Author: Timothy Ades

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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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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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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‘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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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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The Sardine

La sardine

Robert Desnos (1900-45)

La sardine
Une sardine de Royan Nageait dans l’eau de la Gironde. Le ciel est grand, la terre est ronde, J’irai me baigner à Royan, Avec la sardine, Avec la Gironde, Vive la Marine! Et salut au monde!
The Sardine
A sardine from Tamar or Tavy Went for a swim in the Fal. The sky is big, the earth’s a ball. I’ll go for a swim in the Tavy, The Tamar, the Fal, With sardine and all. Hooray for the Navy! What ho, one and all!
in 'Chantefables/Storysongs', Agenda Editions

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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The Leopard

Le léopard

Robert Desnos (1900-45)

from the book Storysongs/Chantefables: Agenda Editions
Le léopard
Si tu vas dans les bois, Prends garde au léopard. Il miaule à mi-voix Et vient de nulle part. Au soir, quand il ronronne, Un gai rossignol chante Et la forêt béante Les écoute et s’étonne, S’étonne qu'en ses bois Vienne le léopard Qui ronronne à mi-voix Et vient de nulle part.
The Leopard
If you go in the wood Watch out for the leopard He furtively mewed He dropped in and scarpered At night when he purrs Sweet nightingales sing And the forest infers It’s a wonderful thing To think that this wood Is the haunt of the leopard Who furtively purred Who dropped in and scarpered.

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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Springtime will return

Le printemps reviendra

Maurice Carême (1899-1978)

Le printemps reviendra
Hé oui, je sais bien qu'il fait froid, Que le ciel est tout de travers ; Je sais que ni la primevère Ni l'agneau ne sont encore là. La terre tourne ; il reviendra, Le printemps, sur son cheval vert. Que ferait le bois sans pivert, Le petit jardin sans lilas ? Oui, tout passe, même l'hiver, Je le sais par mon petit doigt Que je garde toujours en l'air …
Springtime will return
Yes, I know we have cold weather, And the sky is not playing fair; And I know that at present, neither The lamb nor the primrose is there. The world will turn, and the springtime Will return, astride its green mare. No woodpecker, what’ll the wood do? The garden, with no syringa? All things must pass, even winter: I know, by my little pink finger That’s always up in the air…

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Three Snails

Trois escargots

Maurice Carême (1899-1978)

Trois escargots
J’ai rencontré trois escargots Qui s’en allaient cartable au dos Et, dans le pré, trois limaçons Qui disaient par cœur leur leçon. Puis, dans un champ, quatre lézards Qui écrivaient un long devoir. Où peut se trouver leur école ? Au milieu des avoines folles ? Peut-être est-ce une aristoloche Qui leur sert de petite cloche Et leur maître est-il ce corbeau Que je vois dessiner là-haut De belles lettres au tableau ?
Three Snails
Three snails with satchels came in view, I saw their laden backs depart; and in the meadow, three slugs who spouted their lesson, learnt by heart; and then, four lizards in a field: long was the exercise they wrote. Where can their schoolhouse be concealed? Amid the scrub of the wild oat? Perhaps they have a calico flower to be their little bell, and could their master be the crow that I can see from far below, who at his blackboard writes so well?

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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