Linguistic Treason

10 months of uneven days

It's been 10 months since the last entry, which can only mean that:
1) I am in no way, shape, or form a proper Blogger;
2) I've really missed this place! Really!

I had this ambition to pursue a different, "life" blog on the side, but that went the way of "Saturday's water," to quote the brilliant yet now seemingly defunct Mintrubbing.org. Life sorta....kinda...got in the way. I finished and defended my dissertation and got my Ph.D. (no, not in poetry nor in translation, but in - are you ready for this?- rhetoric); and later on I got a job and spent the past 3+ months teaching freshman comp, in a 4/4 load non-TT job at a university whose chief virtue is that it is located 20 minutes away from my house (10' by bus, 10' on foot). I'm writing this with a 3-ft high stack of papers still needing to be graded next to me, so it seems like just about the right time, no? So...that kept me relatively busy.

But enough of that: this is not a personal blog in THAT way, although of course it's highly personal in every other way, if you consider that each selection posted here speaks to me and reflects me, at least at this particular juncture in time.

I've decided to make my comeback with a song I've often hummed under my breath, by my beloved Andries, "Zile egale," which can be translated by "Equal" or "Even Days." I'm still torn which to choose. "Equal" is the literal and quite correct translation of "egal," "even" has that implication of flatness, levelness, and steadiness, of routine, if you will, which is also the meaning here; however, I'm not sure that this would be clear in English from the sole instance that the phrase appears in the song...

What I love in most of Andries's work is that feeling of "huh" that he leaves you with at the end, and he doesn't disappoint here, either; it's that mundane and mischievous side that keeps him from sliding into sentimental crap and keeps his lyrics a notch or 10 above other writers'.

The syntax is quite simple and I've sought to preserve it as much as I could (I can't help it, I am sort of a purist), even when it sounded a little forced in English, as in "Why, I don't know, I'm lonely so/I go..."--but when read, or better, sung with the right intonation, it makes sense, and it capitalizes on that inner rhyme he's so fond of here. I absolutely adore the final metaphor, the "equal/even" days whose burden creeps into his room, populating it with shadows and turning it into a little curiosity shop for his absent lover. It's as beautiful as it's unassuming and ending with the invitation to shop for "soul" souvenirs, I imagine.

Which brings me to my linguistic conundrum of the day: the Romanian for window display or shop window display is "vitrina," applicable also to any piece of furniture fitted with a glass display case in order to show off bibelots and various decorative objects. Much to my surprise, the word exists almost in the same form in English; I found this in the Merriam-Webster:

vi·trine [Pronunciation:\və-ˈtrēn\], noun. Etymology: French, from vitre pane of glass, from Old French, from Latin vitrum. Date: 1880. A glass showcase or cabinet especially for displaying fine wares or specimens

...which renders the meaning of "vitrina" quite beautifully, except perhaps for the commercial meaning extension it has acquired in Romanian (shop window). Also, "vitrina" is a fairly well-used word in Romanian, as one can imagine, whereas I dare you find handy contexts for the use of "vitrine" in English. (I've never heard it used at all, in fact). This led to my more mundane choice of "shop window" with the addition of "sign" for the rhyme, and whose insertion here I will defend on two accounts: 1) it rhymes better, duh (there's virtually no good rhyme for "window," did you know that?); 2) the shadowy play of the "traces" of the "equal days" points, indeed, to the making of an intricate sign of sorts (right?); 3) it doesn't change much of the meaning--right? right? (Ok, a little, but we can live with it!).

As all of Andries, this sounds better on music...I'll try to put the mp3 up one of these days!

Zile egale de Alexandru Andrieş Telefonul pentru mine e un duşman, Îl ţin pe podea, ascuns după divan, Pentru mine niciodată nu sună, Şi cînd sună, nu-i zi bună, Zău, nu, Tu nu eşti la celălalt capăt... De ce nu, nu ştiu, e-n jur pustiu Şi-atunci la plimbare pe stradă ies ! Rareori mă salută cineva Şi-asta doar dac-are nevoie de cîte ceva, Eu cu toată lumea m-am purtat frumos Dar lucrurile mi-au ieşit mereu pe dos, Zău, Azi aş fi avut nevoie de tine, Te-am sunat, te-am căutat, dar în zadar: Încerc mîine iar! Zile egale peste mine apasă, Închid fereastra să nu intre-n casă, Da' ele se strecoară prin geamul crăpat Şi se-aşează peste tot, pe masă, pe pat, Pe scaun... Urma lor fină Transformă camera mea în vitrină... N-ai vrea să intri, să cumperi ceva ?

Equal Days by de Alexandru Andrieş The phone is an enemy to me, I keep it under the bed, so I can’t see it, It never rings for me, and when it rings It’s only to tell me really bad things, Really, it's true, You’re not at the other end… Why, I don’t know, I’m lonely so I go outside to roam the streets… People rarely say hello to me, And only if they need me to do something for free I have always been nice to everyone, But my plans have always come undone, Really, Today I needed you so badly I’ve been calling you and I’ve looked for you, in vain: I’ll try tomorrow again… Equal days are bearing down on me, I’ve closed my window so they can’t get in, But they creep inside through the broken frame And they sit on my bed, on my desk, and they claim My chair… Their traces so fine Turn my room into a shop window sign… Won’t you come in, buy something from me?

Alexandru Andries--The Fog

Here's the video for Ceaţa (The Fog), this bitter-sweet song, with a Citizen-Kane vibe to it. Simply beautiful. I would comment more on my translation but I'm so tired today...

Ceaţa de Alexandru Andrieş De departe bărbat, de aproape copil, Strîngînd tare la piept un secret inutil, Un cuvînt nerostit nici cînd scria poezii... De departe bărbaţi, de aproape copii! Oameni vin şi se duc şi de el se ciocnesc, Trenuri zboară pieziş, telefoane-i vorbesc, Noaptea n-are opt ore, ziua n-are sfîrşit De departe cărunt, de-aproape-obosit... Trei femei îi zîmbesc, toate trei ca de vată, Tipărite cu grijă pe hîrtie cretată, De departe-s frumoase, de aproape la fel: O revistă şi-o carte-ntr-un pat de hotel. Şi nevasta-l aşteaptă şi copiii lui cresc, Avioane îl iau şi îl duc şi-l opresc, Cifre-n loc de cuvinte, peste răni care dor Şi nimic nu rimează într-un astfel de zbor... Poţi să nu-l laşi să doarmă, poţi să nu-i dai mîncare, Poţi să-i tai bucăţele fiecare ţigară, Poţi să-i faci praf maşina, banii... banii poţi să-i arunci, Ochii lui încă vor jucăria de-atunci... De departe bărbat, de aproape copil, Strîngînd tare la piept un secret inutil, Un cuvînt nerostit nici cînd scria poezii... De departe bărbaţi, de-aproape copii ! De departe bărbaţi, de aproape copii...

The Fog by Alexandru Andrieş From a distance a man, from close-up just a kid, Holding fast to his chest all the secrets he hid, Words unspoken and lost even back when he rhymed From afar look like men, but they’re children inside… People come, people go, people bump into him, Telephones blare and shout, trains take flight on a whim, Nights have never eight hours, days are endless and wired From afar he has grays, from close-up he’s too tired… Women smile straight at him, made of cotton and vapor, Printed with proper care on high-end glossy paper, From afar they are pretty, in close-up they still are: Shiny magazine covers on the room’s mini bar. And his wife keeps on waiting, and his children grow up, Planes take him far away, and they fly and they stop, Words replaced by dry numbers, over wounds that cause pain, And there’s nothing that rhymes while he’s riding this train. You can deprive him of sleep, give him nothing to eat, You can throw all his smokes, in the trash, on the street, You can spend all his money, his car—you can destroy, His eyes still long to see his beloved old toy. From a distance a man, from close-up just a kid, Holding fast to his chest all the secrets he hid, Words unspoken and lost even back when he rhymed, From afar look like men, but they’re children inside… From afar look like men, but they’re children inside…

Alexandru Andries--Like the sand all women are

Another one of my favorites--Andries's Like the sand all women are. My linguistic treasons--oh, boy. Let's see:

- "Si viata e un hotel"="And life is a hotel"--translated through "and life is so surreal." I needed a rhyme for "steel"--which I couldn't really give up.

- I went a little overboard with the next to last stanza: "Au camere mari, cu multe oglinzi,/ Ca-ntr-o plasa în ele te prinzi... / Cînd sub patura moale te-ntinzi /Nici nu stii cît de adînc te prinzi." Literally, this is "They have big rooms with lots of mirrors/ You get caught in them like in a net/ When you lie down under the soft blanket/ You have no idea how deep you're getting in." This a monorhyme, so I needed to use the same rhyme for all the four lines, which was tough. And so the "catch you in their net" became "weave you inside their silvery room"; "under the blanket" became "blanket's womb", and so on and so forth.

I love this little song, a little playful, a little sad, a little  bittersweet, Andries at his best, in my opinion.  Enjoy.

CA NISIPUL FEMEILE SUNT de Alexandru Andries Barbatii-s facuti din carne, Femeile - din otel, Ar fi trebuit sa fie invers, Dar Dumnezeu mai greseste si el... Femeile zic ca-s din carne, Barbatii ca-s din otel, Si de-aia e noaptea-ntuneric Si viata e un hotel... Ca nisipul femeile sînt, Le ia pe sus orice boare de vînt Si-napoi nu mai vin nicicînd... Ca nisipul femeile sînt ! Au camere mari, cu multe oglinzi, Ca-ntr-o plasa în ele te prinzi... Cînd sub patura moale te-ntinzi Nici nu stii cît de adînc te prinzi ! Au ochi sa te-opreasca, Si-aceiasi ochi sa te goneasca Curînd... Ca nisipul femeile sînt...

LIKE THE SAND ALL WOMEN ARE by Alexandru Andries All men are made of flesh, All women are made of steel, It should have really been the other way, But even God can err, and He will. Women claim they’re made of flesh, And men, that they’re made of steel, And that’s why the nights are so dark And life is so surreal. Like the sand all women are Winds take them away up to a star And they never return from afar Just like the sand all women are. They have lots of mirrors up in their room Which weave you inside their silvery loom And when you lie in the blanket’s womb You will get lost in their perfume. Their eyes will seduce you And the same eyes will chase you Away… Just like the sand all women are.

Alexandru Andries--That's What You Do

A fun, sweet, heart-melting song from Andries.

ASTA FACI TU de Alexandru Andries Pîn' la tine ma simteam Ca un abtibild pe geam, Stiu cum e fara, Stiu acum cum e cu... Te-am dorit - nu mi-e rusine - Si de-atunci am tevi în mine: Tevi mici pentru da, Tevi mai mari pentru nu... Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Pielea s-a-ngrosat treptat Si de-aia cad bucati din pat, De-aia mai scîrtîi Si fara bere, si cu... Uite-ma cum stau si tac Ca o boala fara leac; Fara reteta Ce sa iau si ce nu ? Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Ora 7 - ma trezesc, Din cauza ta zîmbesc; Ora 9 - chiar ma scol Si te caut pîna-n hol; Ora 5 - manînc ceva, (Mi-e) pofta de dumneata... 10 noaptea - nu mi-e somn, Ajuta-ma tu sa dorm, Ajuta-ma tu... Soricei la mine-n burta Fac scandal si nu m-asculta, Se-ntîmpla la fel Fara mîncare si cu... O vrabie mica cît o stea Da din aripi în inima mea: Asta nu-i bine, Poti sa fii sigur ca nu! Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Asta faci tu... Daca crezi ca exagerez, Te las sa ma controlezi...

THAT'S WHAT YOU DO by Alexandru Andries Until you, I felt so lost-- Like a sticker on a post, I know life without you, And now I know it with you. I wanted you, I’m not ashamed, And since then I got pipes laid-- Small pipes for yes, Bigger pipes for no, too. That’s what you do… That’s what you do… That’s what you do… The skin thickened bit by bit And that’s why the bed has split That’s why I’m squeaking, Beer in or without. Look at me, I’m so unsure Like an illness with no cure, Without prescription— What should I take in and out? That’s what you do… That’s what you do… That’s what you do… Seven a.m.—I wake up You make me smile and I shut up Nine a.m.—get out of bed Look for you inside my head. Five pm—I’m having lunch But it’s you I want to munch 10 at night—not dreaming yet Help me sleep and then forget, Help me sleep and then… Butterflies inside my gut Cause a rattle and won’t stop It’s always the same Whether I ate or not. A bird as little as a star Flaps her wings inside my heart This can’t be too good, Oh, you bet that it’s not! That’s what you do… That’s what you do… That’s what you do… If you think I exaggerate Why don’t you investigate...

Alexandru Andries--The most beautiful day

This is the video for this beautiful, heartbreaking song by Alexandru Andries. My translation does not enhance it one bit, and in fact it might be hard to sing it seamlessly in the English version (one would have to try really hard). Still, somebody made me think of it, though (you know who you are!) so here it is...

Cea mai frumoasă zi Un fel de a mai lungi Cea mai frumoasa zi Ar fi daca m-ai putea minti Ai da ceasul inapoi Ai fierbe doua oua moi Mi-ai spune ca-n casa suntem doar noi Tacerea te-ar ajuta Sa scapi de intrebarea mea Din toate intrebarile Cea mai grea Cand seara s-ar face gri Nu te-ai mai putea stapani Din baie la telefon,ai vorbi Cu glasul intunecat Cu aerul imbufnat Orice numai sa ma vezi plecat si atunci te-ntreb Mai stii? Cea mai frumoasa zi A fost la inceput Cand nu ma puteai minti...

The most beautiful day A way to make it stay-- The most beautiful day--, Would be if you could lie to me anyway. You’d turn back the clock You’d fire up the crock, You’d tell me we’re home alone—what a shock. The silence would sweep afar My question, so here we are— The hardest of questions, an open scar. When the evening turns to gray You would be forced to stray— You’ll talk on the phone from the bathroom, and say With your voice completely dark  With your face completely stark Anything as long as I’ll go away. And then I’ll ask you, Hey, The most beautiful day Was in the beginning when You couldn’t lie to me anyway…

Alexandru Andries: Your beauty's gone

I started with Andries and I can't help but continue with the same. I translated the previous song about two years ago; now I'm hungry for more. Here's a song that kind of resonates with me because...well, that's how I feel every morning (I should internalize the message of the last stanza more, huh?). I found this not at all difficult to translate, I'm not sure why...I guess I know my Andries inside out? I also haven't committed any major linguistic treasons on this one...just a few minor ones, for good measure...

Frumuseţea ta s-a dus by Alexandru Andries E dimineaţa mai rău ca un cazan, Trupul tău e primul tău duşman: Pulpe prea groase, kilograme-n plus, Pantalonii buni - unde i-oi fi pus? Obrajii, uite-i: rotunzi-rotunzi-rotunzi, Şi Doamne, unde, cum să te ascunzi? Oglinda-ţi spune "Ţine fruntea sus!" Cînd vezi deja că frumuseţea ta s-a dus... Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta... Oricine ştie ce trebuie să faci, Ce mîncare fără şi exerciţii-n draci, Verificări la sînge, zi de zi, Ţinta supremă: zero calorii! Dieta zice ca azi să posteşti, Vecinul zice că arăţi ca-n poveşti... Cîntarul zice că nu-i nimic în plus, Da' tu ştii bine: frumuseţea ta s-a dus ! Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta... Poţi să alergi, poţi să faci sărituri, Poţi să înoţi, chiar şi cu figuri, Poţi să încerci şi băi, da, băi cu ozon, Poţi să te înscrii şi la maraton, Poţi să dansezi tot timpul, mereu, Poţi să dansezi tot timpul pe cîntecul meu, Ăsta-i un cîntec cum altele nu-s: Îţi spune clar că frumuseţea ta s-a dus, pa! Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta s-a dus Frumuseţea ta... De ce e aşa? Fiindcă nu asta era Frumuseţea ta... Uuuuuuu…

Your beauty is gone by Alexandru Andries translated by: Cristina Hanganu-Bresch The morning is a cauldron when you know Your body is your first and bitter foe; Your thighs are thick, you’ve gained another pound, Those good pants are nowhere to be found. Those cheeks—just look—so chubby, chubby, chubby, There’s no way you can hide the fact you’re tubby The mirror says “Chin up!” and “Let’s march on!” When you can plainly see your beauty’s gone. Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s gone. Everybody knows what you should do, More exercise, no food at all for you, Everyday you practice strict control And zero calories should be your goal! Your diet says again that you are fasting Your neighbor says again you look fantastic The scales tell you that you’ve put nothing on, But you know better, though: your beauty’s gone! Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s gone. You can run, and bounce, and ski, and jump, You can swim and skate and shake your rump, You can try a spa, or possibly mud wraps, Run a marathon, laps after laps, You can twist and shout all day long, You can dance all you want to my song, This song’s conclusion is long foregone: It tells you clearly that your beauty’s gone--bye! Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s clearly gone, Your beauty’s gone. Why should you think so? Because this wasn’t Your beauty, though… Uuuuuu.....

Alexandru Andries: Our Menu

This is a simple, delightful song, without a proper chorus, as it were, with a repetitive and catchy melody, very much typical of the offerings of Alexandru Andrieş; maybe a little more more erotic than usual.

Because this is actually a song, I had to pay extra-attention to the rhythm and fluidity of each stanza. At times (ok, many times) this turned into an adaptation rather than a translation.

Here are some of the more significant "treasons" I've committed in this adaptation:

"Degetele tale toate
Sint ca sarea in bucate"

translated by:

"Your long fingers, fine and shrill
Are like spices on a grill."

"Ca sarea in bucate" is sort of a consecrated phrase in Romanian and it means "tops," "delicious"--literally, "like salt in food," or in other fairy-tale versions, "as dear as salt." It comes from a fairy tale retold by Ion Creanga (for more stories of this type, see here.). And yes, I am aware "shrill" does not exactly apply to "fingers," but I thought that in this erotic synaesthesia, it's possible to share all sorts of inappropriate epithets between the parts of the body. I haven't found a suitable alternative yet! Plus, when the text is so rhyme-heavy (3-4-2 rhymes per stanza), one must make a compromise or two.

Next:

"Cum respiri, cum se prefac
In cornite tari de drac"

is translated by

"When you breathe, they rise and moan
And they harden like they're stone"

A literal translation is, "When you breathe, they turn into/ Hard little devil's horns."

Finally:

Care-ascund sub stropi de roua
Un secret de nota noua
Nota zece, domnilor,
Este pentru profesori."

is translated by:

"Hiding, under a dew bell
A sweet secret, kept so well-
We're the only ones to know
We won't tell, and we won't show."

First, "stropi de roua" is really just "dew drops." I needed a lot of rhymes in "-ell" though, so I thought "dew bell" would be an acceptable poetic compromise (it's something you can "hide" things under). I totally deviated from the original at the end. Literally, the translation should be: "An nine-point secret/A ten, as we know/Is just for teachers." (9 is A- and 10 is A, on a scale from 1 to 10, commonly used in Romanian schools). I used to have a teacher actually who subscribed to the philosophy that no student deserved a 10, since no student could be as perfect as she was, and only she deserved 10; the best we could do was a 9. (Yes, stupid, I know, however, apparently popular among a certain crop of Bucharest teachers). At any rate, this is the ironic, playful Andries that we know and love, poking gentle fun at his love interest. I found this untranslatable because the whole philosophy behind it (A, or 10, is only for teachers!) would be completely foreign in English-speaking countries (or so I think). Instead, I played up the "secret" angle, and worked it out into a tenable rhyme.

And now, the whole poem:

LISTA NOASTRA DE BUCATE de Alexandru Andries Parul blond taiat in scari, Buzele cu tot cu nari Sint desigur doar gustari-- Nu tin de foame. Degetele tale toate Sint ca sarea in bucate Lasa-ma intins pe spate Sa le gust pe saturate Cind mi-e foame ca acum Nu ma satur orisicum. Limba ta ca o sageata Sta invelita in sal de vata Toata fum si miere toata Daca mi-e foame. Rasuflarea-ntretaiata In pahar de sticla mata Face pofta mai bogata Daca o bei din git, deodata Ochii intorsi spre vise, Toate caile deschise. La lumina grea de noapte Sint pufosi ca niste soapte Umerii, caise coapte Care fac foame. Si intre umeri si stomac Doua dealuri tandre tac Cum respiri, cum se prefac In cornite tari de drac Stim de asta numai noi Felul intii, si felul doi. Genunchii tai sint niste sfere Rotunjite de placere Au miros si gust de mere Si iara mi-e foame. Soldurile amindoua Sint ca niste coji de oua Care-ascund sub stropi de roua Un secret de nota noua Nota zece, domnilor, Este pentru profesori.

OUR MENU by Alexandru Andries Golden hair with wavy trim, Nostrils, lips, a bit of chin-- Appetizers on a whim Can't fool my hunger. Your long fingers, fine and shrill, Are like spices on a grill Let me taste them, have my fill, While I'm lying down, at will When I'm hungry like I'm now I will take time, I know how. Your tongue is pointed like an arrow Wrapped in cotton candy, narrow, It's all mist and honey marrow If I'm hungry. Your gasping breath just makes me bounce As I'm drinking, ounce by ounce, Gets my appetite to flounce If I drink it all at once Your eyes turned to dreaming All the paths ahead are gleaming. In the heavy moonlight glow Sweet ripe apricots below Shoulders whisper soft hello They make me hungry again. And between belly and shoulders Two tender, soft and silent boulders When you breathe, they rise and moan And they harden like they're stone Only we know this, of course, The first course, the second course. Your knees are two gentle spheres Round with pleasure when I'm near, They taste and smell like apples, dear, And I'm hungry again. Your hips are tender as they swell, Gently curved like an egg shell Hiding, under a dew bell A sweet secret, kept so well- We're the only ones to know We won't tell, and we won't show.