Thanks to translators, people speaking different languages can share cultural works from all over the world. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as absolute equivalence in translation. Something is lost when east meets west.
Personally I don’t like reading the Chinese version of books written in western languages, especially fictions. Just look at the names: they are so confusing and sometimes like a tongue twister! Not every name is as short as Harry Potter; we still have Aphrodite and Achilles. To translate, Aphrodite takes five Chinese charters, one of which unknown to me. So I gave up and began to learn English.
Translation of movies can be more amusing. When the dubbed version of award winning TV series Desperate Housewives was first broadcast on CCTV, it ignited heated discussion. The dubbing itself had become a comedy. Speaking Chinese with an American accent is not art, but parody. Therefore I never watch dubbed films, though my knowledge of French barely extends beyond “bonjour” and “au revoir”, nor do I know a single German word.
As for fine arts, it’s a unique language without national boundaries. Painting is a feast for the eyes and music a gala for the ears. Any attempt of interpretation may become profanity.
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