Linguistic Treason

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.

Life in translation

I'm starting this in the hopes that it will help me figure out exactly what translation is, and if it really exists. My life is a life in translation as it is: I moved from Romania to the US nine years ago, in 1998, and have more or less carved a life for myself here. I've come to inhabit English more comfortably at times than Romanian, and I find that there's nothing I can do about it. At the same time, I'm constantly learning this language, its small histories that I didn't grow up with. There are little catch phrases from children's shows that everybody here knows about that  but that I don't, and couldn't have known, given that I came here as an adult and TV in Romania at the time  I grew up was a pathetic excuse for entertainment or education for that matter. There are names and personalities that were famous enough in the US but not at all known where I was (Mr. Rogers? Elmo? Sesame Street? In Living Color? etc.), and so pop-culture references often pass by me.

All this time, though, I try to continuously improve and learn and figure out where things came from--what everything means (a futile attempt, I know, but without which I would have no raison d'etre). My own cultural references, embedded in my native Romanian, are in the meantime getting farther and farther away from me. My mother tongue doesn't even guest stars in my dreams anymore. I dream almost exclusively in English now.

But I don't necessarily like that--all this forgetting business. To better reclaim that part of me that is, and forever will be Romanian, I'm starting this translation blog. I started doing literary translations a while ago, as a challenge, almost, to myself. About 3 or 4 years ago I found it impossible to rhyme in English--it seemed so difficult, an advanced topic more suited to native speakers, it seemed. And then I challenged myself to translate a full poem with rhymes and everything. To my surprise, I didn't completely fail--on the contrary, I found it liberating. I do use a variety of dictionaries (see the sidebar) in my work, and some poems just pour out of me, and some others--I'm stumped in their translation forever. This blog is meant to document both translation successes and failures, and question the possibility of translation, as in a full equivalent of the original in another language. I've come to realize that's just not possible; the most I can do is an interpretation. The same will go for Romanian>English and English>Romanian translations. The latter will be more scarce, but nevertheless--I will attempt it, especially in prose.

In the process, I hope my native language will be kept alive and flourishing inside me, and hopefully I can show some of its beauty to a non-Romanian speaking audience.