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Old text, written with words that you need to read scholars to understand--and they were largely guessing by the time exegesis came to be written down. Borrowings from a trader's koine, probably. Often poetry.
With poetry comes difficulty, as allusions are implicated. You have to start asking if what the writer meant and what the reader understands are of equal worth, and opinions differ. Then you have to ask if all the possible implications that a reader can draw are implicit in the text, and if they have to be translated. That leads to asking if only the implications that can be construed as present in the text are allowed to be present in the translation. Add post-modernism and deconstruction to the idea of translating the text, with the idea that what's important is what's "in the interstices" and the entire enterprise unravels. And then the truly snarly problem: What about things that are culturally constrained, and where differences in cultural, how you view a past event or a cultural artefact, how social relations are construed and evaluated? Do you go for equivalence, and if so, how? Add postmodernist *cultural* level criticism to it and you're left with a total melt-down, and scholars nod fervently when it's said that the Qur'aan can't be translated. It's vacuous agreement, on entirely different grounds from Qur'aan advocates, but nobody seems to care that the agreement is accidental.
Or that you have the same problems with Cervantes, the Qur'aan, the Book of Psalms, and Russian poets like Pushkin and Ivanov, or even a cleverly written op-ed piece. Same problems, and quirky solutions that vary by translator and reader.
But in addition, the Qur'aan is so encrusted with reverance and layers of deeply believed theology, with every possible meaning of every possible word taken to have deep meaning, that it's become untranslatable, made untranslatable by dicta of the believers. The Qur'aan itself is supposedly very simple text (separated from modern speakers by some shifts in grammatical categories). Having the context for some utterances be unknown or ignored doesn't help, because decontextualized language is often harder to translate than language in situ (hence at least part of the problem with poetry). And when you add all the metaphorical crap that wasn't necessarily intended (except after theologizing everything the adored prophet could have possibly meant or said), there's even an added a layer of difficulty to translation. With some answers to the above questions required: You may omit nothing, and you may add nothing (unless its countenanced by tradition and beliefs, and those vary a bit).
I've seen people do the same with Biblical Hebrew and koine Greek: They focus so much on aspectual differences or other grammatical properties that they claim the language is untranslatable. When it's just issuing orders or providing narrative, it's pretty much translatable. It's when there's extraneous crap added to the text, or when you try torturing the text to get hideously fine-grained subtleties and nuances out of every word and morpheme, that the translations necessarily fail, and you get monstrosities like the paraphrased "Living" Bible. Thing is, the paraphrase--like many scholars' interpretations of the Qur'aan--reflect not so much the original text as the biases and inadequacies and distortions the scholars wanted, needed, or fell into. They usually disregard the fact that the meaning of the text isn't in words, but in sentences and larger structural units. For that you need naive readers, and most of them, with the Qur'aan as the object of their fetishism, turn out to be rather nasty pieces of work.
I once had a translation class in which the instructor--so wedded to modern literature that he couldn't conceive of any other use for language--say that no text was remotely capable of being translated. I pushed him, and he cited others saying that texts, as cultural artefacts, simply were non-translatable--at best you could approximate some aspect of the text's meaning. I asked him a hypothetical. He's in Spain on sabbatical with his wife, who speaks no Spanish. They get a notice that the electricity in their apartment will be cut off at 5 pm the next day unless they pay their bill by noon. Can he translate it not just 'remotely' correctly, but precisely? He said 'of course'. The denotative meaning of the text, the social context, the actions and emotions it evoked, the structure and form corresponded remarkably well between English and Spanish. "So isn't that a case where you can translate not just remotely correctly, but precisely?" "Well, if you want to call that a a 'text', sure, but what's the point?" Ah. "So when you say 'no text is remotely translatable', the first requirement to make the statement true is to rule out all texts that can be precisely translated, and then to choose sample texts that are so complex, decontextualized, metaphorical, and so innovative in their use of language that they trivially prove your point." He stared at me. I was auditing, and didn't go back. I have little use for blithering idiots, even when tenured; had he actually been important in his field, maybe I'd have continued (then he'd be a potentially useful blithering idiot).
So, no, the Qur'aan isn't translatable, at least on the terms set by those form whom it's used as a pedestal to put their faith on. After all, experts who invest decades in understanding it--and teach their followers that it can't be understood by outsiders--are too heavily invested in making it untranslatable. And there are difficulties because it's "holy" and "sacred". To make it translatable would disenfranchise the only primary claim to fame a culture has, wreck an entire industry, and somehow make the mystery that gives millions of lives meaning rather mundane. It happened when the Bible's components were translated into Western vernaculars and given credence; oddly, the Reformation followed not long after. Whether that's significant, can't say.
What's sad is when you see dissertations at western universities where prominent scholars are cowed by iterant preachers masquerading as students. Then you get "linguistics" dissertations asking why the Qur'aan has the best style and form of all texts in all languges, and seek to use modern linguistics to "prove" it, showing that having such and such a preposition used X% of the time is the definition of perfection. And you read claims that it was only by accident that the Qur'aan, which as always existed in its precise linguistic form, just happened to coincide perfectly with the Bedouin-tinged Arabic spoken by the compilers of the Qur'aan in the 7th century. The great men in the field are afraid to say, "You know, that's a pile of partially fermented horse shit, at best, and you really should find a new dissertation topic that doesn't make you seem like a moron." That would be culturally insensitive.
But such dissertating also comports with Arabic linguistic ideology, in which the most conservative sections of society are considered the purist. The dialects most similar to Qur'aanic Arabic are Sa3udi Bedouin, which are among the most socially retrograde (by Western standards), and have been raided for grammatical norms and vocabulary and poetic forms for a thousand years. This confers a kind of sanctity to their social traditions, and accounts for a sad part of Sa3udi thought. That Bedouin dialects are often conservative isn't surprising: There's enough isolation in rural Arabic dialects to preserve some rather striking archaisms, but enough social intercourse between dialects to prevent the kinds of phonological bizarreness that you get in things like Bergun Romansch. Some Bedouin dialects are highly innovating, but since they don't reinforce (and aren't reinforced by) the Qur'aan, they're simply ignored. Well described in the literature, but ignored.
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