Persian - Language of Poetry

Recently, I was approached by a writer who requested permission to translate The Well-Lived Life into Persian. You can imagine my delight. In my book, I included the Persian poet Rumi as an example of someone whose legacy descended upon him like a force of nature. Rumi is the continuation of an historical tradition in Eastern civilizations of revering poetry written in the Persian language. Today, the language is spoken by an estimated 110 million people. The decision to proceed with the translation will require an agreement between my publisher HarperCollins and whichever publisher proposes to produce the Persian version. Negotiating these kinds of agreements isn’t easy, and I wish my intrepid translator the best of luck in his quest.

Anticipating this exciting prospect got me thinking about the process of translating. Over the length of my career, many reports that I have written have been translated, but always into French – a language I read and speak. I was able to provide input into the translation – correcting a misreading of my text or suggesting a more appropriate word that was closer to my intended meaning. This time around, having no ability with the Persian language, I would be relying completely on the translator’s skill - to both grasp what I was trying to say and capture its meaning in Persian.

This got me thinking about the English language translations of Rumi’s work that I’ve read, nearly all of them written by Coleman Barks. Barks does his own free-form interpretations of Rumi’s work based on translations from scholars such as R. A. Nicolson and A. J. Arberry. One of my favourite verses is “The Guest House” in which Rumi compares each of us to a guest house, continually facing a stream of new arrivals. He encourages us to welcome all guests, even the ones that bring us misery, because they arrive with the potential to renew our lives. Recently, I found another translation of this poem written by Melody Moezzi with her father, Ahmad Moezzi, who guided her through the Persian. She included the verse in her recent book The Rumi Prescription. Barks and Moezzi use very different styles and both are successful at evocatively making Rumi’s point. 

For comparison, here are a few lines.

Moezzi: “Welcome every guest, no matter how grotesque. Be as hospitable to calamity as to ecstasy, to anxiety as to tranquility. Today’s misery sweeps your home clean, making way for tomorrow’s felicity.”

Barks: “Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.”

I’m writing this on October 3rd, Rumi’s birthday. He would have turned 813. Thanks to his translators, Rumi’s fame is universal.