Writing is a lonely endeavor, isolating myself from other people and looking inwards to explore my emotions and how to externalize them via language.
But translating is always a joint effort, where another poet and myself get to duel it out on the keyboard and come to an agreement. Afterwards, I carry a bit of them around for a few days or weeks, as their words repeat in my head.
Frank Hinton talks about how she must read extensively before even daring to produce her own writing. Likewise, I feel any of my own writing has been born of the works I translate. And that is just fine with me.