Showing posts with label translations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label translations. Show all posts

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Jacques Brel - "Le Moribond": or, lost in translation





Goodbye Emilio I like you very much
Goodbye Emilio I like you very much you know
We have sung about the same wine
We have sung of the same women
We have sung about the same miseries

Goodbye Emile I am going to die
It is hard to die in the springtime you know
But I leave the flowers and peace in my soul
And because I know you are as good as white bread
I know that you will take care of my wife




Chorus:

I want them to laugh, I want them to dance
I want them to have fun like crazy people
I want them to laugh I want them to dance
To amuse themselves like crazy when they put me in the hole




Goodbye priest I like you very much
Goodbye priest I like you very well you know
We did not always agree about views and we were not on the same path
But we were searching for the same port
Goodbye priest I am going to die
It is hard to die in the spring you know
I leave the flowers and the beauty, peace in my soul
And knowing that you are her confidant
I know that you will take care of my wife




Goodbye Antoine I did not like you very much
Goodbye Antwon I do not like you very much you know
And it’s killing me to die today knowing that you are still so alive
And yet still as solid as boredom
Goodbye Antoine I’m going to die
It’s hard to die in the spring you know
I leave the flowers and the beautiful peace in my soul
And because I know that you were her lover
I know that you will take care of my wife




Chorus

Goodbye my wife I love you very much
Goodbye my wife I love you very much you know
I must take the train for the good God
I’m taking the train that leaves before yours
But we all must take the trains that we can
Goodbye my wife I’m going to die
It is hard to die in the springtime you know
But I’m leaving flowers and my eyes are shut, my wife
And because I realize that they were shut often
I know that you will take care of my soul





"Seasons In The Sun"
(originally by Jacques Brel)

Goodbye to you my trusted friend
We've known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we've climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and ABCs
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees




Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I'll be there

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed
Were just seasons out of time




Goodbye papa, please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along

Goodbye papa, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them, I'll be there




We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song
Like the seasons, have all gone

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song
Like the seasons, have all gone

Goodbye Michelle, my little one
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground




Goodbye Michelle, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach




We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song
Like the seasons, have all gone

All our lives we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed
Were just seasons out of time

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun


Wednesday, November 2, 2011

What? HWAET!




Oh Lor', here comes anodder one-o-dem lessons she loyks to gie' us which is mos'ly opinion. If you've been following this long choo-choo train of thought which started with Dennis Potter's landmark TV series The Singing Detective, I've been exploring English dialects, and now find myself at the mother lode: Beowulf, which scholars tell us (and they're lying) is the first great poetic work of the English language.





English language, you say? Just look at the cauldron of oatmeal you see below (way, way below: I somehow had a lot to say today). It's so garbled and Germanic, I only included a tiny snippet. The first "word", hwaet, which really should be followed by an exclamation mark (if such things existed then), was once demonstrated to me by an English professor. He walked into the classroom, stood at the front of the babble, and said, in a resonant English-teacher voice and with the greatest of authority:

"HWAET!"
The room stopped dead.








He pronounced it more like waat. Like two boards, long pieces of wood slapping together. It worked. This little syllable is remarkable, because it can mean so many different things:

"Come and listen to my story 'bout a man named (Beowulf)".


"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale. . . "

"Ahhhhhhh, shaa-daaaaaaaaap!"





It means pay attention, listen. It means, as an informal speaker might say, "So." Or "Anyway." "Right." "As I was saying. . . " "Listen up." "OK then. . ." (except much more dramatic: how many of these Old English bro's really understood literature?).

I won't even try to get into Beowulf, it's too long and impenetrable even translated into "normal" English. I took a Chaucer course years ago and it was fascinating, mainly because the prof was fluent in Middle English and recited Canterbury Tales in a gusty, careening voice that somehow made it understandable. For all that, I guiltily bought a line-by-line translation, Middle English on left, "normal" on right, in order to pass the course.






As you can tell, I'm more fascinated than proficient in the study of language. Sometimes just the thought of it, the very thought of it, gives me the shivers. I've also made a semi-formal study of anthropology at university level, and one of the subjects that comes up repeatedly is the development of language. More so than tool-making or even planting crops, it marks the threshhold we crossed into becoming fully human.






Here's what I larr'nd. There were many hominid strains (humanoid, in anthro jargon), many of which died out under plague or warfare. There were so few people (or near-people) in the band, it wouldn't take much. Evolutionary dead ends. But how many of them developed language, and what did it sound like?







Why does every human culture invent language, and how does that come about?

What was the first word? The first sentence? What did early hominid/humanoids feel compelled to name? Did they name themselves first?







Early anthropology texts assumed language developed to aid men in communication during the hunt. No mention was ever made of the inconsequential task of bearing and raising children, not to mention gathering food for meat shortages (hunter-gatherers, remember?). And the meat shortages could go on for months, even longer. Would humanity even be here without all those nuts and berries?

And you know what it's like when a bunch of women get together, my God! The jabbering never stops.






Maybe language developed to break up fights between the men. Come on, you guys! Can't we all just get along? And Leonard, get away from Penny once and for all.

Somehow or other, and this is the part that eeries me out, some upright-standing apes, not much more evolved than gorillas or chimps except for their opposable thumbs, began to grunt and yell in a meaningful way. Maybe it started out with a call, a "hey! Look over there, Hairy-butt, an antelope." (Or was it hwaet?).






Maybe it was "no, I don't have stretch marks, but my boobs are getting huge," or "Get off me, Hairy, I have my period."

Or, "Hey, Gronkette, let's go out and save humanity by gathering a few nuts."

So slowly, or maybe not so slowly because I believe evolution happened in bursts (a theory known as "punctuated equilibrium"), language evolved, and it was probably different in each little pocket of humanity that was bumping along the rocky road of evolution. I don't believe anyone was thinking in terms of tablets or apps or whatever-the-fuck they are (I'm hopelessly behind here), just surviving day by day, trying to get their basic needs met.






It was a long, long way from grunts and gossip to hwaet, and it's been a longer way, it seems, to the murdered grammar and twisted syntax I've sometimes analyzed on this blog. The language is being shredded, devalued, and slowly but surely, school kids are less and less aware of the cultural deeps they come from. Who will teach them references to the Bible (too archaic) or Chaucer (too weird), or even J. Alfred Prufrock or Howl? It's all going away. In its place will be the lols, WTFs, tweets and twats, and other mindless verbal monstrosities that drove me away from Facebook, probably forever.

Oh OK then, I'll shut up, and here is a snippet from this Beowulf, if for no other reason than to show you how many different ways a few lines of literature can be interpreted. NOW do you see where human misunderstandings come from?








Beowulf, the great Anglo-Saxon epic poem by an unknown author, was composed some time between the 8th and the 11th centuries. The text exists in only one manuscript which dates from about the year 1000. The poem was largely unknown until the first printed versions of the poem were published at the end of the eighteenth century. Soon, short English translations of various parts of the poem began to appear, and within a few decades, in 1833, the first full-length English translation was published.

Since Beowulf is written in Old English, the earliest known form of the English language, one might assume that it would be easy to translate, at least easier than works printed in languages more substantially different from modern English. Yet looking at the many translations of Beowulf that are available in bookstores and libraries, it's immediately apparent that they have important differences in language, form, and style. This immediately raises the questions: Why are these translations so different? And how can I decide which, if any, is the "best" to read?

To begin answering these questions, let's look at the opening lines of the poem. The boxes below contain the original Old English version and my own literal (word-for-word) translation.







ORIGINAL Hwæt. We Gardena in gear-dagum,
þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.
LITERAL What. We of the Spear-Danes in old days
of the people-kings, power heard,
how the princes brave deeds did.

Next, in the following boxes, look at how four modern translators have rendered these lines.







R. M. LIUZZA Listen!
We have heard of the glory in bygone days
of the folk-kings of the spear-Danes,
how those noble lords did lofty deeds.
BURTON RAFFEL Hear me! We've heard of Danish heroes,
Ancient kings and the glory they cut
For themselves, swinging mighty swords!
SEAMUS HEANEY So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had
courage and greatness.
We have heard of these princes' heroic
campaigns.
MICHAEL ALEXANDER Attend!
We have heard of the thriving of the
throne of Denmark,
how the folk-kings flourished in former
days,
how those royal athelings earned that glory.

You'll note that the differences begin with the translated versions of the opening word of the poem, Hwaet. This word, literally translated into modern English, means What, but its Old English meaning is somewhat different. In Old English, when stories were told orally by a storyteller, the word Hwaet was used to get the audience's attention at the beginning of the story in the way that a phrase like Listen to this! might be used today. Translators know that just using the word What wouldn't make much sense to modern readers, so the four translators above have chosen words which they hope will convey a similar meaning.





Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Let me count the ways. . .



How many ways can y'all say, "Your ass is sittin' on pomut, kopos, bumbac, bavina, algedon, namyk, pamuk, bawelna, or just plain x#%xx*@@&&+{:->}"???