Here is the translation of Zbigniew Herbert’s famous poem “Kamyk,” as Czeslaw Milosz
as I first published it in 1968:
the pebble
is a perfect creature
equal to itself
mindful of its limits
filled exactly
with a pebbly meaning
with a scent that does not remind one of anything
does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire
its ardour and coldness
are just and full of dignity
I feel a heavy remorse
when I hold it in my hand
and its noble body
is permeated by false warmth
—Pebbles cannot be tamed
to the end they will look at us
with a calm and very clear eye
Herbert’s poem “Pebble” is rightly one of his best known in translation. It was also one of
the easiest Herbert poems for Milosz and me to translate, because of its matter-of-fact
lucid exposition of a trope that, for the most part, is not dependent on subtleties of
language. In essence it is an intellectual warning against the falsity of pathetic fallacies.
His emphasis on what has been called “the thingness of things” reminds us of the work of
earlier objectivist poets, notably Rilke, Williams, and Ponge.
“Pebble”‘s astringent anti-romanticism can be read as a rebuttal to Milosz’s early poem
‘Love’:
…whoever sees that way
Without knowing it, from various ills —
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend….
He doesn’t serve the best who understands.
(The sense of a dialogue between poets becomes even stronger when we read the later
“Conversation With a Stone” by Wislawa Szymborska: “I knock at the stone’s front door./
“It’s only me, let me come in.”/ “I don’t have a door,” says the stone.”)
Straightforward though the poem may be, it was one of the very few Herbert poems
which, precisely because of its tight austerity, gave rise to two irresoluble disagreements
between Milosz and myself as to how to translate it. I failed forty years ago to persuade
Milosz to accept these two changes. At the time I was filled with awe and gratitude for
the exciting and educational experience of translating with him, so I deferred.
Nevertheless my two suggested alternatives have since continued to haunt me. How
important these nuanced differences are, the reader can judge.
In the first couplet, “kamyk jest stworzeniem/ doskonalym,” there is, as is normal
in Polish, no article, either definite or indefinite. English requires one, unless you cheat
and use a plural — “pebbles” — which would not work well with what follows. I wanted very
much to start off in a low key, “a pebble/ is a perfect creature.” Milosz, I’m not sure why,
insisted on ‘the pebble/ is a perfect creature,’ establishing a tone which I considered
unsuitably elevated, declamatory and didactic. (A definite article is available in Polish,
but Herbert chose not to use it, which is a further reason to think of ‘a pebble’ as the
default translation.)
A more serious disagreement arose over the last line. Milosz insisted on translating the
last two lines as “to the end they will look at us/ with a calm and very clear eye.” I have
always believed that we should have followed Herbert’s carefully selected word order in
Polish (okiem spokojnym bardzo jasnym), which is “[with an] eye calm [and] very clear.”
In general we agreed that it was important to respect Herbert’s very precise choice of
word order; but here I think that Milosz followed his own personal preference for a
continuous vernacular style, over the slightly heightened resonance of Herbert’s final
word “clear.”
I still disagree with this choice. I find it jarring, as well as metrically awkward, to come
down heavily at the end on the false metaphor, “eye;” I believe that Herbert intended the
line to proceed from that small metaphor outwards, to the open-ended clarity that
characterizes not just the word but the entire poem.
My admiration of Milosz is one that still generates in me the desire to dispute with him.
As to which is the better version of “Pebble,” I will let the reader decide. Here is mine:
Pebble
a pebble
is a perfect creature
equal to itself
mindful of its limits
filled exactly
with a pebbly meaning
with a scent that does not remind one of anything
does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire
its ardor and coldness
are just and full of dignity
I feel a heavy remorse
when I hold it in my hand
and its noble body
is permeated by false warmth
—Pebbles cannot be tamed
to the end they will look at us
with an eye calm and very clear
© Peter Dale Scott