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I don't know if it's the poet in me, but I get a kick out of the gems to be found amid pages of poor translations. Poor translations don't always make for a bad read. Sometimes they're downright hilarious. And sometimes there are moments of poetry in there.
As I've edited (rewritten every sentence) Altai's book I've kept a list of my favorite translation bloopers. Some of them are evocative, and perhaps even right-on in their own way: raiding a book instead of reading it. Raking one's brain instead of racking it. Yarning instead of yawning. Dreaming of Fraid instead of Freud. Flowing from Berlin to Ulaanbaatar instead of flying there. Answering the greets of a stranger.

And most of all, the ferry-tale, which, I imagine, like a fairy-tale, ferries you off somewhere else for a time.