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In September 2021, Elvis Costello released Spanish Model, a new version of his iconic album This Year’s Model. The new release uses the original master tapes from the 1978 recording for all but the lead vocal tracks, which are replaced with Spanish-language renditions by various translators and performers. The artists on this project faced a very high level of formal constraint: the rhythm of the translated lyrics had to match the originals beat for beat, and the vocal delivery had to be precisely in time and compatible with the instrumental accompaniment by Elvis Costello and the Attractions.

In the same year, Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s film “Drive My Car” featured a deeply affecting speech performed in Korean Sign Language, as part of a scene from a multilingual performance of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. This represents the opposite end of the spectrum of formal constraint from Spanish Model. Chekhov’s prose is translated into a language that uses an entirely different medium from the original: gestures instead of sounds. In this case, the performance and the translation are one. A sign-language translation can meet a high standard of semantic fidelity, but fidelity to the sonic form of the original is beside the point. The acoustic qualities cannot be replicated, though perhaps they can be suggested by analogy.

In Spanish Model, the acoustic qualities, particularly rhythm, are the sine qua non. I will use examples from this album and from Greek and Roman poetry to argue for the intimate fusion—some would say inseparability—of form and meaning, and to make the case for fidelity to the original metrical form in translations of Greek and Latin verse into English. Rhythm and meter are properties that can be transferred more or less directly from one language to another. Full metrical fidelity is not necessarily the best choice for all works or for all translators. But for those who strive to recreate the effects of ancient poetry, attention to sound and rhythm is an excellent starting place.