[lit-ideas] Re: APRIL POEMS (4th)
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 4 Apr 2005 17:54:36 -0500
Thank you, Chris, those were fun. Translation always fascinates me, I can't
imagine having the kind of familiarty in two languages necessary for
translating poetry. Unfortunately I wouldn't know if a translation is a
good or bad translation, only whether I like it as an English language poem.
Hopefully phatic will grace us with one of his fine translations as well.
And Henninge.
Did anybody guess that I could write so sweetly?
Mike Geary
Memphis
----- Original Message -----
From: "Chris Bruce" <bruce@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Monday, April 04, 2005 4:57 PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] APRIL POEMS (4th)
> I'd like to offer the list one of my favourite German
> poems - in original with a couple of translations (and
> comments thereon). What at first appears simple
> straight-forward comic verse has a couple of twists to it.
>
> Die Ameisen
>
> In Hamburg lebten zwei Ameisen,
> Die wollten nach Australien reisen.
> Bei Altona auf der Chaussee
> Da taten ihnen die Beine weh,
> Und da verzichteten sie weise
> Dann auf den letzten Teil der Reise.
>
> - Joachim Ringelnatz
>
> A roughly literal translation:
>
> The Ants
>
> In Hamburg lived two ants,
> who wished to travel to Australia.
> In Altona on the Chausee
> there their legs hurt,
> and there they wisely gave up
> then on the last part of the trip.
>
> On the Brindin Press website
> http://www.brindin.com/wintro.htm
> Brian Cole reproduces John Brough's translation, with the
> following comment: "The geographical shift, with
> meaning, metre and rhyme matched, allow the English to
> make the same impression on an English reader as the
> original would on a German (though there is of course no
> way of allowing for different national senses of humour!)."
>
> Here is Brough's translation:
>
> Two ants who lived in London planned
> To walk to Melbourne overland,
> But, footsore in Southampton Row,
> When there were still some miles to go,
> They thought it wise not to extend
> The journey to the bitter end.
>
> Unfortunately, I find a couple of problems in Brough's
> translation. The first may be an idiosyncrasy of mine:
> one of the reasons the poem is a one of my favourites
> is that 'giving up on the last part of the trip'.
>
> Consider the following (comparable) case:
>
> I once wanted to write an exhaustive study of 'The Concepts
> "Reason" and "Rationality" in Post-Enlightenment Thought',
> but after some reading, and the making of a few
> preliminary notes, my brain began to hurt, and I thus gave
> up on the last part of the exercise.
>
> How often do we (well *I* do!) start on some
> (overly) ambitious project, and after a few preliminary
> steps abandon 'the last part' of the project (while clinging
> somehow to the thought that it is 'merely' the last part
> that is abandoned, and that those preliminary steps
> somehow constitute the significant portion of the
> 'journey')?
>
> Brough's 'still some miles to go' captures some of this,
> but I see the barbed point of Ringelnatz's 'the last part of
> the journey' biting far deeper with its placement at the very
> end of the poem.
>
> There is, moreover, an alternate interpretation to
> the poem which creates a far more serious problem
> for Brough's translation. He has 'walk to Australia
> overland', where Ringelnatz merely states 'travel to
> Australia'. Once they had arrived on the Chaussee (i.e.
> the Elbchausee), the ants had merely to walk down the
> hill to the harbour (Europe's second biggest) from where
> they could have easily boarded a ship sailing to their
> desired destination.
>
> So, while there were indeed still 'some miles to go', there
> was, in fact, very little walking left for those footsore ants
> to do - and the decision to give up on the last part of the
> journey may have been not so 'wise' after all. (This turns
> the interpretation I gave above on its head. Rather than
> giving up on a significant project after the first few steps,
> one underestimates the significance of the 'ground'
> already covered, and fails to see that completion of the
> 'journey' is perhaps far less arduous than one may think;
> indeed is comparatively a matter of a few more steps and
> then a little 'smooth sailing').
>
> A recent radio play for children picks up on such an
> interpretation, and has two ants, out to save the honour
> of the species (which has been somewhat tarnished by
> many mocking repetitions of Ringelnatz's famous poem),
> who do not (foolishly) give up at the Chausee, but (with a
> little help from a couple of friends) cross it and hop
> aboard a freighter which takes them to their destination,
> from which they send evidence (via postcard) of their
> accomplishment.
>
> Which interpretation is 'right'? (On the one hand ...; on
> the other ....) I actually prefer the ambiguity - and thus
> the 'ambidextrous' poking of fun in not just one but two
> ways at the 'wisdom' of (not ants, but) human, all too human,
> endeavour.
>
> Chris Bruce,
> Kiel, Germany
>
> P.S. I don't know how easy it is to get information about,
> and further translations of poems by, Joachim Ringelnatz
> (just one of the many pseudonyms of Hans Boetticher). I'll
> merely add here that he eventually became one of the
> bigger stars of the German cabaret scene during the
> Weimar Republic, was forbidden to perform by the nazi
> regime, and died of a lung ailment in 1934.
>
> P.P.S. I've just realized that a Ringelnatz poem was
> one of my very first 'translations from the German'. It
> was far from a literal translation, and came about in the
> following way:
>
> Some years ago a young nephew of mine sent me some
> of his (schoolboy) poems in a card of condolence for a
> broken leg. In return I told him how, when I went to the
> police station to report on the motorcycle accident which
> occasioned the fracture, one of the officers, on hearing
> that I had two metal pins in my leg, commented, 'Stay
> away from electrical sockets.' 'And lightning,' his partner
> added - and then proceeded to recite the following
> Ringelnatz poem from memory:
>
> Nach dem Gewitter
>
> Der Blitz hat mich getroffen.
> Mein staehlerner, linker Manschettenknopf
> ist weggeschmolzen, und in meinem Kopf
> summt es, als waere ich besoffen.
>
> Der Doktor Berninger aeusserte sich
> darueber sehr ungezogen:
> Das mit dem Summen waer' typisch fuer mich,
> das mit Blitz waer' erlogen.
>
> Here first is a literal translation:
>
> Lightning struck me.
> My steel, left cufflink
> has melted away, and in my head
> it buzzes as if I were drunk.
>
> Doctor Berninger expressed himself
> on the subject quite rudely:
> the part about the buzzing was typical for me,
> that about the lightning was fabricated.
>
> Here's David Cram's translation:
>
> AFTER THE STORM
>
> Lightning hit me with a thunk
> And melted down my stainless-steel
> Left cufflink. In my head I feel
> A buzzing, much like being drunk.
>
> My doctor, as a rule quite formal,
> Says an unkind word or two:
> The buzzing is, for me, quite normal,
> The lightning story isn't true.
>
> As I said above, this poem was my first bit of German
> 'translation' - I use the 'scare quotes', because I did not
> have a copy of the original at hand (and indeed was
> ignorant of its author) when I composed the following
> version of what I remembered for the 'edification and
> delight' of my young nephew. I have since (as you can
> see) discovered the original - I note that I remembered
> 'collar buttons' for 'cufflink' ('cuff button' in German), and
> am (surprise, surprise) far more verbose (5 verses to 2)
> than Ringelnatz. (In addition, I now see that I substituted
> a simple ABAB rhyme scheme throughout for the original
> ABBA ABAB.)
>
> A lightning bolt once struck my head
> and nearly fried my brain.
> I thought, "By rights I should be dead -
> or at least half insane!"
>
> But no - it only melted down
> the buttons on my collar,
> and left a most peculiar sound
> which made me want to holler.
>
> A frightful buzzing filled my ears
> as if I'd been out drinking,
> and so to calm my growing fears
> I was not long in thinking
>
> 'twas best to get the doctor's word
> to calm my worried mind.
> But, when my story he had heard,
> his diagnosis was unkind!
>
> "That's quite a story that you weave,"
> he told me, deeply sighing.
> "The drinking part I do believe;
> the buttons - well ... you're lying!"
>
> -cb
>
>
>
>
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