Passage
Of the myriad problems facing translators, perhaps the most significant lies in the tension between what a text conveys and the words used to convey it. Strict fidelity to the specific words of a text often fails to capture the full sense of its meaning. Beyond this loss of meaning can also arise a loss of artistry and structural features which often cannot be replicated.For instance, a fully evocative rendering of the 119th Psalm seems unattainable. Comprising twenty-two strophes of eight lines each, the one hundred and seventy-six verses do appear somewhat poetic in translation. But in the original Hebrew the Psalm is an acrostic: the verses of the first strophe all begin with the letter Aleph, those of the second with Beth, and so on, with Tav, the last letter of the alphabet, commencing the final eight verses. The reader of a translation would, understandably, be ignorant of this fact. While this does not affect the essential meaning of the verses, it does affect their character-something is lost from the original in its non-native presentation. Although there have been occasional attempts to mimic this structure in other languages, they have all been unsuccessful. The tortured and unnatural wording that results proves the wisdom of most translators in prioritizing readability. Nevertheless, the Psalmist wrote with a particular purpose that is left untransmitted. The sacrifice of the acrostic, however necessary, is regrettable.Another concern is what might be called translational multiplicity. Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges famously remarked: "The Quixote, due to my congenital practice of Spanish, is a uniform monument, with no other variations… the Odyssey, thanks to my opportune ignorance of Greek, is an international bookstore of works in prose and verse." To speak of "the" Odyssey, or more generally, "the" text of any work, runs headlong into the reality that for translated works, "the text" is not a unitary entity but a collection of candidates. Thus, a perennial difficulty of translation is conveyed through Borges' idiosyncratic presentation. Or is it? For Borges' remarks are elsewhere listed as: "Since Spanish is my native language, the Quixote is to me an unchanging monument, with no possible variations…. But the Odyssey, thanks to my opportune ignorance of Greek, is a library of works in prose and verse." That we might ask which of these translations more closely represents his actual words is a fact that Borges would likely have found amusing.Considerations of this sort are magnified when one approaches the writings not only of individual authors, but of past civilizations. Despite being one of the world's foremost sinologists, the late D. C. Lau was convinced that none of us truly understand classical Chinese. The sentiment was no mere expression of modesty; fellow scholar Roger Ames described Lau as "[h]aving assimilated the classical corpus through a lifetime of careful study and reflection." Rather, Lau was keenly aware of the difficult truth that the fluidity of language and culture over time can shroud the works of the ancients in obscurities that may be inscrutable to even their most passionately curious descendants.Modern works may also be altered, however, and sometimes through more subtle types of translation. The book known as Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in England was changed to refer instead to the "Sorcerer's Stone" in the United States, reportedly due to a belief that the original title would be unpalatable to an American audience. While that depressing assumption may indeed have been correct, the change removes a titular connection to a pre-existing myth. The generic fantasy idea with which it is replaced thus fails to embody the full character of the original work.
-The author seems to imply that Japanese whaling:

Question

Passage
Of the myriad problems facing translators, perhaps the most significant lies in the tension between what a text conveys and the words used to convey it.  Strict fidelity to the specific words of a text often fails to capture the full sense of its meaning.  Beyond this loss of meaning can also arise a loss of artistry and structural features which often cannot be replicated.For instance, a fully evocative rendering of the 119th Psalm seems unattainable.  Comprising twenty-two strophes of eight lines each, the one hundred and seventy-six verses do appear somewhat poetic in translation.  But in the original Hebrew the Psalm is an acrostic: the verses of the first strophe all begin with the letter Aleph, those of the second with Beth, and so on, with Tav, the last letter of the alphabet, commencing the final eight verses.  The reader of a translation would, understandably, be ignorant of this fact.  While this does not affect the essential meaning of the verses, it does affect their character-something is lost from the original in its non-native presentation.  Although there have been occasional attempts to mimic this structure in other languages, they have all been unsuccessful.  The tortured and unnatural wording that results proves the wisdom of most translators in prioritizing readability.  Nevertheless, the Psalmist wrote with a particular purpose that is left untransmitted.  The sacrifice of the acrostic, however necessary, is regrettable.Another concern is what might be called translational multiplicity.  Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges famously remarked: "The Quixote, due to my congenital practice of Spanish, is a uniform monument, with no other variations… the Odyssey, thanks to my opportune ignorance of Greek, is an international bookstore of works in prose and verse."  To speak of "the" Odyssey, or more generally, "the" text of any work, runs headlong into the reality that for translated works, "the text" is not a unitary entity but a collection of candidates.  Thus, a perennial difficulty of translation is conveyed through Borges' idiosyncratic presentation.  Or is it?  For Borges' remarks are elsewhere listed as: "Since Spanish is my native language, the Quixote is to me an unchanging monument, with no possible variations….  But the Odyssey, thanks to my opportune ignorance of Greek, is a library of works in prose and verse."  That we might ask which of these translations more closely represents his actual words is a fact that Borges would likely have found amusing.Considerations of this sort are magnified when one approaches the writings not only of individual authors, but of past civilizations.  Despite being one of the world's foremost sinologists, the late D. C. Lau was convinced that none of us truly understand classical Chinese.  The sentiment was no mere expression of modesty; fellow scholar Roger Ames described Lau as "[h]aving assimilated the classical corpus through a lifetime of careful study and reflection."  Rather, Lau was keenly aware of the difficult truth that the fluidity of language and culture over time can shroud the works of the ancients in obscurities that may be inscrutable to even their most passionately curious descendants.Modern works may also be altered, however, and sometimes through more subtle types of translation.  The book known as Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in England was changed to refer instead to the "Sorcerer's Stone" in the United States, reportedly due to a belief that the original title would be unpalatable to an American audience.  While that depressing assumption may indeed have been correct, the change removes a titular connection to a pre-existing myth.  The generic fantasy idea with which it is replaced thus fails to embody the full character of the original work.
-The author seems to imply that Japanese whaling:

Quizplus · Accepted Answer

According to Paragraph 3, "Japan agreed to stop its commercial whaling" in response to a 1986 ban, but "'immediately announced that it would continue to take hundreds of minke whales each year for "scientific purposes.'" The United States considered this response to constitute "acting in bad faith." For example, Commerce Secretary Norman Y. Mineta wrote: "'Many suspect that Japan's motivation…has less to do with validation of scientific hypotheses and more to do with paving the way for outright resumption of commercial whaling." Paragraph 4 then notes that "the Japanese have their own view of the situation which frames the issue differently." However, the author does not provide any information to suggest that Japan's whaling really is motivated by scientific purposes. Instead, he or she discusses "the significant cultural importance attached to Japanese whaling," and cites Adrian Peace's claim that "'Eating whale meat represents an integral part of how the Japanese locate themselves in a world geared to the destruction of regional differences.'" Accordingly, the author seems to imply that Japanese whaling is not actually motivated by scientific purposes (but rather by cultural ones). (Choice B) According to Paragraph 2, Australia and Japan have been involved in "a decades-long maritime conflict" over whaling, in which "[t]ensions between the two nations rise regularly for a period each year, as Japan's annual whale hunts are confronted by Australian fervor for conservation." However, the author never implies that Japanese whaling is motivated by conflict with Australia; rather, it is Japan's practice of whaling which leads to its conflict with Australia. (Choice C) Paragraph 4 states that "supplies of whale meat enabled Japan to endure the effects of famine in the early twentieth century, as well as food shortages in the waning years of the Second World War." Although this information implies that whaling was important for supplementing Japan's past food supply, the author never implies that it is important to maintaining the present food supply in Japan. (Choice D) Although the author states that "the Japanese have their own view of [whaling] which frames the issue differently" (Paragraph 4), he or she never implies that criticism of Japanese whaling is unjustified.

Passage Of the Myriad Problems Facing Translators, Perhaps the Most Significant