The Art of Translation with Anna Zaranko
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Illustration by Marcel Olczyński
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The Art of Translation with Anna Zaranko

The Valdemar Questionnaire
Ernest Valdemar
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time 4 minutes

In the Valdemar Questionnaire, we give voice to translators who reflect on their work and role as intermediaries between languages and cultures. In this instalment of our series, Valdemar takes on Anna Zaranko, author of the featured translation “When They Come in Our Dreams” by Kornel Filipowicz.

You can read Anna’s translation of Kornel Filipowicz’s “When They Come in Our Dreams” here.

How did you become a translator?

By accident; people kept giving me things to translate – but I didn’t think of myself as a ‘Translator’, and I certainly wasn’t up on translation theory. Then one day, I had to visit Roman Zimand in Warsaw to discuss a piece of his I’d worked on. I was terrified. He basically gave me a pretty brutal, but incredibly useful workshop, in which I learnt all about

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When They Come in Our Dreams
Experiences

When They Come in Our Dreams

Kornel Filipowicz

Born in 1913 in Tarnopol (modern-day Ukraine), Kornel Filipowicz grew up in Cieszyn but spent most of his life in Kraków. He debuted before the war, but it was only later that he developed his unique style, which has been characterized by ‘metaphysical realism’ and a predilection for detailed portrayal of the everyday ‘banal’ reality of provincial towns. In his private life, Filipowicz was the long-term partner of Wisława Szymborska, and his poems and stories certainly show similarities to that of the Nobel Prize winner. Filipowicz was an enthusiastic fisherman, which is also reflected in his writing. Written probably in 1979, “When They Come in Our Dreams” is widely considered one of Filipowicz’s greatest masterpieces. More recently, the story has been described as prophetic and symbolic in the ways that it depicts the imminent migrant crisis.

It was frosty outside, but there was no wind. Through the window, I could see snowflakes floating lazily through the still air and settling quietly onto the ground, the roofs, and trees. It was afternoon already, time passed imperceptibly, empty and inert.

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