I wonder, often, how much we conform what we are thinking, or think we are feeling, to the words we can find to express it. Like when the world or our mood is colored by a dream we can barely remember, and as soon as we try to tell someone of the dream it all disappears.
Perhaps one of the reasons I like music, or poetry that suggests rather than itemizes.
So only a few words today, and they’re not mine, but Ann Carson’s, on the challenge and evocative nature of translating:
Prowling the meanings of a word, prowling the history of a person, no use expecting a flood of light. Human words have no main switch. But all those little kidnaps in the dark. And then the luminous, big, shivering, discandied, unrepentant, barking web of them that hangs in your mind when you turn back to the page. . .
All those little kidnaps in the dark.
The barking web of them.