Linguistic Treason

George Topârceanu - Jealousy

I think Topârceanu will always be remembered for this kind of poems--fun, light, good for a chuckle, making you think about pretty deep things while making fun of them at the same time. I love this one, in particular:

Gelozie de George Topârceanu Dacă nu ne-am fi-ntâlnit (Absolut din întâmplare), Tu pe altul oarecare Tot aşa l-ai fi iubit. Dacă nu-ţi ieşeam în drum Ai fi dat cu bucurie Altuia străin, nu mie, Mângâierile de-acum. Ai avea şi vreun copil Care, poate (idiotul!), Ar fi semănat în totul Cu-acel tată imbecil. Şi aşa... ce lucru mare Că-ntr-o zi ne-am întâlnit Şi că-s foarte fericit, -- Absolut din întâmplare!

Jealousy by George Topârceanu If you and I had never met (Absolutely happenstance) You’d have found perhaps romance With some other guy, I bet. If I hadn’t crossed your way You’d have offered happily To a stranger, not to me, This affectionate display. You’d most likely have a child Who, (the idiot!) would look Every cranny, every nook, Like his dad, that imbecile. And so…what a lucky chance That the two of us should meet And I’m happy and upbeat— Absolutely happenstance!

George Toparceanu--Parody after Homer

I've worked for quite a while on this one and it's just as imperfect as when I started it, it seems. No matter: I had to put it up here or I would have never gotten out of my blogging rut! So, here he is, the delightful (and regrettably forgotten) Topârceanu, with his impeccable linguistic genius, gently poking fun at Ulysses' torments at sea. (Hint: it ain't as noble a suffering as you thought it was). (Oh, ok: Ulysses is horny. Like, Austin Powers-horny.)

And he does it all in perfect dactylic hexameters--down to preserving caesurae and other such stuff that ancient poets cared about.

At first you might think that it's a bit easier to translate a large chunk of poetry that doesn't need rhyming, only some sort of rhythm adjustment. If you didn't think that, congratulate yourself. And if you did think it, let me quote Mr. T: I pity the fool.

(Speaking of fools: Have I introduced myself yet? Hi. I'm Cristina.)

So! A Romanian parody after the "Odyssey" and its randy hero, translated into English? What could go wrong, indeed...

Just keep in mind that you need to "read" this aloud conforming to the rhythm: six dactyls (/ _ _, or heavy-light-light), the last one a trochee (/ _) or a spondee (/ /) As in: Arma vi/rumque ca/no,// Troiae qui/ primus ab/ oris. Ok, this is Latin (the Aeneid, of course--Virgil)--which uses the caesura (the pause right there, after "cano"). This is closer to home: a transliteration of the first line of the Odyssey (found here):
ândra  moi / ênnepe, / Moûsa,  po/lûtropon, / hôs  mala / pôlla
Read that with the right emphasis and you'll get the idea.

Topârceanu preserves this rhythm to a T in Romanian (although he sometimes introduces the caesura) , plus has a few Homeric comparisons and stereotyped epithets for good measure (Ulysses is "prudent," Athena is "wise," etc.). He even has notes (in hexameters!) to his own parody! To explain these notes: 1) Murnu was a famous Romanian translator (ancient Greek and Latin); 2) "Ananghi" is an invented "goddess" (of fate) derived from the Romanian "ananghie" (=dire straits), which comes from the Greek "ananki"=need. I invented my own goddess in the translation--"Plightiké" (stress on the final syllable)--a composite of "plight" and a vaguely Greek-sounding ending. (Ahem.) I'm quite certain Topârceanu knew very well that this was a Greek word, and used it intentionally (as in, this is a word as good as any to generate a deity, and by Golly, that's what I'm going to do).

The Romanian text is brimming with irony--in a really subtle, literate way. I've tried to convey that playfulness here and there, but my efforts are still patchy. However, I'm willing to accept criticism, or even better, suggestions!

Here it is:

George Topârceanu Homer: Chinurile lui Ulise Fragment apocrif din Odiseea, în hexametri şi pentametri ... Astfel corabia-n fugă plutea cu uşoarele-i pânze Doldora pline de vânt, peste noianul de ape. Singur pe navă prudentul Ulise privea cu-ntristare, Cât ţi-i oceanul de larg, zările fără catarguri. Căci părăsind pe frumoasa Calipso cea aprigă-n şolduri (Pentru că nu-i mai plăcea) şi navigând la-ntâmplare Trei săptămâni împlinite departe de ţărmuri, eroul Nu mai zărise de-atunci dulce obraz de femeie... Cum, la sfârşit de ospăţ, muritorul aruncă la mâţe Restul juncanului fript, fără să-i treacă prin minte Că mai apoi flămânzind cerceta-va-n zadar să găsească O bucăţică de zgârci ca să-şi astâmpere foamea; Astfel eroul simţise de-amor că lehamite-i este Cât l-a avut din belşug lângă Calipso, iar astăzi Jalnic striga peste valuri de dorul histericei nimfe Care-l ţinuse captiv, ca să-l iubească cu sila: ,,Cine m-a pus să te las şi să plec pe pustiile ape Fără să ştiu încotro, nici până când rătăci-voi? Valul uşor clipotind îmi aduce zadarnic aminte Sunetul glasului tău, blondă şi dulce Calipso! O, ce neghiob am putut într-o clipă să fiu de-a lăsare, După himere-alergând, nimfa cea grasă din mână! Geaba umblat-am atâtea pământuri şi mări depărtate, Asta să-mi fie de-acum pentru-nvăţare de minte..." Deci cam în chipul acesta plângând cu bărbată strigare Bietul Ulise gemea, gata să sară în valuri. Cel ce cu agera-i minte sub zidul troian născocise Gloaba cea mare de lemn care-a pătruns în cetate [Nota 1] Nu era-n stare acum, la strâmtoare fiind, să găsească Vai! nici un mijloc onest pentru-a scăpa de ispită. Nobilu-i trup se zbătea, legănat de mişcările navei, Pradă destinului orb şi nemiloasei Ananghi... [Nota 2] Dar din lăcaşu-i divin de pe vârful Olimpului falnic, Fiica măreţului Zeus, Pallas-Atena-nţeleaptă, Cea care-i poartă de grijă la orice nevoie, îl vede Cum rătăceşte pe mări, singur — cu mâna pe cârmă... Iată-aşadar că din valul adânc răsărind fără veste, Ca un agil cufundar, fiica lui Cadmus cea mică, Ino, cu trupul gingaş s-a ivit scuturându-şi în soare Părul ei galben şi ud leoarcă de apă amară. — O, nestatornice fiu al bătrânului rege Laerte! Ce curioase idei vin să-ţi întunece mintea? Oare puţine răbdări păn-acum pribegind îndurat-ai, Ca să te-arunci în adânc pentru o treabă ca asta?... Când mă gândesc ce de nopţi a tânjit Penelopa cea castă După doritul ei soţ, care stă gata să piară, Nu pot răbda să te ştiu la-ndemână, prin apele mele, Fără să-ţi dau ajutor, mare fiind filantroapă! Iat-am venit să-ţi aduc aşadar un colac de salvare, Numai atâta mă-ntreb — dacă ţi-a fi pe măsură... Zise şi-n chip de pretext îi aruncă o mică eşarfă. Iar încercatul erou, făr-a-i întoarce cuvântul, Grabnic s-apleacă spre nimfă şi cât ai clipi o ridică De subţiori din ocean — sus pe covertă, trăgând-o... * Unde zglobii împrejur clipotind se-nălţau curioase, Nava plutea uşurel, fără pilot în lumină. Valuri fugeau după valuri spre ţărm depărtat călătoare, Cerul era liniştit — marea pustie şi verde. ________________________________________ Note de subsol [1] Lucruri expuse pe larg în traducerea dlui Murnu, Harnicul nostru tălmaci care-a tradus Iliada, Carte ce fu mintenaş premiată cu premiul cel mare, Pentru că suntem un stat eminanente agricol... (n. a.). [2] Zeiţa sorţii.

George Topârceanu Homer: Ulysses’ Woes Apocryphal Odyssey fragment In hexameters and pentameters …Thus was the fast-faring sailboat afloat with her feathery light sails Chockfull of wind, over seas, and traversing vast stretches of water. Lone on the vessel the prudent Ulysses looked back with dejection, Sorrowful sight he beheld, with the skies without masts over oceans, For, after leaving the pretty Calypso with fiery hips (As he had ceased to enjoy her), and having thus sailed quite at random Three bitter weeks far away from the shore, our hero had not yet Touched, or just seen a sweet woman’s visage to perhaps tide him over, Just like the mortal who full from the feast will casually toss to the cats Leftovers of roasted calf,  without even thinking a second Later when famished, that vainly he’ll try to discover Cartilage bits for himself to sate his formidable hunger, Thus our hero had felt at one time much too sick of love’s rut Back when with fair-haired Calypso plenty of it he had had For his hysterical nymph he extends his too pitiful cries She as a slave had him kept, to love him against his dear wishes: “Who made me leave you to roam like a ghost over desolate waters Knowing not when, nor how long I will wander in silence, so lonely? Waves softly lapping remind me in vain of the sound of your singing, Beauty incarnate, oh blonde nymph Calypso, sweet mistress of mine! Oh what a lout have I been to have left, in a moment of blindness, Out of my hand, the fat nymph, while pursuing chimeras at sea! Oh but in vain have I roamed foreign lands and cold oceans so many Let this sad fate be a cruel and unfortunate lesson to me…” Wailing some more in this manner, with many a too manly bellows, Ulysses moaned for a while, ready to jump in the water. He who with cunning maneuvers in Troy by himself had concocted The huge wooden jade that could finally break through the castle [Note 1] For the sake of his life, or of Pete’s, couldn’t find in this hour of need An honest way out of these frightening straits to get rid of temptation. Nobly his body was twisting and turning while rocked by the ship, Prey to blind fate and to cruel Plightiké without pity…[Note 2] But from her heavenly home, from the top of majestic Olympus, Great Zeus’s daughter, that Pallas Athena, formidably wise, She who takes care of Ulysses when needed, sees him in distress Wandering all by himself on the seas with his hand on the helm… Thus from the depths of the ocean, who suddenly rose without notice, Limber and slim like a loon? It was Cadmus’s youngest of daughters, Ino, with delicate body, emerging from waves all aflutter, Shaking her fair-colored tresses that drip with the bitter salt water. "Oh, you capricious and fickle offspring of the old king Laertes! What weird ideas are coming and clouding your mind at this hour? Haven’t you suffered enough in your long and peculiar travels To now throw yourself overboard, and for such a ridiculous matter? Oh, when I think of the nights chaste Penelope longed for Soul of her soul, her beloved Ulysses, now ready to perish, I cannot stand knowing you're floating around in my waters, Helpless without me, so now I will prove my philanthropist chops! Thus have I come to present you my special and own life preserver, Only one question remains to be answered, which is, does it fit you?" Said she, and promptly as pretext, a scarf (multicolored!) she gave him. Hardened Ulysses, without even trying to answer her back, Quickly bends over and lightly he pulls her on board in an instant, Up from the ocean, and gently he lays her right there on the deck. * Playfully, curious waves lapped around as they craned foamy crests, Gently the ship was afloat, with no pilot or lights, in the ocean, Waves after waves chased each other to far-away shores, all too quiet, Cloudless, the sky was asleep, the ocean was green and deserted. Notes: 1. Things all too clearly explained in Mr. Murnu’s translation, Our interpreter, brave and so tireless Iliad-wrestler, Book that was pronto rewarded with first class accolades,  Because evidently we are an agrarian state first of all… 2. The goddess of fate.

George Toparceanu--Autumn in the park

This is a sweet, funny poem, typical of Toparceanu's lyrical sensibility. It's also perfectly seasonal, seeing as to how, finally, fall has come around here, after a prolonged, humid, smelly, insufferable summer. I learned this poem from my father (who loved it!) when I was very very young. I didn't understand the irony one bit (what, I was 6? 7, maybe?), so the poem might have been lost on me then. However, I never forgot it, and to this day I could still recite it at will!

I've included the raw, literal translation in the middle, then my version, which preserves, mostly, the trochaic, 8-syllable rhythm--at some linguistic expense, though, as it is patently clear.

Toamna în parc de George Toparceanu Cad grăbite pe aleea Parcului cu flori albastre Frunze moarte, vorba ceea, Ca iluziile noastre. Prin lumina estompată De mătasa unui nor, Visătoare trece-o fată C-un plutonier-major. Rumen de timiditate El se uită-n jos posac. Ea striveşte foi uscate Sub pantofii mici de lac. Şi-ntr-o fină discordanţă Cu priveliştea sonoră, Merg aşa, cam la distanţă, El major şi ea minoră...

Autumn in the Park (raw version) Hurriedly [they] fall on the alley Of the park with blue flowers Dead leaves, as the saying goes, Like our illusions. Through the light blurred By the silk of a cloud, A girl is walking, dreaming, With a sergeant-major. Ruddy with shyness, He looks down, sullenly. She squashes dry leaves Under her small patent shoes. And in a fine discordance With the sonorous view They walk sort of at a distance, He a major, she a minor…

Fall in the park by George Toparceanu Falling swiftly on the alley Of the park with flowers blue In a long autumnal rally, Dead leaves—as our dreams are, too. In the light that’s softly sifting Through the silken cloud below, Dreamily a girl is drifting, Sergeant major in her tow. Timid, flushed, and all aflutter, He looks down, very confused, She is squashing leafy clutter. Under her small patent shoes. And in a refined discordance With the view that’s ever finer, They keep walking, at a distance, He a major—she a minor.