Becoming a translator opens me up to various fascinating challenges. I must ‘befriend’ words while also ‘battling’ the lexical gaps. The answer to the paradox between these two is a lie sometimes, especially in literature translation. Sometimes, we have to go over countless choices of words to find the best one. Sometimes, we have to create the words. Sometimes, we have to lie through our teeth to grasp the meaning or atmosphere. However, just like arts, often referred to as pious lies, translation work also has to act as a betrayal to prove its piety. Isn’t Bisma pietistic? Isn’t Shinta, too, that she was willing to be burned down?

I experienced this kind of dilemma during working on the translation of Deepak Chopra (which, to this day, I have no idea why it is not published yet), a collection of spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafiz, and many more. This happened again when I translated play scripts and short stories by Hemingway, The Fifth Column. Wouldn’t it be a lie, hypothetically, if I were to translate a Spanish stuttering in English like a Dutch struggling in Indonesian? Wouldn’t that be a lie to straightforwardly translate ‘Ubermensch’ (Nietzsche’s philosophy) into ‘Superman’ in English despite the glaring difference in the meaning? If I eventually translated it to Indonesian as ‘Adimanusia’, I still think the word does not encapsulate Nietzsche’s. I had to encounter this kind of lexical gap in translating philosophical texts. When I translated the word ‘know’ in social philosophy, I had to be aware of whether it meant ‘be familiar with’, ‘be aware of’, ‘understand’, and so on.

Translating books often gives me pleasure beyond financial matters. I feel happy and proud of my work on translating Theatre of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although its end remains vague until now) because I know this will bring greater good for my ‘great family’ in the theatrical world.

I eventually had the chance to get to know about international translation through the Internet. The world that I’ve always thought of as solitary wilds turns out to be fun. The translation portals on the Internet show me that I am not alone in the wilds of words. I met ‘creatures’ with various looks and ‘enchantment’ there. In the end, I never even once regret entering the wilds of words. As quoted from Robert Frost:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The role of a translator is intriguing, but it presents challenges. Among these, one of the most prominent is the need to establish a profound connection with words and surmount language limitations. This "intimacy" and "resistance" paradox often necessitates a slight deviation from the truth, particularly when translating literary works.

In certain cases, the ideal word may be elusive, and we may have to devise a new word to accurately convey the intended meaning. Sometimes, we may have to capture only the essence or nuance of the original text, which can be viewed as a "white lie" that must be told to maintain its integrity.

Was Bhisma's purity also recognized? Wasn't Sita's willing self-immolation intended to demonstrate her purity? I can empathize with this sentiment, having worked on translating Deepak Chopra's unpublished book featuring spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafez, and other poets, as well as Hemingway's play and collection of short stories, The Fifth Column.

It would be disingenuous of me to translate broken English spoken by a Spanish speaker as if it were the language of a Dutch person struggling with Indonesian.

Translating "Ubermensch" from Nietzsche's philosophy as "Superman" in English is only partially accurate, as the two words have different nuances of meaning. Even if I translate it into "Adimanusia", I must determine if the word truly captures Nietzsche's intended meaning.

Overcoming language limitations is especially challenging when translating philosophical texts. At times, we must concede to avoid confusion of thought. When translating the word "know" in social philosophy, I had to delve deeper to ascertain the precise meaning, whether it is knowing, understanding, comprehending, and so on.

However, aside from the challenges, translating books brings me immense joy. I'm proud of the satisfaction of translating Martin Esslin's Theatre of the Absurd, even though the manuscript is still awaiting publishing. This will greatly benefit my extensive community of theater enthusiasts.

I recently had the opportunity to become familiar with the world of international translation through online means. What I had previously perceived as a vast wilderness of language was an enjoyable experience. Through translation portals, I have also connected with other international translators with varying personalities and talents.

After reflection, I understood I would never feel remorse for exploring this vast wilderness. Robert Frost once said, "I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Being a translator turns out having many kinds of obstacles that even for myself seemed very mesmerizing. I need to strive to "usualize" words and "fight" the poverty of language. The paradox of this "intimacy" and "opposition" has to be handled into being such a "sin" sometimes, mostly when translating a literary work. At some point we had to choose from each many choices of words for in the end that we reach that one point where we thought for ourselves that it is the best option of all. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie with only catching the meaning or the nuance. But same goes for art, where people say that it is a "holy sin", the work of translating also has to collaborate sometimes to show its holiness. And doesn't Bisma also count as holy? Isn't Sinta also as holy until willingly burned by the fire? Things like this have never been experienced by me when I am translating the book of Deepak Chopra (Doesn’t know why until now it hasn’t been published) where it’s filled by poems of spiritual Rumi, Hafiz, and such as. Same goes for when publishing the script of play and bunch short stories of Hemingway, The Fifth Column. For example, isn’t it called a "sin" to translate a Spanish native that speaks stammering English, then I translate it into a Dutch who isn’t very fluent at speaking Indonesian. Isn’t it also a "sin" to translate a word of Ubermensch (In Nietzsche philosophy) where in English it’s called Superman, even though both have the nuance meaning that’s likely different. Even though in the end that I choose to translate it into Adimanusia, I’m still unsure if those words are filled with the concept that Nietzsche holds. While the experiences of handling the poverty of language that I’ve had experienced before especially when translating philosophy texts. There are times when we should give up avoiding the confusing matter of mind. When I was translating the word 'know' in social philosophy, in the end I had to sort on when this word has meaning: 'recognizing', 'knowing', 'understanding', and so on.

Translating a book usually gives pleasure on its own for me, outside of things that are counted as financial. I felt happy and proud to be given the chance of translating a book called Theatre of Absurd by Martin Esslin (Even now that the work’s fate isn't very stabilized), because I believe that this will be very helpful for "My big family" in the world of theater.

At last, I’ve been given the chance to get acquainted with international translations through the Internet. The world that I thought before was a "silent forest" of words turns out it’s capable of being an amusement too. My introduction to translator portals on the internet has awakened me to where I am not alone in this so-called forest. Inside I met a lot of "creatures" with each of every temperament and its "special abilities". In the end I know that I will never regret going into this forest. Just like what Robert Frost says:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator turns out to have various kinds of challenges that are so fascinating to me. I have to struggle to "familiarize" with words and "fight" language poverty. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be overcome to become a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose so many choices of words to finally arrive at what we think is the best. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie by only capturing the meaning or nuance. But just like art, which people say is a holy lie, translation works sometimes have to betray to show their sanctity. And isn't Bisma also Holy? Isn't Sinta also holy to be willing to be burned by fire? I experienced something like this when translating Deepak Chopra's book (for some reason it hasn't been published yet) which contains the spiritual poetry of Rumi, Hafiz and the like. Likewise when translating Hemingway's play and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie to translate a Spaniard with stammering English, and then I translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? Is it not a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) which is translated into English as Superman, even though the two have different nuances of meaning. Even if I finally choose to translate it into Superhuman, I'm still not sure that the word really embodies the concept that Nietzsche wants. Meanwhile, I experienced the experience of overcoming language poverty, especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translate the word know in social philosophy, finally I have to sort out when this word means: to know, to know, to understand and so on.

Translating books often gives me pleasure, apart from financial matters. I feel happy and proud to be able to translate the book Theater of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although now the script is in a state of flux), because I believe this will be very beneficial for "my extended family" in the theater world.

Finally, I also had time to get acquainted with international translation via the internet. The world that I previously thought was a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting too. My acquaintance with translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. In it I met many "creatures" with various temperaments and "magic powers". Finally I know I will never regret going into this jungle. As Robert Frost says:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator turns out to have various kinds of challenges that are so fascinating to me. I have to struggle to "familiarize" with words and "fight" language poverty. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be overcome to become a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose so many choices of words to finally arrive at what we think is the best. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie by only capturing the meaning or nuance. But just like art, which people say is a holy lie, translation works sometimes have to betray to show their sanctity. And isn't Bisma also Holy? Isn't Sinta also holy to be willing to be burned by fire? I experienced something like this when translating Deepak Chopra's book (for some reason it hasn't been published yet) which contains the spiritual poetry of Rumi, Hafiz and the like. Likewise when translating Hemingway's play and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie to translate a Spaniard with stammering English, and then I translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? Is it not a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) which is translated into English as Superman, even though the two have different nuances of meaning. Even if I finally choose to translate it into Superhuman, I'm still not sure that the word really embodies the concept that Nietzsche wants. Meanwhile, I experienced the experience of overcoming language poverty, especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translate the word know in social philosophy, finally I have to sort out when this word means: to know, to know, to understand and so on.

Translating books often gives me pleasure, apart from financial matters. I feel happy and proud to be able to translate the book Theater of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although now the script is in a state of flux), because I believe this will be very beneficial for "my extended family" in the theater world.

Finally, I also had time to get acquainted with international translation via the internet. The world that I previously thought was a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting too. My acquaintance with translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. In it I met many "creatures" with various temperaments and "magic powers". Finally I know I will never regret going into this jungle. As Robert Frost says:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator turned out to have a variety of challenges that for me were so fascinating. I had to fight to “accrue” words and “fight” language poverty. This paradox of “intimacy” and “resistance” must sometimes be overcome into a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose a choice of words to ultimately arrive at what we consider to be the best. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie by just capturing the meaning or nuance. But just like art, which people say is a holy lie, even translated works sometimes have to be treacherous to show their holiness. And isn't Bisma also holy? Isn't Sinta also holy to be willing to burn fire? This kind of thing I experienced when translating Deepak Chopra's book (inexplicably until now unpublished) which contains spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafiz, and the like. Similarly, when translating plays and short stories from Hemingway's collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie to translate Spanish into English stammering, then I translate like a Dutch person who stutters in Indonesian? Nor is it a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) which in English translates as Superman, even though both have different meanings. Even if I finally chose to translate it into Adimanusia, I am still not sure that word accommodates the concept that Nietzsche wanted. While the experience of overcoming language poverty I experienced especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translate the word know into social philosophy, I finally have to sort out what this word means, to recognize, to know, to understand, and so on.
Translating book often gives me pleasure, apart from financial matters I feel happy and proud to be able to translate the book Theatre of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although now the script is tossed around his fate) because I believe this will be very beneficial for “my big family” in the world of theater.
Finally, I also had time to get acquainted with international translation via the Internet. The world that I had previously thought of as a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting as well. My acquaintance with translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. In it, I met many "beings" with various kinds of temperaments and "magic". Eventually, I knew I would never regret going into this jungle. As Robert Frost said:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Becoming a translator actually presents many kinds of challenges I find enticing. I must struggle to “acquaint myself with” words and “resist” language deficiency. These “acquaintance” dan “resistance” paradoxes must sometimes be overcome by a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we must choose some word options to eventually opt for the one we consider the best. Sometimes we must create them. Sometimes we must lie by only grasping the meaning or nuance. However, as with art, supposed to be a sacred lie, translation works sometimes must also be guileful to show their purity. Is not Bhishma also Pure? Is not Sita also pure thus she was willing to undergo a trial by fire? I have experienced this sort of thing when translating a book by Deepak Chopra (I do not know why it has not been published until now) containing spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafiz, and the like. It is also the case when I translated Hemingway’s drama script and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie if I translated a Spanish who stammers when speaking English into a Dutch who stutters when speaking Indonesian. Is it also not a lie translating the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche philosophy) which is translated into Superman in English, although both of them have a different nuance of meaning. Even if I eventually chose to translate it into Adimanusia, I was still unsure if such a word truly accommodate the concept desired by Nietzsche. Meanwhile, I had experience in overcoming language deficiency especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we must give up in order to avoid confusion. When I translated the word know in social philosophy, I finally had to differentiate when this word means: to be familiar with someone/something, to have information, to understand, and so on.

Translating a book often brings me its own pleasure, beyond financial matters. I feel happy and proud that I could translate the Theatre of the Absurd by Martin Esslin (although the fate of the script is now undecided), because I am sure this will be extremely beneficial to “my extended family” in the theater realm.

In the end, I also had the opportunity to be acquainted with international translation through the Internet. The realm I used to consider a quiet jungle of words is actually exciting. My introduction to translation portals on the Internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. There, I found many “beings” with all kinds of characters and “superpowers”. I finally know that I will never regret entering this jungle. Like Robert Frost said:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator has many challenges that is fascinating to me. I have to challenge of "get to know" words and "fight" the misery of language. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be overcome into a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose from a myriad of words to finally arrive at the one we consider is the best. Sometimes we have to invent them. Occasionally we have to lie by only capturing the meaning or nuance. That just like art, which people say is a prevaricate, translation seldomly has to betray itself to show its sanctity. And isn't Bisma also holy? Isn't Sita also holy that she is willing to be burnt by fire? I have experienced this when translating Deepak Chopra's book (for some reason it has not been published yet) which contains spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafiz and the like. Similarly, when translating Hemingway's play and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, would it not be a lie to translate a Spanish person speaking broken English, and then translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? It is also not a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) as Superman in English, even though both have different meanings. Even if I finally choose to translate it into Adimanusia, I am still not sure that the word truly embodies the concept that Nietzsche intended. Meanwhile, I experienced language poverty especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translated the word know in social philosophy, I finally had to sort out when this word means: to know, to know, to understand and so on.

Translating books often gives me pleasure beyond the financial side of things. I am happy and proud to have translated Martin Esslin's Theatre of the Absurd (even though the manuscript is now in limbo), because I believe it will be of great benefit to my "extended family" in the theatre world.

Finally, I was introduced to international translation via the internet. The world that I had previously thought of as a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting too.... My introduction to translation portals on the internet has made me realise that I am not alone in this jungle. In it I met many "creatures" with various temperaments and "powers". Finally, I know that I will never regret entering this jungle. As Robert Frost said:

I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator turns out to have various enchanting challenges for me. I have to strive to "befriend" words and "resist" language poverty. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be overcome with a lie, especially when translating literary works. At times, we have to choose among several word options and ultimately arrive at what we deem the best. Sometimes, we have to create it. Occasionally, we have to lie by merely capturing the meaning or nuances. Yet, like art, which people say is a sacred lie, translation works must also sometimes betray to demonstrate their sanctity. Isn't Bisma also sacred? Isn't Sinta also sacred, even willing to be burned by fire? I experienced something like this when translating a book by Deepak Chopra (which, for some reason, has not been published yet) containing spiritual poems by Rumi, Hafiz, and the like. The same happened when translating Hemingway's drama manuscript and collection of short stories, "The Fifth Column." For instance, wouldn't it be a lie to translate a Spanish-speaking Englishman as a Dutchman struggling with Indonesian? Would it not also be a lie to translate "Ubermensch" (in Nietzsche's philosophy) as "Superman" in English, even though they have different connotations? Even if I chose to translate it as "Adimanusia" (Overman), I am still uncertain whether the word truly embodies Nietzsche's intended concept. As for overcoming language poverty, I mostly encounter it when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to surrender to avoid confusion in thought. When I translate the word "know" in social philosophy, I eventually have to discern when it means "recognize," "comprehend," "understand," and so on.

Translating books often gives me a unique pleasure, beyond financial matters. I feel happy and proud to be able to translate Martin Esslin's book, "Theatre of the Absurd" (even though its fate is now uncertain), because I believe it will be very beneficial for "my extended family" in the world of theater.

Finally, I had the opportunity to get to know international translation through the internet. The world I previously thought was a quiet wilderness of words turns out to be fascinating as well. My introduction to translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this wilderness. In it, I meet many "beings" with various personalities and "powers." Finally, I know I will never regret entering this wilderness. As Robert Frost said:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator, as it turns out, has brought my way various challenges I found to be fascinating. I have to do my best "becoming intimate" with words and "resisting" against language deficiency. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be resolved through the use of deception, specifically when it comes to translating literature. Now and again, we need to swim through a vast ocean of words to finally reach one that we think is best. At times, we have to make one up. Every now and then, we resort to deceit by only capturing the essence or nuance of a word. But just like art, which is thought to be a sacred lie, a work of translation, too, can sometimes be subject to treachery in order to unveil its holiness. And isn't Bhisma a sacred one as well? Didn't Shinta prove her purity by setting herself on fire? I have experienced it when translating a book by Deepak Chopra (I've got no idea why it has yet to be released) that contains spiritual poems by Rumi and Hafiz, among others. As was the case when I translated "The Fifth Column", a play script and an anthology of short stories by Hemingway. For example, is it not considered deceit to translate a Spanish person speaking broken English as a Dutch person speaking Bahasa Indonesia poorly? Is it not deceit either to translate the word "Ubermensch" (in the philosophy of Nietzsche) into English as "Superman" when the two words have different nuances? Even after I decided to translate it into Bahasa Indonesia as "Adimanusia", I am still unsure whether that word fully encompasses the concept Nietzsche intended. Whereas I have dealt with language deficiency, it has been specifically when translating philosophy texts. There are times where we ought to give in to avoid ambiguity. When translating the word "know" in the context of social philosophy, I had to make a distinction between different meanings, such as "to recognize", "to have knowledge of", "to understand", and so on.

Translating a book, more often than not, brings me such pleasure beyond the financial gains it comes with. I was filled with pride and joy translating "Theatre of the Absurd", a book by Martin Esslin (even though the manuscript is currently stuck in limbo), for I am sure it would be very useful for "my extended family" in the theatre community.

Finally, I had the chance to connect with the international translator community via the internet. A world that I initially thought was a silent jungle turned out to be fun... My encounter with online translation portals made me realize that I was not alone in this jungle. It was there that I got to meet with a plethora of "peculiar ones" with their unique characters and "superpowers". At the end of the day, I knew I would never regret venturing into this jungle. Just as Robert Frost once said,

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

For me, being a translator is a fascinating challenge. It is a struggle to “become familiar” with words and “battle” a language’s lack of words. Sometimes this paradox of “familiarization” and “battle” must be solved with a lie, especially when translating a literary work. Sometimes we have to choose between so many choices and in the end arrive at what we consider as the best. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie and just grasp its meaning or nuances. However, like art, which according to (some) people is a sacred lie, a translation becomes a lie to show the truth. Wasn’t Bisma holy? Wasn’t Sinta also holy and wiling to submit to the trial of fire? I experienced this when I translated a book by Deepak Chopra (don’t know why it has not been published yet) which contained spiritual poetry by Rumi, Hafiz and other similar authors. This also happened when I translated a drama and compilation of short stories by Hemingway, The Fifth Column. For example, isn’t it a lie to translate a Spaniard speaking broken English as a Dutch person stuttering in Indonesian. Isn’t it a lie to translate Ubermensch (in Nietzsche’s philosophy) which in English is translated as Superman, although both have different nuances of meaning? If in the end I chose to translate it as “Adimanusia, I am still not sure that this word really encompasses the concept that Nietzsche wanted. Meanwhile, the experience of having to overcome a language’s lack of words mostly occurred when translating philosophy texts. There are times when we have to just give up to avoid confusion of thought. When translating the word ‘know’ in social philosophy, I had to decide when the word means: being familiar with, knowing, understanding, and so on.

Often, translating books becomes a pleasure for me, apart from financial matters. I felt happy and proud to be able to translate Theatre of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although until now the manuscript’s fate is still uncertain), because I am convinced that this would be very useful for “my big family” in the theater world.

I got to know international translation through the internet. The world which I previously thought was a silent jungle devoid of words proved to be quite fascinating. Getting to know the various translation portals on the internet made me realize that I was not alone in this jungle. There I met many “creatures” with their various characters and quirkiness. And I never regretted having entered this jungle. As Robert Frost said: I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator turns out to have various kinds of challenge that are so fascinating to me. I have to struggle to "familiarize" words and "fight" language poverty. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be surmounted by it becoming a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose from so many choices of words to finally arrive at what we think is the best. Sometimes we have to invent it. Sometimes we have to lie by only capturing the meaning or nuance. But just like art, which people say is a holy lie, translation works sometimes have to betray to show their sanctity. And isn't Bisma also Holy? Isn't Sinta also holy to the point of willingly be burned by fire? I experienced something like this when translating Deepak Chopra's book (for some reason it hasn't been published yet) which contains the spiritual poetry of Rumi, Hafiz and the like. Likewise, when translating Hemingway's play and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie to translate a Spaniard with stammering English, and then I translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? Is it not a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) which is translated into English as Superman, even though the two have different nuances of meaning. Even if I finally choose to translate it as Superhuman, I'm still not sure that the word really embodies the concept that Nietzsche wanted. Meanwhile, I got the experience of overcoming language poverty especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give in to avoid confusion of thought. When I was translating the word “know” in social philosophy, eventually I had to sort out the meanings of this word : to be acquainted with, to have the knowledge of, to understand, and so on.

Translating books often gives me a certain pleasure, apart from financial matters. I feel happy and proud to be able to translate the book Theater of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although now the script is in a state of flux), because I believe this will be very beneficial for "my extended family" in the theater world.

Lastly, I also had time to get acquainted with international translation via the internet. The world that I previously thought was a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting too. My acquaintance with translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. I met many "creatures" with various temperaments and "magic powers" in it. In the end, I know I will never regret going into this jungle.

As Robert Frost says: I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Becoming a translator comes with its own set of challenges that I find fascinating. I am obliged to “familiarize” myself with terms and “conquer” the inadequacy of language. Addressing this “familiarity” and “conquest” paradox however could sometimes end up in unfaithfulness, especially when it comes to literature translations.

At times, we come up with a long list of words until we narrow it down to the best one. We need to occasionally invent a new word. Sometimes we even end up not being faithful to the source material by resorting to apprehending its definition or its tone. Much like art, however, a translation work occasionally needs to stray away from faithfulness to exhibit its honor. Is Bhisma not honorable? Is Sita not innocent so that she let herself engulfed in flame?

I have never come across this issue when translating the work of Deepak Chopra (which has not seen the light of day) consisting of spiritual poems from Rumi, Hafiz, and the likes; also not when translating The Fifth Column, a screenplay and short stories anthology by Ernest Hemingway. Does it not count as unfaithful if I translate a Spaniard speaking broken English as a Dutchman speaking broken Indonesian? The same question arises if Ubermensch (from Nietzsche´s philosophy) is somehow translated in English as Superman even though both words carry completely different air. Even if I decide to translate Ubermensch as Superhuman, I am still not convinced the word would flawlessly convey the concept as what Nietzsche had intended. Meanwhile, the inadequacy of language becomes an issue especially when I am translating philosophical texts. Now and again, we need to take it easy to not fall into ambiguity. Translating “know” in social philosophy compels me to sort out when this word means associate, be familiar with, understand, and the list goes on.

What gives me great satisfaction is translating books, besides financial matters. I feel delighted and satisfied having translated Theatre of Absurd by Martin Esslin (even though it is now in limbo) because I know it would become beneficial for “my big family” in the theater world.

Eventually, I have gotten to know the international translation world through the internet. What I had once imagined as a silent words jungle turned out to be exciting. Online translation portals have made me aware that I am not alone in the said jungle. I came across a wide array of “beings” with diverse traits and “powers”. At the end of the day, I know I would never regret this decision. Like what Robert Frost said:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Being a translator does have different sorts of challenges that are enchanting to me. I have to rumble in my mind to "get familiar" with words and "confront" linguistic poverty. The paradox of "intimacy" and "incompatibility" sometimes needs to be dealt with to become a "lie", especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we need to choose a certain diction to finally get into what we consider best. Sometimes we need to create it. Sometimes we need to "lie" by only catching the meaning or the nuance.

But just like art, which people say is a "sacred lie", translation works sometimes must be disloyal to show their "sacredness." And isn’t Bisma also divinely Sacred? Isn’t Shinta also divinely sacred so that she is willing to be burned by fire? Such experiences also happened when I was translating Deepak Chopra’s book (no idea why it has not been published yet) which contains the spiritual poetry of Rumi, Hafiz, and the authors alike. Likewise when translating Hemingway’s play scripts and short story collections, The Fifth Column. For example, isn’t it dishonest to translate a stammered-English speaker of a Spainiard and then translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? Isn’t it dishonest to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche philosophy) which is translated into English as Superman? While both of them have different nuances of meaning. Whilst at the end I chose to localize it as Adimanusia, I was still unsure that the word really encapsulates the concept meant by Nietzsche. Meanwhile, I had the experience dealing with linguistic poverty especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we must give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translate the word 'know' in social philosophy, I finally need to sort out when the word means 'to know,' 'to get familiar,' 'to understand,' etc.

Translating books often gives me an own-enjoyment apart from financial matters. I was proud and joyful to be able to translate the book Theater of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although the script is in a state of flux), because I believe this will be much beneficial for "my big family" in the theater world.

Finally, I also had time to get acquainted with international translations through the Internet. The world that I thought before was a "silent jungle" of words turned out to be exciting too. My acquaintance with translation portals on the Internet realized me that I am not alone in the "jungle." I met many "creatures" there with different treats and "magical powers." I knew in the end that I will never regret diving into the "jungle," as Robert Frost says:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Note: Historical figures in the folklore is Bisma and Shinta (instead of Sinta)

Being a translator turns out to have various kinds of challenges that are so fascinating to me. I have to struggle to "familiarize" with words and "fight" language poverty. This paradox of "intimacy" and "resistance" sometimes has to be overcome to become a lie, especially when translating literary works. Sometimes we have to choose so many choices of words to finally arrive at what we think is the best. Sometimes we have to create it. Sometimes we have to lie by only capturing the meaning or nuance. But just like art, which people say is a holy lie, translation works sometimes have to betray to show their sanctity. And isn't Bisma also Holy? Isn't Sinta also holy to be willing to be burned by fire? I experienced something like this when translating Deepak Chopra's book (for some reason it hasn't been published yet) which contains the spiritual poetry of Rumi, Hafiz and the like. Likewise when translating Hemingway's play and short story collection, The Fifth Column. For example, is it not a lie to translate a Spaniard with stammering English, and then I translate it like a Dutchman who stutters in Indonesian? Is it not a lie to translate the word Ubermensch (in Nietzsche's philosophy) which is translated into English as Superman, even though the two have different nuances of meaning. Even if I finally choose to translate it into Superhuman, I'm still not sure that the word really embodies the concept that Nietzsche wants. Meanwhile, I experienced the experience of overcoming language poverty, especially when translating philosophical texts. There are times when we have to give up to avoid confusion of thought. When I translate the word know in social philosophy, finally I have to sort out when this word means: to know, to know, to understand and so on.

Translating books often gives me pleasure, apart from financial matters. I feel happy and proud to be able to translate the book Theater of Absurd by Martin Esslin (although now the script is in a state of flux), because I believe this will be very beneficial for "my extended family" in the theater world.

Finally, I also had time to get acquainted with international translation via the internet. The world that I previously thought was a silent jungle of words turned out to be exciting too. My acquaintance with translation portals on the internet has made me realize that I am not alone in this jungle. In it I met many "creatures" with various temperaments and "magic powers". Finally I know I will never regret going into this jungle. As Robert Frost says:

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.