José Luís Costa was born in 1978 in Lisbon, where he currently lives. He studied Classical Philology at the Faculty of Arts of Lisbon. He has translated works by Yannis Ritsos, Katerina Gogou, Dimitris Liakos, and Yannis Stigkas. His most recent translation is the complete poetic works of C. P. Cavafy. He is also a conference interpreter and a poet.

Reading Greece* spoke to José Luís Costa about his venture to translate Cavafy’s complete poetic work into Portuguese, the challenges he faced, also discussing how appealing Greek literature is for Portuguese readers, and the role of translators as cultural ambassadors fostering deeper understanding between peoples and cultures.

Your latest venture is a translation of C.P. Cavafy’s complete poetic work to be published by Assírio e Alvim. What inspired you to take on Cavafy, and which were the main challenges you were faced with?

I must say that the idea of translating all of Cavafy’s poems was not originally mine, but a suggestion from the publishing house. In Portugal, there are already at least three translations of the Cavafy canon – one of them covering the entire canon, and the other two covering most of the poems. Since a particular translation stands out – that of the Portuguese poet Manuel Resende – I hesitated a little before giving a positive answer. In the end, it seemed to me that the time had come for Portugal to have an edition that includes all the well-known poems, as well as those outside the canon.

Cavafy’s poetry is known for its subtle irony, historical layering, and philosophical depth. How do you preserve these qualities in Portuguese without losing the fluidity of the original text?

I do what I can. Of course, the most difficult aspect in the case of Cavafy is preserving the coexistence of different registers – katharevousa, demotic, poetic or oral speech, for example. The truth is, this is often an impossible feat. Yet it is paradoxical that, although this coexistence is so characteristic and so important, the poems seem to withstand translation with relative ease. Something is inevitably lost, as always happens with the translation of poetry, but the core of the poem is so clear and strong that we almost forget the issue. For this reason, I would even say that there are poets far more difficult to translate than Cavafy.

You have translated works of Yannis Ritsos, Katerina Gogou, Dimitris Liakos, and Yannis Stigas into Portuguese. What initially drew you to modern Greek poetry, and what challenges did you face in bringing these voices to a Portuguese-speaking audience?

I have loved poetry since my adolescence, even before I learned Greek. I write poetry myself, so it was only natural for me to translate in the field that interests me most. The challenges are considerable, as the average Portuguese reader knows very little about contemporary Greek poetry. Not even Cavafy is widely known, except among those who are well-versed in poetry. Unfortunately, I cannot say that my work has significantly changed this landscape.

How appealing do you consider Greek literature to be for Portuguese readers? And, in turn, what is that may draw a Greek audience to Portuguese literature?

In both cases, I would say that the interest in knowing what is happening in the other country may come from the fact that we are almost like siblings – in the sense that we are both part of the PIGS, that we share a glorious past which somehow weighs on us, that we have sun, sea, good food, and a similar way of life. Yet most people in both countries do not realize this, so let’s say we are siblings who were lost and grew up apart. Filling that gap, that is a motivation. I must also say, however, that Greece has done much more work in this regard. I am struck by how many contemporary Portuguese writers have been translated into Greek, and I am sorry that the reverse is not true.

Most scholars reckon that the content of a book cannot be separated from the particularities of the language that gave it shape. In this respect, where does the role and responsibility of the translator lie? Can translation ever be unethical?

Honestly, I don’t have a theoretical framework regarding these matters. I am far more interested in the act of translation itself than in translation studies, so to speak. Of course, I consider a bad translation an unethical act – much like building a bad bridge would be. Fortunately, in the case of a bad translation, no one is likely to die from its immorality!

Despite their arduous and pivotal work, translators usually remain invisible: their names are often not even mentioned, while they are ignored by critics and readers. What could be done to bring translators to the forefront?

Their names should appear on the covers of the editions, for example. But I also don’t believe that translators need to have excessive visibility. Let’s return to the bridge analogy: it doesn’t seem tragic to me that we don’t know the names of the engineers who built them. I am speaking of the general public. Those who are more directly interested in poetry and literature will know.

Could translation contribute to a better understanding between cultures and translators act as cultural ambassadors between countries?

Of course! How could we enter a culture, embrace a different mindset, without translations? Let translators be ambassadors, yes; though discreet ambassadors.

*Ιnterview by Athina Rossoglou

TAGS: LITERATURE & BOOKS | READING GREECE