other translations can add to the reader's understanding, or else, show the reader which translation speaks to him.

On the other hand, here is an opportunity to compare, free of charge, three translations. I have chosen to confine myself to the M.D. Herter Norton one (Letters to a Young Poet), since I don't want to interrupt the flow of reading as I study these great letters, and feel it is best to choose one. It is a shame the M.D. Herter Norton translation is not currently in print in hardcover. Still, there are used copies to be found and I'd rather buy several paperback copies of Norton's than have a nice-looking hardcover of a mediocre translation.

===================
[For those interested, the discussion of solitude that I mentioned states in part (M.D. Herter Norton's translation; words in capitals indicate words italicized in the text): "...to speak of solitude again, it becomes always clearer that this is at the bottom not something that one can take or leave. We ARE solitary. We may delude ourselves and act as though this were not so. That is all. But how much better to realize that we are so, yes, and even begin by assuming it...." For anyone who has ever had an epiphany of his aloneness, his loneliness even in a crowd, Rilke's discussion (in Norton's translation) states beautifully this experience and truth. For anyone who hasn't, Rilke gets him thinking about the possibility.]
===================
Note: I use the neutral singular third person pronoun and its variations in my reviews. I never like "she" for "he" since it has never been inclusive of both genders, whereas "he" has always been inclusive of "she" as well, unless it stands for a specific male. This fact of the English language ought, I feel, to be maintained since it exists in English texts for hundreds of years. I've never had a problem, as a female, of understanding that I am included in "he/him/his" when these occur in the generic sense.

Mitchell's is a mediocre translation, and does not match that of M.D. Herter Norton (Letters to a Young Poet), whose quintessential translation must be the standard for all others of Rilke's work. You cannot see these pages in the Look Inside feature, but the following famous passage in Letter 8 is an excellent example. "Mr. Kappus," the young poet, might as well be us, and the passage can be read without the words "dear Mr. Kappus" and stands alone -- at least in the M.D. Herter Norton translation.

M.D. Herter Norton's translation (Letters to a Young Poet) reads:

"How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are the beginning of all peoples? The myths about dragons that, at the last moment, turn into princesses. Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses, who are only waiting to see us, once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is, in its deepest being, something helpless that wants help from us. So, you must not be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up before you, larger than any you have ever seen. If a restiveness like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening to you. That life has not forgotten you. That it holds you in its hand. It will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any agitation, any pain, any melancholy, since you do really do not know what these states are working upon you? ..."

Stephen Mitchell's (Letters to a Young Poet (Modern Library)) and (Letters to a Young Poet), whose introduction is somewhat bizarre, gets going and then his translation falls flat.

Mitchell's translation reads:

"How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all the races, the myths about dragons that are at the last moment transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love. So you mustn't be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why to you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression. since after all you don't know what work these conditions are doing inside you?...."

Really, "[p]erhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love"? Our LOVE? No reason for this translator's license, none at all.

Now, compare these to Charlie Louth's (Letters to a Young Poet), which in not only wordy but changes meaning due to changes in word order:

"How can we forget those ancient myths found at the beginnings of all peoples? The myths about the dragons who at the last moment turn into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses, only waiting for the day when they will see us handsome and brave? Perhaps everything terrifying is deep down a helpless thing that needs our help. So, dear Mr. Kappus, you shouldn't be dismayed if a sadness rises up in front of you, greater than any you have ever seen before; or if a disquiet plays over your hands and over all your doings like light and cloud-shadow. You must think that something is happening with you; that life has not forgotten you; that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why should you want to exclude from your life all unsettling, all pain, all depression of spirit, when you don't know what work it is these states are performing within you? ... "

If one goes further back in this letter, to Rilke's discussion of solitude, the demarcation between the beautiful and the mediocre translation is just as clear. I find M.D. Herter Norton's translation (Letters to a Young Poet) to be by far the most beautiful, poetic and meaningful, although reading other translations can add to the reader's understanding, or else, show the reader which translation speaks to him.

On the other hand, here is an opportunity to compare, free of charge, three translations. I have chosen to confine myself to the M.D. Herter Norton one (Letters to a Young Poet), since I don't want to interrupt the flow of reading as I study these great letters, and feel it is best to choose one. It is a shame the M.D. Herter Norton translation is not currently in print in hardcover. Still, there are used copies to be found and I'd rather buy several paperback copies of Norton's than have a nice-looking hardcover of a mediocre translation.

===================
[For those interested, the discussion of solitude that I mentioned states in part (M.D. Herter Norton's translation; words in capitals indicate words italicized in the text): "...to speak of solitude again, it becomes always clearer that this is at the bottom not something that one can take or leave. We ARE solitary. We may delude ourselves and act as though this were not so. That is all. But how much better to realize that we are so, yes, and even begin by assuming it...." For anyone who has ever had an epiphany of his aloneness, his loneliness even in a crowd, Rilke's discussion (in Norton's translation) states beautifully this experience and truth. For anyone who hasn't, Rilke gets him thinking about the possibility.]
===================
Note: I use the neutral singular third person pronoun and its variations in my reviews. I never like "she" for "he" since it has never been inclusive of both genders, whereas "he" has always been inclusive of "she" as well, unless it stands for a specific male. This fact of the English language ought, I feel, to be maintained since it exists in English texts for hundreds of years. I've never had a problem, as a female, of understanding that I am included in "he/him/his" when these occur in the generic sense.

I absolutely adore this book and I highly recommend it to everyone. This book provides great inspiration for writers of poetry, narrative, or any other type if artist. Rilke's words can give a person of any age a clear reason to create.