poetry book club: cass dalglish’s ‘humming the blues’

by Jessica Fox-Wilson

I am in awe of poets who translate poems from other languages. These poets must possess a certain amount of confidence, insight and ambition to translate poetry into their own language. They must consider connotation, prosody and overall meaning in order to arrive at a semblance of a poem. The finished product must have a beauty of its own, while conveying the intention, theme and cultural history of the original poem. There are reasons, after all, that many poets use translation as a method of improving their own poetry.

Minnesota* author and poet Cass Dalglish has undertaken a great feat of translation in her new book Humming the Blues. Dalglish chose to translate Nin-me-sar-ra, the first poem ever signed by a poet. The Sumerian poem was written by Enheduanna, a female priest, poet and prince (the Sumerian language doesn’t have gender distinctions in its titles) who was driven from her throne by a male rival.

The challenges presented by this project are many. First, the original poem was written thousands of years ago in an ancient language, Sumerian cuneiform, and melded the myth of Inanna with Enheduanna’s banishment from her position of power. In order to successfully translate the poem, Dalglish needed to be familiar with Sumerian cuneiform, mythology, history and society. She would also need to tap into the sorrow and anger that Enheduanna must have experienced after losing her home and throne.

In Humming the Blues, Dalglish exceeded expectations of translation by “riffing” on the themes, sounds and images of Nin-me-sar-ra, just as a jazz musician riffs on traditional music. Dalglish created 49 prose poem meditations based on the lines in Enheduanna’s original poem, which weave the Sumerian poet’s voice with a more modern, feminist interpretation of the Inanna myth. The poem nearly reads radically, since the narrator addresses the goddess as “you,” a sister, hero, confidante and fellow survivor of atrocities. Consider, for example the familiarity from the second section of the poem: “You’re not a trophy / not some kind of ornament, a decoration for the sky — you’re / the healer, the wild god who turns her ear towards heaven, who digs her feet / into the earth, who whispers into the wind.” In lines like these, the narrator asks Inanna to become a fellow traveler in her journey and participant in her eventual rebirth.

Throughout my reading, I was struck by how current the poem felt, from its vibrant, musical phrasing to the narrator’s raw emotional tone. Translations can seem static at times, because the translating poet is chained to an ancient or distant experience. In Humming the Bones, the poem could have been written by any wronged woman throughout history because her rage and grief seemed so real. Later in the poem, when the narrator asks Inanna, “Are you talking to me? Do you have plans for me? / Why should I keep singing? Words don’t stick to water and fire,” it could be any woman questioning her faith.

While the book may sound heavy and difficult to digest, Dalglish crafted a very insightful introduction on the Inanna myth and a closing essay on her translation process. These two pieces were especially instructive, because I learned much more about the original poem and Dalglish’s successes and failures in her process.

After reading Humming the Blues, I felt as if I had received lessons in Sumerian history and poetic translation. I also felt as if I had traveled back in time to sit across from Enheduanna and listen to her song of mourning and exaltation. It is clear that Cass Dalglish approached the original poem with a sense of its significance and timelessness, which served her jazz translation so well.

If you’re interested in translation or the roots of poetry, I would highly recommend this book.

As a side note, I should mention that Cass Dalglish and I work in the same professional circles, although I have very limited interactions with her.

Dalglish, Cass (2008). Humming the Blues. Corvallis: Calyx Press.