Translating: A Never-Ending Task!

One of Zeno's Paradoxes
"Are we there yet?" Zippy the Pinhead
The Sylmar Scribbler

Striving for the perfect translation, like proofreading to eliminate every error, is a never-ending process reminiscent of Zeno's Paradoxes: one gets closer and closer to the aimed-for translation, yet never arrives. Sometime before August 22, 2013, I had worked out what I considered a final version of the following passage in Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil:

The train was running on the steel bridge of Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. Dark water still wore the summer night. As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature.

That sounded pretty good, I thought, but sometime between the crafting of that passage and August 22, 2013, I had second thoughts, as I then admitted to in a blog entry:

For instance, take this part: "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" I'd now be tempted to remove "is": "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Or rewrite these words: "Dark water still wore the summer night." I might now try: "The dark water was still clothed in summer night." I could do much the same with every line. From: "As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." To: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And from: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature." To: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature."

Combining these, along with still other alterations, including small changes in already altered phrases, I had this:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Unfortunately, by the time I turned in this revision, the deadline for editing had passed. I kicked myself mentally for being so tardy! I have since grown more philosophical about the changes, for you will see how my experience begins to recall Zeno's -- and what could be more philosophical than that? -- for I find myself wanting to keep reworking the passage, e.g., "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" And this: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And maybe this: "Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature." These changes provide us with another slightly revised passage:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Is that better or worse? At a certain, albeit uncertain point in such revisions, distinguishing aesthetically among them becomes difficult, if not impossible.