Some things just don't translate

I recently had a conversation with a friend about Tolkien in translation. We thought that while there are some aspects of The Lord of the Rings that should be read and experienced in one's native language, such as the interpersonal relationships of the characters, the deep ideas about life, love, etc., there are certain elements of the work that cannot (even should not) be translated. This is not to say that people who don't read English shouldn't be allowed to experience parts of Tolkien's work, but that when translated, these parts can never convey what they do in English. This is true of much that is translated, and is a fact which merely cannot be escaped. Especially regarding the poetry.

The Lord of the Rings is full of poetry, both in Quenya and Sindarin Elvish, and in English. This poetry is beautiful. It is beautiful not only in its content, its story, but also--and I would argue more so--in its form, its execution. The scansion of Tolkien's poetry cannot be reproduced in translation, at least that has been my experience with the French translation I own. The meaning of the story may remain--the bones, if you will--but the glamour of the poem's language--the connective sinews, the blood, the marrow--is lost. I use the word "glamour" with purpose, though I don't have the time to go into its significance right now. Save it for a later post.

As an example, allow me to quote the first stanza of the "Song of Eärendil," in the original English, and then in French:

Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat with timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow he fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.

Eärendel était un marin
qui demeurait en Arvernien;
il construisit un bateau d'arbres abattus
à Nimbrethil pour naviguer;
les voiles, il les tissa de bel argent,
d'argent étaient faits les fanaux,
la proue était en forme de cygne,
et la lumière s'étendait sur ses bannières.

Okay, so the French isn't atrocious, but it's not Tolkien. We clearly are made to understand Eärendil's occupation, his dwelling-place, and how he built his boat. But the poetic language doesn't shimmer. There isn't a steady rhythm. The subtle yet complex rhymes, the alliteration, and the octosyllabic lines of the original aren't and simply can't be preserved in translation.

Put simply, in French we hear the story, but we don't experience the glamour. And that is why I would argue that some things just don't translate.