You might consider it tedious to explain, but that the same expression in different languages can somehow mean (or "how it means") differently - as opposed to the traditional way of meaning - is supposed to be the topic of the discussion. If "how it means" cannot be explicated, then what are we discussing? And what are further examples meant to show? It doesn't help that the example cited in the OP is puzzling to all. — Luke

It should be possible to exemplify this within the same language, to better pinpoint what we're talking about. For example, by comparing Shakespeare's original text and the modernized version(s) of it.

Hamlet says of himself that he is a rogue and peasant slave and that he is pigeon-liver'd and lacks gall. Now what is it that is lost or added in translation when we say that he thought of himself as timid, cowardly? What is it that is Shakespearely?

We can see that many words have a cross-language translation relationship like this (L: language, M: meaning, ):

Word in L1
M1
M2
M3

Word in L2
M1
M2
M4

(L2 has a different word to express M3) — baker

We would expect L1 and L2 to contain different words (to express M1, M2, etc.), because they are different languages. Your parenthesis appears to indicate M4 is a "different word" used to express the same meaning as M3, yet you distinguish them as "M3" and "M4" which denotes different meanings.

Hamlet says of himself that he is a rogue and peasant slave and that he is pigeon-liver'd and lacks gall. Now what is it that is lost or added in translation when we say that he thought of himself as timid, cowardly? What is it that is Shakespearely? — baker

Thank you for a better explication here: that "how it means" is related to what "is lost or added in translation". Unfortunately, you don't explain what is lost or added in translation. Are you able to answer the question you posed: what is it that is Shakespearely? Is it anything other than the original (untranslated) style or form of expression?

I'm still unclear on this. Are the different ways of meaning simply different attitudes by the speakers of different languages toward the words/meanings of their respective languages? Or a different attitude towards the signified objects? Or something else? — Luke

I'd say that as bread may be of quite different kinds and have somewhat different uses and roles in the cuisines of Germany and France, that these differences of practice vis a vis bread constitute the differences of intention in how the words 'Brot' and 'pain' embody meaning in their respective cultures.

We would expect L1 and L2 to contain different words (to express M1, M2, etc.), because they are different languages. Your parenthesis appears to indicate M4 is a "different word" used to express the same meaning as M3, yet you distinguish them as "M3" and "M4" which denotes different meanings. — Luke

No, the scheme is supposed to mean that a word in one language has a group of meanings and a word in another language has a different group of meanings, and that the two groups partly overlap (see discussion with ).

Thank you for a better explication here: that "how it means" is related to what "is lost or added in translation". Unfortunately, you don't explain what is lost or added in translation. Are you able to answer the question you posed: what is it that is Shakespearely? Is it anything other than the original (untranslated) style or form of expression?

I speak several languages, so I can think of many practical examples. But I can't quite pinpoint yet what the phenomenon at hand is. I need to think abou tthis some more.

Style or form of expression are also meaningful, relevant to meaning, otherwise they wouldn't exist.

The fact is that most, of not all, words in any language are translatable in another. — Harry Hindu

In a decidedly Procrustean way. And sometimes that's enough, and sometimes not. For meaning, not.

Consider. When first learning, e.g., to read a language, each word must somehow be turned into an English word (assuming a native English speaker learning a different language). In a real sense, then, the other language is just a code for English. With practice, the reader requires less and less to translate the words, and accustoms him- or herself to reading the language directly. In time and with enough experience the reader becomes comfortable reading and understanding his new language by itself. But, if now asked to translate into English, might well have some trouble doing it. And this because the English field of meaning surrounding every word, including denotation and connotation, and puns, rhymes, echoes of other meanings & etc., has migrated to the field of meaning of the language he's reading.

A Venn diagram approach may illustrate. Two words in different languages cannot be expected to overlap perfectly in meaning. Translation may indeed preserve the overlapping parts of the respective definitions, but the word itself is co-opted into, in this case, English, and it's own meanings lost. Learning to read that language means restoring to that foreign word it's own field of meaning, recovering its foreignness. The reader having finally started to learn another language.

Two words in different languages cannot be expected to overlap perfectly in meaning. — tim wood

And behind the words, which constitute conceptual boundaries, is an unbroken continuum of meaning which is common to all languages.

It’s like color, the various shades of which are laid out on a continuous unbroken spectrum. But the eye must break this continuity up into many different segments in order to comprehend it, for the colors are really infinite in number. We must set artificial boundaries between the various colors, therefore, in order to recognize them. Different ppl however set these boundaries at different places along the spectrum, and what looks red to me therefore often appears orange to someone else.

Likewise, regarding language, words are each language’s effort to impose boundaries of discrete meaning upon a continuous unbroken universal conceptual spectrum...

...for example, consider the English phrase, “a coat of paint”. In translating the same concept literally from another language into English I might write “a skin of paint”, or, “a film of paint”, or, “a layer of paint”, etc, depending on the source language’s idiom. The common area of the conceptual spectrum upon which all these different words intersect is that of a “covering”, but they also branch in different directions to include areas of the spectrum outside that one...

...so “coat” subsumes also “hide”, and “mantle” or “cloak”, as “film” does “motion picture”, and “layer” may generally mean “stratum”...

...but whatever idiom a ppl use to describe in their language what the English call a “coat” of paint, all understand it to be the same thing, have the same ontology, display the same characteristics. Furthermore I would suggest that, were I reading in English what I knew to be a literal translation, and should I encounter a phrase such as “a skin of paint” or “a film of paint”, I would instantly know what was meant, even if the phrase “coat of paint” didn't occur to my mind...

...and if it didn’t, what would that mean? It would indicate to me that I had succeeded in immersing myself in the original language by means of literal translation into my own.

Literal translation may be clunky; it may be confusing; it may even be misleading (footnotes, however, can be employed to clear this up), but the one great advantage it has over looser translations is that the judgement of the translator is largely removed; and, if the reader is willing to as though retranslate his native language into the source one through the translation, he can almost as though read the original through his native tongue.

This is particularly important for the contemporary student of philosophy, who cannot be expected to be familiar with the several languages in which the heritage of philosophy resides, and who is therefore prone to depend upon translations which are largely interpretive. Several key terms down through the tradition, which were faithfully translated throughout it, have been obscured in modern translations...

...one of these is Greek psyche, Roman animus, English soul: a contemporary translator of Greek or Latin might choose “self” to translate these words, but the self is a construct of modern philosophy, which broke from and attempted to supersede ancient philosophy. So what is accomplished by the translator in this instance other than to obscure an ancient concept under the guise of being up-to-date?

Reading literal translations of ancient literature has the salutary effect on the reader of making him want to learn to read the original languages. Reading interpretive modern translations however encourages nothing but adherence to the status quo. Behind such translations is the notion of progress: that we know better now than they did way back then. Why then bother to translate the ancients at all? Why not just forget them and move on?

I'd say that as bread may be of quite different kinds and have somewhat different uses and roles in the cuisines of Germany and France, that these differences of practice vis a vis bread constitute the differences of intention in how the words 'Brot' and 'pain' embody meaning in their respective cultures. — Janus

This seems about right, I think. It sounds as though the French and the Germans have intended to distinguish their national breads from each other to make them as distinct or as different as possible. But I'd imagine they would still consider each other's bread as a type of bread. So it remains unclear what this has to do with the meaning of words.

No, the scheme is supposed to mean that a word in one language has a group of meanings and a word in another language has a different group of meanings, and that the two groups partly overlap (see discussion with ↪Harry Hindu
). — baker

Your distinction between mother and mati indicates that you were talking about one word from each language with the same meaning, but that those words may have other meanings in their respective languages that are not shared by the two languages. I suppose this could be relevant where non-literal or double meanings are possible, such as double entendre, but I don't think this is what the article or the OP is talking about.

/.../but I don't think this is what the article or the OP is talking about. — Luke

What do you think it is talking about?

What do you think it is talking about? — baker

That's what I've been trying to figure out. Possibly what Janus said. But I doubt it is to do with translation of homophones.

I keep thinking about this topic as I dig in the garden and pull weeds ...

An example:

"Life is not a game of luck. If you want to win, work hard."

A saying that can be found in popular self-help literature, which also happens to be a genre that is widely popular and widely translated. So translation issues occur.*

In my native language, a Slavic one, we have no word that would have the same cluster of meanings as the English win. (To the best of my knowledge, neither does German.)
So how can I translate this motivational saying into my native language, while 1. preserving its original meaning, and 2. still keeping it short and succint enough to be a motivational saying in my native language?

I ask myself why the author of that sentence used win, and not succeed, or prevail. Did he intend a double entendre or not? The English win can be used in a wide spectrum of meanings: it can be used in the context of luck, in the context of competition or conflict, and generally in the context of making an effort. For each of those contexts, I would need to use a different word in my native language, but this way possibly losing the originally intended meaning.


*American self-help texts can sound stilted, unnatural, clumsy in translation. While some of this can be attributed to an insuficiently trained translator, some of the problems are definitely due to the major cultural differences.

Another example: emotional rollercoaster. This phrase implies that Americans view emotions as a dangerous, fast, up and down movement or process. We have no such notion, and no verbal equivalent.

In the essay in the OP, Benjamin talks about translating Dichtung. A word that has no English equivalent.

This seems about right, I think. It sounds as though the French and the Germans have intended to distinguish their national breads from each other to make them as distinct or as different as possible. But I'd imagine they would still consider each other's bread as a type of bread. So it remains unclear what this has to do with the meaning of words. — Luke

Yes 'brot' or 'pain' both refer to bread, otherwise what would we be talking about?

This difference in the way of meaning permits the word Brot to mean something other to a German than what the word pain means to a Frenchman, so that these words are not interchangeable for them; in fact, they strive to exclude each other. As to what is meant, however, the two words signify the very same thing". — StreetlightX

This just reads like a contradiction to me. Either it means the same thing because it signifies the same thing or Brot and pain mean different things because Germans and French use them differently because it signifies other things to them.

If this is about the observation that French bread is decidedly different from German bread and that therefore a French person with no knowledge of other types of bread understands pain only to signify French bread then I'm not sure what is new here.

Disclaimer: I don't know shit about the philosophy of language.