Linguistic Treason

Light

I've noticed a while ago that my "Categories" sidebar stopped working, for some mysterious reason, probably while TypePad was being upgraded. Since I wasn't posting and had no time to spare to figure it out (as usual, I assumed it was MY fault), I just let it go, but it bothered me: I couldn't find anything anymore.

So this a.m. I opened a help ticket with the nice folks at TypePad and lo! Sidebar restored. 

This has got to be the most boring customer service story EVER, I realize that, I do. But it's the most excitement my life can take right now. Sad, no?

In other news, I've become some sort of a sleeper hit, and by hit I mean, of course, that, apart from myself, two or more people seem to visit this blog, some even from time to time, even though I haven't really posted in over a year... and some others (gasp!) even leave comments, which, while deeply appreciated when I eventually discovered them, have been left to linger due to my aforementioned lack of activity on this blog. Guys, I'm sorry: I'll get there, I promise!

In the meantime, I've been translating alright, just not anything I actually enjoy or that's worth posting about (unless you're into complex clinical trial protocols and nauseatingly patriotic exemplary stories. Um...more on that later.)

But since it's Easter here, I'm going to post a short translation I did a while ago, by Tudor Arghezi, who, just in case you forgot, used to be an Orthodox monk for four years before settling on a career as a poet. I'm smiling right not because hey, those two career choices, one after the other? It would be really nice to have those kind of options today, you know?

What follows is the Romanian original, a quick and dirty literal translation, and a more polished and rhyming one:

Lumină by Tudor Arghezi Azi e sărbătoare mare, Îmbracă-te frumos, Pune-n păr felii de soare Şi nu privi în jos... Şterge orice supărare Din inima ta: Azi primeşte fiecare Lumină de stea. Nici o zi din calendare, Oricît ai căuta, N-are-aşa putere mare: Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa ! Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa, Ne vom înălţa !

Light Today is a big holiday Put on your Sunday best, Put slices of sun in your hair And don’t look down…   Erase any sorrow From your heart: Today everybody receives Light of a star.   No day in calendars, No matter how hard you look, Has such big power: We will rise, We will rise! etc.

Light A big holiday’s in the air Put on your best gown, Put slices of sun in your hair And don’t look down…   Your heart shouldn’t grieve Erase every scar: Today we all receive Light from a star.   In the calendars, no day No matter how long you seek Has such mighty sway: We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise! We shall rise!

Now, I've stopped celebrating Easter when my current religious views became incompatible with it, and by my "current" religious views I of course mean my non-existent religious views. Still, this poem made me smile, in a wise-but-candid sort of way, and so I'm going to share.

No perilous linguistic waters to cross with this one, just some tinkering here and there; this was pleasant to translate, almost (dare I say?) a breeze! Unlike Morgestimmung, Arghezi's mini-masterpiece, which has been causing me headaches for about two years (that's when I first decided to pursue its translation). This should answer a comment somebody left a while ago: yes, I have though about translating Morgenstimmung, and no, I have not been able to, not yet anyway. I have a pathetic attempt, an ersatz translation, if you will... it's fiendishly difficult and I'm starting to belive it's close to impossible (cue action music: Translation Impossible, as I hang by a thread over the alarm-tripping laser beams, but all my high-tech arsenal just can't unlock the secrets of that safe! bah!). Apparently, a competent translation exists in German, go figure! If any of you know of an English version, enlighten me, for I'm just about to give up!

Tudor Arghezi--Rag

Tudor Arghezi has always been a tough one to translate. Right now I'm belaboring over his Morgenstimmung, which has got to be one of the most frustrating poems I've worked on, which, trust me, is saying something. The only thing that keeps me going is my relative past success with one of his poems, a beloved children's classic taught in every Romanian kindergarten. It's a sweet little poem about a crafty dog named Zdreanta (Rag(s)), written by Arghezi for his daughter, Mitzura.

I've decided to do something different this time: in the first column you have the Romanian original, in the second a very literal translation of the poem, and in the third the final version, which preserves both the rhythm and the rhymes.

Zdreantã de Tudor Arghezi L-ati vãzut cumva pe Zdreanta, Cel cu ochii de faianta? E un câine zdrenturos De flocos, dar e frumos. Parca-i strans din petice, Ca sã-l tot impiedice, Ferfenitele-i atarna Si pe ochi, pe nara carna, Si se-ncurca si descurca, Parca-i scos din calti pe furca. Are insa o ureche De pungas fãrã pareche. Da tarcoale la cotet, Ciufulit si-asa laiet, Asteptand un ceas si doua O gaina sã se oua, Care canta cotcodace, Proaspat oul când si-l face. De când e-n gospodarie Multe a-nvatat si stie, Si, pe branci, taras, grapis, Se strecoara pe furis. Pune laba, ia cu botul Si-nghite oul cu totul. -- "Unde-i oul? a-ntrebat Gospodina. -- "L-a mancat!" "Stai nitel, ca te dezvat Fara matura si bat. Te invata mama minte." Si i-a dat un ou fierbinte. Dar decum l-a imbucat, Zdreanta l-a si lepadat Si-a-njurat cu un latrat. Când se uita la gaina, Cu culcusul lui, vecina, Zice Zdreanta-n gandul lui "S-a fãcut a dracului!"

Rag by Tudor Arghezi Did you happen to see Rag, The one with porcelain eyes? He’s a dog so hairy, he’s raggedy, But he’s handsome. It seems he’s gathered from patches And that they make him trip all the time. His tatters hang Over his eyes, his turned-up nostril, And he’s tangled and untangled, Like he’s spun out of [unprocessed] wool on a spindle. He however has the ear Of an unmatched thief [pickpocket]. He circles round the chicken coop, Fur all messy and long, Waiting for an hour or two For a hen to lay an egg, The hen clucks When she lays a fresh egg. Since he’s been in this household He’s learnt a lot, and he knows [a lot], And on his fours, crawling, He creeps furtively, Lays a paw, takes with his muzzle, And he swallows the entire egg. “Where’s the egg?” asked The housewife. –“He ate it!” “Wait a little, I’ll unlearn you, Without [using] a broom and a stick, Momma will teach you!” And she gave him a hot egg. But as soon as he put it in his mouth, Rag dropped it, And swore with a bark. When he looks at the hen— His neighbor, Rag says to himself, “She’s a damn tricky one!”

Rag by Tudor Arghezi Did you happen to see Rag, China eyes under that shag? He’s a dog with ragged fur Very handsome, as it were. Looks like he is patched together Ragged tatter over tatter. Shreds of fur over his eyes Put his nose into disguise. He’s all tangled as a fool Like he’s freshly spun from wool. But amazingly, this slobber Is a cunning, practiced robber. Loiters by the chicken coop With his scruffy furry droop, Waiting calmly for a hen To lay eggs for him again, Clucking happily as she Makes a fresh egg instantly. Since he’s been in this household He has learnt a lot, I’m told, And he crawls, at steady pace, Slinks towards that hidden place, Paw and muzzle through the hole, And he swallows the egg whole! “Where’s the egg?” Asked then the lady, Of the house, “It’s gone—he ate it!” “Wait a minute, I’ll unlearn you, Of this rotten habit, too! I will teach you not to steal.”— So a hot egg was his meal. But as soon as Rag chowed down, He dropped it quickly with a frown And swore with a big bow-wow.  When he looks now at the hen— Next door neighbor, in her pen— Mutters Rag begrudgingly: “Damn! She’s trickier than me!”

Ok, that made me feel better. Now, back to work!