Obligatory comment that translations matters a lot especially in a language as old as Ancient Greek and so does, in the cases of plays, formatting, as demonstrated in the following examples.
Let’s compare three translations of the opening of Clouds
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Howard S. Rubenstein
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SCENE: A sleeping-room in Strepsiades’ house; then in front of Socrates’ house.
STREPSIADES. Great gods! will these nights never end? will daylight never come? I heard the cock crow long ago and my slaves are snoring still! Ah! ‘twas not so formerly. Curses on the War! has it not done me ills enough? Now I may not even chastise my own slaves. Again there’s this brave lad, who never wakes the whole long night, but, wrapped in his five coverlets, farts away to his heart’s content. Come! let me nestle in well and snore too, if it be possible ... oh! misery, ‘tis vain to think of sleep with all these expenses, this stable, these debts, which are devouring me, thanks to this fine cavalier, who only knows how to look after his long locks, to show himself off in his chariot and to dream of horses! And I, I am nearly dead, when I see the moon bringing the third decade in her train and my liability falling due.... Slave! light the lamp and bring me my tablets. Who are all my creditors? Let me see and reckon up the interest. What is it I owe? ... Twelve minae to Pasias.... What! twelve minae to Pasias? ... Why did I borrow these? Ah! I know! ‘Twas to buy that thoroughbred, which cost me so dear. How I should have prized the stone that had blinded him!
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This is easily the worst one. The transcription of such a comic play needs to be visual, partitioned, jumping from one line of thought/action to another. This style of Elizabethan soliloquy is far too refined to produce the intended amount of schadenfreude. I could’ve excused this if it wasn’t translated in the 20th century.
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Alan H. Sommerstein—————————————————————
SCENE: For the time being, an indeterminate space, possibly to be thought of as the courtyard of Strepsiades’ house. Two men are lying asleep – or rather, one, Pheidippides, is sleeping soundly under an enormous weight of blankets, while his father Strepsiades is restlessly tossing and turning. Finally he abandons all attempts at sleep, and sits up.
STREPSIADES: O Lord Zeus, how long the night is! Will it never end? When will it be day? Come to think of it, I heard the 5cock crow ages ago. And the servants are still snoring! They’d never have dared to in the old days. Damn this war! One can’t even discipline one’s own slaves. And what about this dutiful son of mine? He never wakes up before sunrise either; just farts merrily away wrapped up in five or six blankets. Well, there’s nothing for it: let’s cover up and snore too. [He lies down again and tries to sleep, but soon gives up.] It’s no good, I can’t. I’m being bitten all over. Not by bugs – by horses and bills and debts, on account of this son of mine, him and his long hair and his riding and his chariot and pair. Even his dreams are all about horses. Result, every time the date gets past the twentieth, I’m fairly dying with fear as the interest gets ready to take another step up. [Calling through the door behind him] Boy! [A SLAVE appears.] Light a lamp and bring my accounts here. I want to see how many people I owe money to and how much the interest comes to.
[The slave goes out, and presently returns with a lamp and a number of waxed tablets. He gives STREPSIADES the tablets, and stays holding the lamp for him to read by.] Let me see now, what have we got? To Pasias, twelve hundred drachmas.' What was that for? Why did I borrow it? Oh yes, when I bought the koppa-bred horse. Heavens, I might just as well have copped it right then and there!]
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Falls to the same problem but to a lesser degree, at least the language isn’t archaic
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Aaron Poochigian
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(The setting is Athens, Greece, during the Peloponnesian War. There is a backdrop with two doors in it. This first scene takes place in front of the backdrop, a space that initially represents the inside of Strepsiades’s house. There is a bed in which Strepsiades and Pheidippides are sleeping. The time is just before dawn. In front of one of the doors—the door to the Thinkery—there are a statue of Hermes, a pedestal holding a jar with a “Vortex” pattern on it, and a variety of astronomical and geometric instruments. Above the door to the Thinkery there is a window. It is very late at night.)
STREPSIADES: (tossing and turning in bed) Goodness, goodness.
Great Zeus, how long the night is—infinite! Will morning never come? I swear I heard the rooster crow a long, long time ago. My slaves are all still snoring. In the past they never would have dared to sleep so late. I say goddamn this war for oh so many reasons: I can’t even beat the help!
(gesturing to Pheidippides)
This fine young man right here, he never wakes up during the night but simply goes on farting, five quilts deep. Oh well, since it seems the thing to do, let’s all just snore away, wrapped up in blankets. (Strepsiades lies back on the bed but then continues to toss and turn.)
Oh, I’m miserable!
I can’t sleep. I’m being eaten up by great expenditures,
by horse feed-troughs,
by all my debts,
(gesturing to Pheidippides)
because of this son here! He, with his long hair, won’t stop riding horses and driving chariots. He dreams of horses, and I feel ruined every time I see the moon has reached the twentieth of the month— the interest on my debts will soon tick up.
(shouting to a Slave offstage)
Bring me a lamp, now, boy! And bring my ledger so I can look at all my debts and reckon the interest up. (A Slave brings the ledger and a lighted lamp.)
Alright, then, let’s just see how much I owe: To Pasias, twelve minas. To Pasias, twelve minas? Why did I ever borrow that amount? Oh—when I bought the thoroughbred. Poor me! I wish a rock had thoroughly put my eye out first.
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My favorite, the last one I sampled and the one I decided to stick to. These plays are intended to be comical, and this translation made me laugh. I can vividly visualize the suffering of the characters and, without the veil of profundity, it becomes clear that everyone involved is a horrible person and frankly, morons, making it cathartic to laugh at their misery.
Poochigian’s writing is the most dynamic and colorful, the characters are hysterical and the serious moments are well deserved. Although the translation is a bit obscure, it’s a hoot to read.
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Aristophanes’ humor is crass, a translation adhering to Shakespeare-esque dialogue just does not fit here. Although such style is chronologically closer, the plays are roughly as far removed from now as it is from then, so if a contemporary style translation does a better job, why not utilize it?
The plays
Clouds: Aristophanes confessing on the low brow nature of his scenes, sulking over his play not winning and threatening the audience adds greatly to the play and not overdone, something easy to do with meta-humor(just look at the abundance of it nowadays), probably because the feelings behind them are not confined on stage. The chorus are useless and doesn’t really add anything to the narrative, they also don’t seem to care very much about the characters, which is just funny to me as the play seems to be subtly aware of this. The highlight is the fight between good Argument and bad Argument. The ending is anticlimactic and abrupt, as if the author just gave up, but that also seems to be on purpose. 8.5/10
Favorite line:
Socrates:”you’re on trial; you’ve got no witnesses; the guilty verdict is all but certain—how do you contrive to get out of it?”
Strepsiades:”That’s an easy one”
Socrates:”What do you do?”
Strepsiadea:”Alright, I’ll tell you: I, while there is time before my suit is called, ran off and hang myself”
Birds: The weakest play, in comparison to the other plays the premise wasn’t too interesting in the first place. It helps that the character seems to get sick of the schtick where by the midpoints and started driving out any cameos with moderate threats of violence. Fortunately the pace and exchanges really picked up at the last act, 7.5/10
Favorite line:
Peistheraerus: “there is no other Iris more deserving of summary arrest and execution”
Goddess Iris(confused): “But I’m immortal”
Lysistrata: Love how the Spartans are given a southern accents and how both gender got so blue balled they required auspicious excuses. 8.5/0
Favorite line:
Harden(gesturing to his erection): “After presenting this — my cock — as evidence”
Woman of the Assembly:
At this point I’m starting to understand that these plays has no climax and resolution, everything build up in the first act and the rest follows like an epilogue. Frankly the concept of commune sex(i.e having to screw the less desirable before the desirable) is really funny 8.5/10
Favorite line:
Praxagara: “that’s not a problem, since the women won’t be fighting about you. Don’t you worry, they won’t fight.”
Blepyrus: “About what, though?”
Praxagora: “About not getting to have sex with you. They don’t want sex with you already”