Kate Briggs writes in This Little Art  (a lyrical essay about translation and its nature as a personal, relational art)  that sometimes our misinterpretation/misunderstandings of text mean more to us than what they “actually” mean or say.

there is a fragment of “The last rose of summer” which (in Britten’s arrangement) I first registered as “The lovely are the sleeping” (the second “the” is extraneous). this misunderstanding has since been cleared but I must say I prefer my distortion.