Posts Tagged ‘Mark Statman’

Andries Bezuidenhout. Om Lorca musikaal te vertaal

Tuesday, September 1st, 2009

Ek skoffel in Melbourne se boekwinkels rond; spoor ʼn bundel op met vertalings van Federico García Lorca op – spesifiek sy gedigte oor New York. Die bundel het die oorspronklike Spaanse gedigte aan die linkerkant met vertalings in Engels deur Pablo Medina en Mark Statman aan die regterkant. Alhoewel my ouer broer Nick sopas van Suid-Amerika teruggekeer het, waar hy leer Spaans praat het, is ek heel in die duister as dit by hierdie taal kom. As ʼn mens egter die gedigte lees (in my geval waarskynlik met ʼn swaar Afrikaanse aksent), kan jy die musikaliteit hoor.

Toevallig spoor ek ook ʼn boek met Leonard Cohen se lirieke en kitaarakkoorde op – The Little Black Songbook. Een van die lirieke, “Take this Waltz”, is natuurlik op ʼn gedig van Lorca gebaseer. Hier onder is Pequeño Vals Vienés – Klein Weense Walsie – in Spaans, met Medina en Statman se vertaling daarvan, asook Leonard Cohen se “Take this Waltz”.

Cohen se aanslag is uit die aard van die saak meer musikaal. Die direkte vertaling verloor die rym, terwyl Cohen daarin slaag om sy liriek in rymwoorde te laat sing. Cohen vertaal ook die metafore metafories, in plaas van letterlik. Is dit oor Jennifer Warnes se pragtige stem in die opname dat ek so daarvan hou?

PEQUEÑO VALS VIENÉS
Federico García Lorca

En Viena hay diez muchachas,
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas.
     ¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals con la boca cerrada.

Este vals, este vals, este vals, este vals,
de sí, de muerte y de coñac
que moja su cola en el mar.

Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero,
con la butaca y el libro muerto,
por el melancólico pasillo,
en el oscuro desván del lirio,
en nuestra cama de la luna
y en la danza que sueña la tortuga.
     ¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de quebrada cintura.

En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y los ecos.
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
Hay mendigos por los tejados,
hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto.
     ¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals que se muere en mis brazos.

Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mío,
en el desván donde juegan los niños,
soñando viejas luces de Hungría
por los rumores de la tarde tibia,
viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve
por el silencio oscuro de tu frente.
     ¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals, este vals del “Te quiero siempre”.

En Viena bailaré contigo
con un disfraz que tenga
cabeza de río.
¡Mira qué orillas tengo de jacintos!
Dejaré mi boca entre tus piernas,
mi alma en fotografías y azucenas,
y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar
quiero, amor mío, amor mío, dejar,
violín y sepulcro, las cintas del vals. 

SMALL VIENNESE WALTZ
Federico García Lorca, soos vertaal deur Pablo Medina en Mark Statman.

In Vienna there are ten girls,
a shoulder on which death is sobbing
and a forest of dried-out pigeons.
There is a fragment of morning
in the museum of frost.
There is a salon with a thousand windows.
     Ay!
Take this waltz with your mouth closed.

This waltz, this waltz,
about itself, about death and cognac
that wets its tail in the sea.

I love you, I love you,
with the armchair and the dead book,
through the melancholy hallway,
in the dark attic of lilies,
on our bed of the moon
and the dance dreamed by the tortoise.
     Ay!
Take this waltz of the broken waist.

In Vienna there are four mirrors
where your mouth and the echoes play.
There is death for the piano
that paints the boys blue.
There are beggars on rooftops.
There are fresh garlands of weeping.
     Ay!
Take this waltz that dies in my arms.

Because I want you, my love,
in the attic where the children play,
dreaming of the old lights of Hungary
through the rumours of the warm afternoon,
seeing lambs and lilies of snow,
in the dark silence of your forehead.
     Ay!
Take this waltz called “I love you always.”

In Vienna I’ll dance with you
wearing a disguise
with the head of a river.
Look at the hyacinth shores I wear!
I will leave my mouth between your legs,
my soul in photographs and white lilies.
In the dark waves of your journey
I want, my love, to leave
– violin and tomb – the ribbons of waltz.

 

TAKE THIS WALTZ
Leonard Cohen se verwerking van Federico García Lorca se “Pequeño Vals Vienés.”

Now in Vienna there’s ten pretty women
There’s a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows
There’s a tree where the doves go to die
There’s a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jawsOh I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallways where love’s never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay

Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your handThis waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea

There’s a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There’s a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They’ve been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz it’s been dying for years

There’s an attic where children are playing
Where I’ve got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I’ll see what you’ve chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snow
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its “I’ll never forget you, you know!”

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz …

And I’ll dance with you in Vienna
I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you’ll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It’s yours now. It’s all that there is