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

More poems by Anon...

Bethany W Pope at the gym: double acrostic

Timothy Adès

Bethany W. Pope, poet who worked in a Swindon cinema, now teaching in China, keeps very fit, and is good at fencing. This is one of several poems about poets at the gym. The others are by George Szirtes, each written in the poet's own style.
Bethany W Pope at the gym: double acrostic
At last I’ve done my cinematic job, Doled out the popcorn, smiled at rudery, Obliged the arrogant, survived the snob, Unplugged the hot projector. I am free. Boots hide my kneecaps, and my black beret Looks cute to louts, to whom I’ll say ‘Unh-unh’, Easing my strength and love between the A And Z of Swindon life, till home is won. Come, haul my heavy sled, abusive guy! Ratchet my stepper up, the speed’s too slow, Or raise my press-up bar insanely high. P- Sychology and muscles: way to go! Touché! Lunge, slash! This is the life for me. P- Irate in space – that’s what I’d love to be. (Can’t count! The parodist’s catastrophe!!!!!)

More poems by Timothy Adès...

Heatwave 2022 and 2025

Grosse Hitze - mit Zusatzstrophe

Angelika Schramm (1940)

Grosse Hitze - mit Zusatzstrophe
2022 In einer Stadt namens Klitze Da herrschte ne ganz große Hitze. Dann wurde es schwül. Nun regnet es viel Und am Himmel gibt's Donner und Blitze. 2025 Auch in Hamburg, der Stadt mit dem Hafen, war's, als würde Gott uns bestrafen, zuerst schwüle Hitz, dann Donner und Blitz, aber ich habe selig geschlafen.
Heatwave 2022 and 2025
2022 A maritime city called Brighton had a heatwave so hot as to frighten. Very sticky and hot! Now it’s raining a lot, and it’s started to thunder and lighten. 2025 And on Hamburg, where ships find their mooring, God's anger came raging and roaring. Heat's clammy grip tightened, it thundered and lightened... I slept, I was blissfully snoring.
Image: Conrad Felixmüller - Gewitter über der Stadt 1951

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Angelika Schramm...

qout valet stipes canis in fenestra?

How much is that doggie in the window?

Bob Merrill (1921-98)

His English, my Latin
How much is that doggie in the window?
How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the waggly tail How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie's for sale. I must take a trip to California And leave my poor sweetheart alone If he has a dog, he won't be lonesome And the doggie will have a good home. How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the waggly tail How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie's for sale. I read in the papers there are robbers With flashlights that shine in the dark My love needs a doggie to protect him And scare them away with one bark. I don't want a bunny or a kitty I don't want a parrot that talks I don't want a bowl of little fishies He can't take a goldfish for a walk. How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the waggly tail How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie's for sale.
qout valet stipes canis in fenestra?
quot valet stipes canis in fenestra? vibrat, heus! caudam, quatit iste motam: quot valet stipes? mihi fit cupido venditionis. urbs petenda abstat procul Angelorum: mox procum nolens miserum relinquam. cui comes gratus canis adstet, ipse sospes et hospes. fertur, ut lexi, facibus latrones lucidis noctu peragrare pravos; sit proco custos canis, aptus hostem pellere latrans. displicent felesque cuniculique et piscium in sino pecus et loquaces psittaci. non is comes ambulanti, flave Carassi! quot valet stipes canis in fenestra? vibrat, heus! caudam, quatit iste motam: quot valet stipes? mihi fit cupido venditionis.

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

More poems by Charles Causley...

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 Subaltern’s Love Song

A Subaltern’s Love Song

Sir John Betjeman (1906-84)

A Subaltern’s Love Song
Miss J Hunter Dunn, Miss J Hunter Dunn, Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun, What strenuous singles we played after tea, We in the tournament - you against me! Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy, The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy, With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won, I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn. Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won. The warm-handled racket is back in its press, But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less. Her father's euonymus shines as we walk, And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk, And cool the verandah that welcomes us in To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin. The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath, The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path, As I struggle with double-end evening tie, For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I. On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with     sports, And westering, questioning settles the sun On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn. The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall, The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall, My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair And there on the landing's the light on your hair. By roads 'not adopted', by woodlanded ways, She drove to the club in the late summer haze, Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells. Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, I can hear from the car-park the dance has begun. Oh! full Surrey twilight! importunate band! Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand! Around us are Rovers and Austins afar, Above us, the intimate roof of the car, And here on my right is the girl of my choice, With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice, And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said, And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead. We sat in the car park till twenty to one And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
A Subaltern’s Love Song
Filia Venanti, castris te finxit Apollo,     tinxit et aere artus, pinxit et arte genas. strinximus undecima clavas (pila pellitur!) hora,     altera tu vehemens, strenuus alter ego! tu superas pueros motu, cita qualis hirundo:     laetor, inops puncti; ter, quater ipsa notas. risisti, pariter secura ac sedula victrix:     conficior forma, pulchra Atalanta, tua. filia Venanti, Venanti filia nostri,     palma tua est: uror, laetor, amore feror! conditur in prelum capulo modo clava tepente,     sed mea me victrix (stat coma!) semper amat. tendimus ad patrem. Venanti euonymus albet;     fundimus incepta, qua casa, verba via; porticus excepit zephyris; nova nuntiat aether;     iuniperus citro tingitur, apta bibi. sub thalamo lucet maculoso semita musco;     calda aqua mi resonat; conifer hortus olet. papilione agitor duplici: fas cingere collum!     haud aequi petimus, qua pila parva, choros. at tua braca chlamysque iacent, thalamique renidet     pariete lacteola plurima palma pilae. sol tetigitque trabem tingitque, Atalanta, fenestram:     occidit, exquirens quid tibi fata parent. Niliacae splendent species in pariete pictae:     aula micat taedis: nos rota parva manet. quernus ubi gradus est, ibi sum; laqueata supersunt,     crine refulgenti qua, mea vita, nites. autumno petimus - lora ipsa dat - aere turbam,     quo nemore, aedilis, non tua cura via est! venimus in vicum sero multum aere sonantem;     boleti et viridi germine pinus olent. filia Venanti, Venanti filia nostri,     sistimus: ingeminat coeptus in aure chorus. tibia nil cessans! perfecta crepuscula campi!     laetor, Amazoniam me tetigisse manum. undique circumstant bigae, procul undique currus;     clam nos sub grato culmine noster habet: naribus incurvis capior vocisque canore:     unica mi laevo dextra puella sedet. ecquid haruspicii vetat adfectare choreos?     fragrat odor pallae: conscia lingua tacet! quattuor in curru sub nocte remansimus horas,     tempore et ex illo sponsa Atalanta mihist.
Published in Oxford Graduate

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Sir John Betjeman...

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

More poems by Ogden Nash...

HUMORAGE TO PICASSO

Categories
French

HUMORAGE TO PICASSO

Roger Vitrac (1899-1952)

Et vive le pinceau De l’ami Picasso! - Apollinaire Cet arbre fait comme un tombeau, Cet astre comme un numéro, Ce soleil comme un escargot, C’est Picagot. Ce journal ni joli, ni beau, Cette sciure de gâteau, Ce double sein comme un étau, C’est Picétau. Ces cheveux poussant dans un pot, Cet œil pareil aux culs d’oiseaux, Ce marétal porte-marcheau, C’est Picacheau. Ce mou, ce dur, ce matériau, Moulé, pompé comme la chaux, Colorié à coups de plumeau, C’est Picaplo. Ce dos, ce pal, ce paletot, Ce récit mis comme un fardeau Sur la tartine de Toto, C’est Picato. Ce sol tout nu, ce ciel sans os, Cette baigneuse comme un gigot, Et ce cheval comme un sabot, C’est Pisabot. Socrate au torse de fourneau, Divisant le diamant des eaux Pour l’épingler dans un tableau, C’est Pitableau. L’allumette épinglant le faux, La faulx imitant le râteau, Pour peindre un rire à l’Otéro, C’est Picaro. Enfin, Napoléon changeant de peau, La peau changeant de poils labiaux, Et les poils changeant de pinceau, C’est Picasso!
HUMORAGE TO PICASSO
Our pal Picasso, Long live his brush-oh! Pirate and corsair, Here’s to his horsehair! [Apollinaire] This star like a digit, This tree like a tomb, This sun like a mollusc, Picasso, that’s whom! This nondescript newsprint, Twin screw-clamp bazoom, This gateau-crumb sawdust, Picasso, that’s whom! This plant-pot with hair on, Eyes like a bird’s bum, Top brass-knocker’s knapsack, Picasso, fo fum! This soft stuff, this tough stuff, Touched up with a broom, Pump-grind it to lime-sludge, Picasso, that’s whom! This topcoat, this back-stick, This talk, spread like lipstick On small buttered biscuit – Picasstic! This boneless sky, bare leafless view, Beach-beauty like a lamb jigoo, This horseflesh like a wooden shoe – Picashoo! This Socrates, stove-torso, Splits diamond-ice from water To prick a picture-pableau, Picorso! This matchstick pricking a mistake, This scythe that imitates a rake, To paint a laugh on Frou-Frou – who? Picuckoo! Last verse Napoleon’s fresh husk-oh, Fresh husk on the nap-oh, Fresh nap on the brush-oh, Picasso!

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Roger Vitrac...

A Simple Matter

Einfache Sache

Eugen Roth (1895-1976)

Einfache Sache
Ein Mensch drückt gegen eine Türe, wild stemmt er sich, daß sie sich rühre! Die schwere Türe, erzgegossen, bleibt ungerührt und fest verschlossen. Ein Unmensch, sonst gewiß nicht klug, versuchts ganz einfach jetzt mit Zug. Und schau! (Der Mensch steht ganz betroffen) Schon ist die schwere Türe offen! So geht's auch sonst in vielen Stücken: Dort, wo's zu ziehen gilt, hilft kein Drücken!
A Simple Matter
A man was pushing at a door, to move it, straining more and more. The door was heavy, made of cast iron, and just stayed put, shut fast. A brute, no intellectual, tried it quite simply with a pull: and look! the man was mortified: the heavy door had opened wide. and that is often the position: when pulling works, it's no good pushing!

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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