When I work on translations, revising, revising and revising some more, I spend a lot of time thinking about what it means for one text to be "like" another. Resemblances sometimes seem to flip the more you reread, like Wittgenstein's duck-rabbit puzzle.

I've been told by some that my Odyssey translation is more "like" the Greek Homer than others they've read; I know other people don't feel that way. Both are valid responses. To me, it's both like and unlike. There are different likenesses in different portraits/ translations.

In case you haven't read "Philosophical Investigations", I recommend it so much. I love how it's on the cusp between poetry and philosophy, and it's so good on the eternal dilemma, for translators and other writers, of what finding the "right" or "like" words even means.

"How do I find the 'right' word? How do I choose among words? Without doubt it is sometimes as if I were comparing them by fine differences of smell: That is too ....... that is too ....... —this is the right one.—But I do not always have to make judgments, give explanations..

...often I might only say: "It simply isn't right yet". I am dissatisfied, I go on looking. At last a word comes: "That's it!" Sometimes I can say why. This is simply what searching, this is what finding, is like here."

Some equate, "There's more than one valid interpretation" with, "All are equally good; there's no right or wrong, no better or worse". Those are different claims. Even beyond actual mistakes, some interpretations are more perceptive, persuasive or responsible than others.

When I revise, I don't just want to make it clearer, more beautiful, more vivid, more exciting or more heart-breaking (depending on the line or scene). I want to make it more like, whatever that may mean. I don't know what it might mean until I do the work.