Abstract
To read Beckett translating is to perceive his genius differently. He was setting the stage for translation as high drama. When he translates his own poems, from English to French or the other way, he reminds us of his other work. When he translates Rimbaud (Le Bateau ivre) and Apollinaire (Zone), he finds what no one else would have found, as vocabulary and rhythm. And translating Char's remarkable poem on Courbet's Stone Breakers, he performs a transforming and multiplying act, hinging on the interpretation of one word, that makes, of translation, a miracle.
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