Paperback/Kindle eBook
King Lear: A Verse Translation
ISBN: 0-9752743-2-5
ISBN-13: 978-0-9752743-2-3
192 pages
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Praise
"If you've been waiting until Shakespeare became more accessible, yet hoping that a modern version would contain all of the complexity of the original, then Richmond's translation provides you an ideal opportunity to jump in and enjoy Shakespeare."
—Boak Ferris, California State University, Long Beach
Two families torn
by jealousy,
ingratitude, and rage
drive a kingdom
to civil war
and madness.
This complete, line-by-line King Lear translation makes the language of Shakespeare's play contemporary while preserving the metrical rhythm, complexity, and poetic qualities of the original.
The aim is to capture both sound and sense of Shakespeare's tragedy without the need for glosses or notes—to use contemporary language without simplifying or modernizing the play in any other way.
Readers experience the brutal downfall of Shakespeare's most dysfunctional family with the comprehension and delight of audiences 400 years ago—the way Shakespeare intended.
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King Lear Translation Excerpt
from Act 1 Scene 2
EDMUND
You, nature, are my goddess. To your law
My services are bound. For why should I
Endure the plague of custom, and thus let
The legal niceties of states deprive me,
Because I trail a brother by some twelve
Or fourteen moons. Why bastard? Why debased?
When my physique is just as well composed,
My mind as noble, and my shape the same
As lawful wives bring forth? Why brand us then
As base? With baseness? Bastardly? Debased?
Don’t we from stealthy acts of natural lust
Receive more character and fiery vigor
Than comes from all the dull, stale, tired beds
That go to make whole tribes of fools conceived
Between the time we sleep and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.
Our father loves the bastard son as much
As the legitimate. Fine word—legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter works,
And if my scheme goes well, Edmund the base
Tops the legitimate. I grow. I prosper.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
At what point does a stage of a language become so different from the modern one as to make translation necessary? Mr. Richmond is brave enough to assert that, for Shakespeare, that time has come. The French have Moliere, the Russians have Chekhov—and now, we can truly say that we have our Shakespeare.”—John McWhorter, Manhattan Institute
