La casita que hizo Conchita

This is the House that Jack Built

Anon

Spanish words by Timothy Adès
This is the House that Jack Built
This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the farmer sowing the corn, That kept the cock that crowed in the morn. That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
La casita que hizo Conchita
Esta casita la hizo Conchita. Esta es la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el gallo que canta temprano, despierta a aquel cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Hay un granjero quien siembra buen grano quien cuida aquel gallo que canta temprano, despierta a aquel cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita.
A popular English nursery rhyme, more background on Wikipedia

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Lenten Light

Categories
French

Guillaume Cingal: Lenten Light

Guillaume Cingal

Comme février soudain rend Nostalgique, avec sa lumière. Au Trivial Pursuit on apprend Que le lapin a six paupières.
Lenten Light
Lenten light: sudden tricks: our nostalgic habit. Trivial Pursuit says: six eyelids on a rabbit.
Guillaume Cingal on Twitter

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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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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Said the Angel, ‘Strange, I’ll say, an angel.’

Être Ange c’est Étrange dit l’Ange

Jacques Prévert (1900-77)

Être Ange c’est Étrange dit l’Ange
Être Ange C’est Étrange Dit l’Ange Être Âne C’est étrâne Dit l’Âne Cela ne veut rien dire Dit l’Ange en haussant les ailes Pourtant Si étrange veut dire quelque chose étrâne est plus étrange qu’étrange dit l’Âne Étrange est ! Dit l’Ange en tapant du pied Étranger vous-même Dit l’Âne Et il s’envole.
Said the Angel, ‘Strange, I’ll say, an angel.’
Said the Angel, ‘Strange, I’ll say, an angel.’ Said the Mule, ‘Strmew, I’ll say, a mule.’ ‘That’s nonsense’, said the Angel, shrugging his wings. ‘Yes but if Strange makes any sense, Strmew is stranger than Strange’ said the Mule. ‘Strange, yeah’ said the Angel, tapping his foot. ‘Stranger yourself’ said the Mule and flew away.

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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My little cat

J’ai un petit chat

Maurice Carême (1899-1978)

J’ai un petit chat
J’ai un petit chat Petit comme ça. Je l’appelle Orange, Je ne sais pourquoi. Jamaus il ne mange Ni souris ni rat C’est un chat étrange Aimant le nougat Et le chocolat. Mais c’est pour cela Dit Tante Solange Qu’il ne grandit pas.
My little cat
My little cat Is little as *that*. He’s called Orange Pie, It rhymes, that’s why. He never will try A mouse or a rat, An odd sort of cat Who likes nougat And… chocolate. Ah yes! But that, Says my Auntie Vi, Is why he’s fat, And isn't high.

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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German Tale

Cuento Alemán

Alfonso Reyes (1889-1959)

Cuento Alemán
A la hora en que el gato salta sobre el tocino, en las vidrieras arde un rayo de oro fino y el Hombre de la Luna comienza su destino, en todas las botellas se oyó cantar el vino. Cantaba entre el bochorno de las obesas pipas que roncan y que sueñan que les saca las tripas el nocharniego pinche de las regias cocinas, terror de las doncellas y de las golosinas. Cantaba como canta el viento en las veletas, mientras los zafios duermen y velan los poetas. En sueños, la princesa, que lo oye cantar, en sueños se entregaba al gusto de bailar, mientras la dueña, gente de condición vulgar, se emborrachaba en sueños, que así suele pasar. El rey, como discreto, como persona honrada, el rey ... pues nada sueña porque no escucha nada. El rey tiene por barbas dorado vellocino, cual si las empapara en el dorado vino, y es su consuelo único y su mejor consejo tomar a cada rato un trago de lo añejo. Roba el tocino el gato. Ya trepa hacia la luna bebiendo las hebrillas de luz una por una: volar es cosa propia de la raza gatuna, si ayuda el plenilunio y ayuda la fortuna. En tanto, el regio parque se embriagaba de luna, y la luna se daba baños en la laguna. - Ay! viejo duendecito, prenda usía su vela! Diga: aquello que sube ¿es un gato que vuela? - ¡Ay, viejecita duende! ¿Para qué me desvela? ¿No sabe que es el Diablo que nos ronda y nos vela? ¡Bien haya el duendecito que todo lo sabía! A cada primavera, la barba le crecía. Desnuda la mañana su dorado puñal y canta el gallo de oro que hay en la catedral. Despierta la princesa rendida de bailar; la dueña, de beber; la dueña, de roncar. El rey, como discreto, como persona honrada, el rey ... pues nada sabe porque no sabe nada. La gente que a la plaza sale a ver el reló cuenta que el Holandés de las Botas pasó de noche por el pueblo, vaciando las botellas, hundiendo las tinajas y empreñando doncellas, y, como de costumbre, sopeaba su vino con su poco de queso, de lardo y de tocino. La princesa pariera un feísimo gato; la dueña confesara que se distrajo un rato; y el rey, como magnánimo, el rey, como sensato, iba desayunándose hasta limpiar el plato, y sin decir palabra gustaba del guisote, sorbía su cerveza, se chupaba el bigote; si bien no cabe duda que, para su capote, el rey ... nada pensaba, aunque nada se note. j Así tengáis salud y así tengáis fortuna, guardad a vuestras hijas del Hombre de la Luna! * * * * * * Hicieron estos versos cuatro monjes goliardos, de vidas vagabundas si de familias ricas, discípulos de Erígenas y alumnos de Abelardos - aunque no eran mancos, ni tuertos y ni cojos -, que, de beber, tenían volumen de barricas y cuatro caras como cuatro soles muy rojos.
German Tale
It was the hour the cat performs its bacon-grabbing spring, When across every window-pane fine gold is glittering, The hour the Magus of the Moon goes out adventuring: In every bottle, jug and flask, the wine was heard to sing. It sang among the flushes of the ample-bellied butts, That belch, and snore, and dream of being emptied of their guts By the nocturnal Scullion of the kitchens of the king, The dread of every kitchen-maid and dainty little thing. It sang the way the wild wind sings in the banners at the gate, While yokels take their beauty-sleep, and poets watch and wait. All in her dreams the princess heard the wine’s alluring chants; All in her dreams she yielded to the pleasures of the dance. She had a base-born chaperone, of very low degree, Who dreamed – it’s fairly normal – she was on a drunken spree. The king’s a man of honour, a discreet and upright king, The king – he dreams of nothing, for he doesn’t hear a thing. The king had grown a golden fleece that hung beneath his chin: Perhaps he kept a golden wine to marinade it in. This was his wisest counsel, this consoled him last and first: To swig whenever possible a bottle of the worst. The cat has pinched the bacon! and towards the moon it’s gone, Soars up, and drinks the little wisps of moonbeam, one by one: For flying is a special skill of all the feline band, Provided that good fortune and the full moon lend a hand. The royal park was all the while enraptured with the moon, Who took her time, enjoyed herself, and bathed in the lagoon. “Oho, my little pixie-man! Be waking, sir, stand by! Tell me, is that a flying cat that soars across the sky?” “Oho, my little elf, and would you rouse me? Can’t you tell, It’s the Devil haunts and harries us, the Devil come from hell.” “Protect us, little pixie-man!” He knew the whole affair; His beard grew long, and longer still, when spring was in the air. The daybreak from her scabbard drew her golden snickersnee; Loud crowed the golden cockerel in the Minster sacristy. The princess woke and rubbed her eyes, worn out from her contortions; The chaperone, from bibulous and stertorous exertions. The king’s a man of honour, a discreet and upright king, The king – the king knows nothing, for he doesn’t know a thing. The folk who saunter in the Square to view the clock, they say It was the Flying-Dutchman-Puss-in-Boots who passed this way. He went about the town at night, and drained the bottles dry, He emptied all the demijohns, and made the maidens cry; And, following the custom, in the tavern sat a-sipping Of his wine, with modest quantities of bacon, cheese and dripping. The princess was delivered of a very ugly cat; The chaperone was negligent, she took the blame for that; The king, a noble-hearted and sagacious man of state, Continued with his breakfast and completely cleared his plate; He supped his mild and bitter ale, and sucked his whiskered septum, And ate his meal in silence, not a single word escaped him. And there’s no doubt about it, that between himself and he, The king had not one thought at all! No comment – let it be. Here’s wishing you the best of health, the greatest good fortune, And keep your daughters locked away from the Magus of the Moon! * * * * * * * * Four monks composed these verses and they all were Goliards, They lived the life of vagrants, though their families were wealthy, Disciples of John Duns’s, acolytes of Abelard’s (Though none of them was maimed, or squinty-eyed, or that unhealthy); They had a gross of drinking-vats, a cubic chain of tuns, And four tomato faces like a clutch of scarlet suns.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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