Autumn

Automne

René-Guy Cadou (1920-51)

Automne
Odeur des pluies de mon enfance Derniers soleils de la saison! A sept ans comme il faisait bon, Après d’ennuyeuses vacances, Se retrouver dans sa maison! La vieille classe de mon père, Pleine de guêpes écrasées, Sentait l’encre, le bois, la craie Et ces merveilleuses poussières Amassées par tout un été. O temps charmant des brumes douces, Des gibiers, des longs vols d’oiseaux, Le vent souffle sous le préau, Mais je tiens entre paume et pouce Une rouge pomme à couteau.
Autumn
My childhood: fragrances of rain, The season’s final sunny days, When I was seven years of age After the boring holidays, How pleasant to be home again! Old schoolroom of my dear Papa, The horde of wasps unkindly killed, The ink and chalk and wood I smelled, The wondrous dust, the plethora That all the summer months had piled… O charming time of gentle mist, Long flights of birds that hunters felled, Wind in the courtyard roof that hissed, Yet in my palm and thumb I held A bright red apple to be sliced!
My words have kindly been added to the video.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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venatorem hilarem vidi

I saw a Jolly Hunter

Charles Causley (1917-2003)

His English, my Latin
I saw a Jolly Hunter
I saw a jolly hunter With a jolly gun Walking in the country In the jolly sun. In the jolly meadow Sat a jolly hare. Saw the jolly hunter. Took jolly care. Hunter jolly eager - Sight of jolly prey. Forgot gun pointing Wrong jolly way. Jolly hunter jolly head Over heels gone. Jolly old safety catch Not jolly on. Bang went the jolly gun. Hunter jolly dead. Jolly hare got clean away. Jolly good, I said.
venatorem hilarem vidi
venatorem hilarem vidi, hilarissima armatum pharetra, rus hilare ingredi; fundit sol hilaris lucem. hilarissimus in prato lepus est nempe hilarissimo: venatorem hilarem conspicit anxius. o quam res hilaris! praedam hilarissimus urgens ille vagorum immemor arcuum delapsus subita clade hilarissima, cui tutela hilari nulla periculo. arcus prosiluit vis hilarissimi; venator periit morte hilarissima; evasit leporis forma hilarissimi; delectans hilari carmine gaudeo.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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I saw a Jolly Huntsman

I saw a Jolly Hunter

Charles Causley (1917-2003)

I saw a Jolly Hunter
I saw a jolly hunter With a jolly gun Walking in the country In the jolly sun. In the jolly meadow Sat a jolly hare. Saw the jolly hunter. Took jolly care. Hunter jolly eager - Sight of jolly prey. Forgot gun pointing Wrong jolly way. Jolly hunter jolly head Over heels gone. Jolly old safety catch Not jolly on. Bang went the jolly gun. Hunter jolly dead. Jolly hare got clean away. Jolly good, I said.
I saw a Jolly Huntsman
I saw a jolly huntsman With a jolly gun, Savouring a country Walk in jolly sun. On a jolly grassy knoll Jolly rabbit sat, Saw your jolly huntsman, Didn't fancy that. Huntsman jolly champing, Marksmanship in play, Forgot gun was pointing Wrong jolly way. Huntsman topsy-turvy, Hyst'ron-protty-ron, Jolly ward-lock guard-catch Not jolly on. Bang, jolly gunshot! Huntsman jolly laid Out for good. Fur got away. Jolly good, I said.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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A Year Later

Ein Jahr später

Otto Reinhards (1911-?)

Ein Jahr später
Es sind noch immer die gleichen Wellen, die gleichen Muscheln, was immer ich find. Es sind noch immer die gleichen Dünen, die Gräser, die Halme und auch der Wind. Es ist noch immer der Zug in den Wolken. Ein Hauch weht wieder durch mein Haar. Es sind noch immer die gleichen Brücken am Himmelsbogen wie damals es war.
A Year Later
Still the same waves And still the same mussels As ever I find. Still the same dunes And grasses and rushes And also the wind. Still the clouds pass. Again a breeze ruffles, Blows over my hair. Still the same bridges In high-vaulted heaven As ever were there.
Nothing else known of this poet. Painting by Hermann Seeger.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Time of Man

Tiempo del hombre

Atahualpa Yupanqui (1908-92)

Tiempo del hombre
La partícula cósmica que navega en mi sangre Es un mundo infinito de fuerzas siderales. Vino a mí tras un largo camino de milenios Cuando, tal vez, fui arena para los pies del aire. Luego fui la madera. raíz desesperada. Hundida en el silencio de un desierto sin agua. Después fui caracol quién sabe dónde. Y los mares me dieron su primera palabra. Después la forma humana desplegó sobre el mundo La universal bandera del músculo y la lágrima. Y creció la blasfemia sobre la vieja tierra. Y el azafrán, y el tilo, la copla y la plegaria. Entonces vine a américa para nacer en hombre. Y en mí junté la pampa, la selva y la montaña. Si un abuelo llanero galopó hasta mi cuna, Otro me dijo historias en su flauta de caña. Yo no estudio las cosas ni pretendo entenderlas. Las reconozco, es cierto, pues antes viví en ellas. Converso con las hojas en medio de los montes Y me dan sus mensajes las raíces secretas.
Time of Man
The cosmic particle voyaging in my blood Is an infinite world of astral forces. It reached me by a long trail of millennia When perhaps I was sand for the air’s footsteps. Next I was timber, a despairing root Sunk in the silence of a waterless desert. Later I was a snail, who knows where, And the seas gave me their primal word. Later the human form unfurled over the planet The universal banner of muscle and tears. And blasphemy flourished on the ancient earth. And saffron and the linden, ballads and prayer. Then I came to America to be born a man. And in myself I joined pampas, forest and mountain. If a plainsman grandfather galloped to my cradle, Another told me tales on his bamboo flute. I do not study things nor claim to understand them. I recognise them, certainly, for I lived in them earlier. I converse with the leaves up in the mountains And the secret roots give me their messages.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Auden ipse scripsi

Oh where are you going

W.H. Auden (1907-73)

Oh where are you going
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider, "That valley is fatal where furnaces burn, Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden, That gap is the grave where the tall return." "O do you imagine," said fearer to farer, "That dusk will delay on your path to the pass, Your diligent looking discover the lacking, Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?" "O what was that bird," said horror to hearer, "Did you see that shape in the twisted trees? Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly, The spot on your skin is a shocking disease." "Out of this house"---said rider to reader, "Yours never will"---said farer to fearer "They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror, As he left them there, as he left them there.
Auden ipse scripsi
sic equiti loquitur lector: ‘quo vadere velles? ~~vallis enim vivis ignibus illa necat. est fimus, infesti qua te furiabit odores; ~~in spatio tumulus, qua redit altus, hiat.’ sic pavidus: ‘peregrine’ inquit ‘cito faucibus instans! ~~num tentant tenebrae mox moderare moras? num vigil invenies vacui vestigia visu? ~~num, si stant lapides, mulserit herba pedes?’ ‘qualis avis fuit, auditor?’ modo dixerat horror: ~~‘arboribus tortis nonne patebat avis? te sequitur pede pernici furtiva figura; ~~in cute gutta tua desidet, atra lues.’ lectori sed eques: ‘proficiscere, tecta relinquas.’ ~~‘nec tibi pes...’ pavido sic peregrinus ait. auditor: ‘peteris!’ petiturque, ut dixerat, horror. ~~ille ibi liquit eos, ille ibi liquit eos.
Auden’s voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFQjnqV_byA Ned Rorem’s music: https://www.newworldrecords.org/products/ned-rorem-evidence-of-things-not-seen See also my lipogram.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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‘What spot do you aim at?’ by Wystan Hugh

Oh where are you going

W.H. Auden (1907-73)

Oh where are you going
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider, "That valley is fatal where furnaces burn, Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden, That gap is the grave where the tall return." "O do you imagine," said fearer to farer, "That dusk will delay on your path to the pass, Your diligent looking discover the lacking, Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?" "O what was that bird," said horror to hearer, "Did you see that shape in the twisted trees? Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly, The spot on your skin is a shocking disease." "Out of this house"---said rider to reader, "Yours never will"---said farer to fearer "They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror, As he left them there, as he left them there.
‘What spot do you aim at?’ by Wystan Hugh
‘What spot do you aim at?’ said bookworm to backload: That low strip is fatal as kilns hotly burn, It’s got a big dunghill, its odour’s a lungful, That gap is a tomb from which lofty folk turn.’ ‘O is it your notion’ said pallid to payload, ‘That dusk will hold back on your path to yon pass, Your small-tooth-comb looking track down what is lacking, Your footfall go groping from gabbro to grass?’ ‘O what was that bird’ said to auditor awful, ‘Did you spot that form amid twigs twisting thick? At your back swiftly that thing’s coming softly, That spot on your skin dubs you horribly sick.’ ‘Out of this building’ said backload to bookworm, ‘Yours will not do it’ said payload to pallid, ‘You got you a manhunt,’ said auditor, 'awful.' Your man didn’t stay, your man didn’t stay.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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You'll Never Know

Vous ne saurez jamais

MARGUERITE YOURCENAR (1903-87)

Vous ne saurez jamais
Vous ne saurez jamais que votre âme voyage Comme au fond de mon cœur un doux cœur adopté ; Et que rien, ni le temps, d’autres amours, ni l’âge, N’empêcheront jamais que vous ayez été. Que la beauté du monde a pris votre visage, Vit de votre douceur, luit de votre clarté, Et que ce lac pensif au fond du paysage Me redit seulement votre sérénité. Vous ne saurez jamais que j’emporte votre âme Comme une lampe d’or qui m’éclaire en marchant ; Qu’un peu de votre voix a passé dans mon chant. Doux flambeau, vos rayons, doux brasier, votre flamme, M’instruisent des sentiers que vous avez suivis, Et vous vivez un peu puisque je vous survis.
You'll Never Know
You'll never know your soul is one that roves Like a dear heart that mine guards deep within; Nothing, not time of age, nor other loves, Will ever change the fact that you have been. The beauty of the world took on your face, Lives in your sweetness, glitters in your day; The pond that ponders in its rural place Just echoes to me your serenity. You'll never know I bear your soul along Like a gold lamp, by which my path is lit. Shards of your voice have passed into my song. Sweet brazier, your flame, sweet flare, your rays Light where you walked, instruct me in your ways. Since I live on, you live a little, yet.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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A selection from 'Zoo Poems'.

Ogden Nash (1902-71)

His English, my Latin.
A selection from 'Zoo Poems'.
Some primal TERMITE knocked on wood And tasted it, and found it good, And that is why your cousin May Fell through the parlor floor today. THE COW is of the bovine ilk; One end is moo, the other milk. THE RHINO is a homely beast, For human eyes he’s not a feast. Farewell, farewell, you old rhinoceros, I’ll stare at something less prepocerous. I don’t mind EELS/ Except as meals./ And the way they feels. The POULTRIES Let’s think of eggs./ They have no legs. Chickens come from eggs/ But they have legs. The plot thickens;/ Eggs come from chickens, But have no legs under ’em./What a conundrum! You get some words regarding mice, You get a kitty in a trice. By two a.m. or thereabouts, The mouse is in, the CAT is out. It dawns upon you, in your cot, The mouse is silent, the cat is not. Instead of kitty, says your spouse, You should have got another mouse. The truth I do not stretch or shove When I state that the DOG is full of love. I’ve also found, by actual test, A wet dog is the lovingest. Behold the DUCK. It does not cluck. A cluck it lacks. It quacks. It is specially fond of a puddle or pond. When it dines or sups, It bottoms ups. The OYSTER’s a confusing suitor; It’s masc., and fem., and even neuter. At times it wonders, may what come, Am I husband, wife, or chum. The Lord in His wisdom made the FLY, And then forgot to tell us why. The song of CANARIES Never varies, And when they’re moulting They’re pretty revolting. The CAMEL has a single hump; The dromedary, two; Or else the other way around, I’m never sure. Are you? In the world of MULES There are no rules The PANTHER is like a leopard except that it hasn't been peppered. If you should behold a panther crouch, prepare to say "ouch". Better yet, if called by a panther, don't anther.
IPSE SCRIPSI pristinus est tarmes quia delectabile lignum, nunc tua perrupit Maia propinqua trabem. vacca genusque boum speciemque bovaria fertur; mugit ut ante pecus, pone homo mulget item. rhinoceros, oculis hominum non dulcis, abesto, foede! neque inspiciam postera posta prius. non piget anguillae. nihilominus haec duo juro: non sinere ad mensam, non adhibere manum. ova cano: pede egent. pedem habens avis editur ovis, ova ave. quid? pede egent. o dubia Oedipodis! uxor adest, domus est; mus denique. verba locuta in murem; rapide constat habere catum. nocte domi stat mus; catus errat. inhaeret imago: dum somnis careas, hic canit, ille tacet. ‘stulte! catum fallis damnosum’ ait uxor ‘adeptus : mus instar melius muris emendus erat.’ est canis omnis amans. nec fit violentia vero. hoc ego cognovi: plus canis udus amat. non anas ut gallina crepit; petit illa lacunas. quotquot edunt anates, exposuere nates! ostrea amans dubia est, quia mascula, femina, neutra est : ‘sumne vir, an mulier, sumne sodalis ego?’ musca opus est Domini. cur sit, memorare nequimus: mente Creatoris justificare cadit. non, fringilla, places. nunquam tua carmina mutas; plurima olet toto putrida pluma solo. unus utri tumor an duo sint, ego nescio vere: quotque camelus habet, dic mihi, quotque dromas. DEFICIVNT MVLIS RATIO LEX REGVLA NORMA es pardus, panthera, sed haud maculatur imago! ~ si panthera adhibet membra, ululare para ; murmura pantherae tua parce referre vocanti ; ~ si salit illa, time ; si sonat illa, tace.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Children in Love

Les enfants qui s'aiment

Jacques Prévert (1900-77)

Les enfants qui s'aiment
Les enfants qui s'aiment s'embrassent debout Contre les portes de la nuit Et les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt Mais les enfants qui s'aiment Ne sont là pour personne Et c'est seulement leur ombre Qui tremble dans la nuit Excitant la rage des passants Leur rage, leur mépris, leurs rires et leur envie Les enfants qui s'aiment ne sont là pour personne Ils sont ailleurs bien plus loin que la nuit Bien plus haut que le jour Dans l'éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour.
Children in Love
Children in love are embracing Standing at the gates of night Passers-by pass, point a finger, But the children in love Aren’t there for anyone And it’s only their shadow That shakes in the night Exciting the fury of passers-by Their fury, hate, laughter and envy Children in love aren’t there for anyone They’re somewhere else, much further than night Much higher than day In the dazzling brightness of their first love.
Musique de Joseph Kosma… Juliette Gréco https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jaCE_A2DmVE Raymond Voyat https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJT7181m6Po Yves Montand https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efcdCNPqd1g Fabien Loris (cinéma) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMWb-jLBvyE Sans voix https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rIazXgplTw

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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