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But doing the simultaneous translation of his talk about poetic language was not easy. He started off phrase by phrase, so that I could readily provide an adequate English rendering. But as he became more enthusiastic about what he was saying, there were quite long speeches to be rendered, and I found myself making frantic notes around the edges of the only small piece of paper I happened to have with me, to be able to give a version of what he had been saying for some minutes about different matters, such as the differences of scientific terminology in French, German and English and their bearing upon poetic diction. (‘Wasserstoff’, for hydrogen, was among numerous potential reefs.)
It was OK. Some of those attending assumed that I must have received a text in advance to prepare a translation. But there was no such text at all. I enjoyed the experience, and did my best, but felt tired afterwards. I do not recall or did not notice any serious blunder such as I had made with Theodorakis. I thought that from time to time at least I had perhaps given a sufficiently stylish and faithful rendering of the great man’s thoughts, though it was far from being word-for-word, and very far from being impeccable. We had a good and congenial francophone meal after that. The food was Chinese. Then I went to bed.