My Polish Poetry Translations

♂

Edited by: paczemoj Sep 22, 10, 23:30 #1

Hello,

I want to share some English translations of Polish poetry that I'm working on. It's a hobby and, as you'll be able to tell by the quality, I'm not a professional translator (by any means!). However, I try to choose poems that haven't been translated into English before. So, if nothing else, maybe I will raise some awareness and motivate someone else to do a better job.

:)

I'll start with one of my favourite poems in Polish, by Julian Tuwim. For some reason, Tuwim is hard to find in English. It's a shame.

Kitten
by Julian Tuwim

Looks the kitten, oh so sad.
“What, dear kitten, hurts so bad?”
Says the kitten: “bowl of milk.
Was all full, but now is dry,
Lack of milk sure makes me cry.”

Sighs the kitten: “purr.”
“What’s the matter, kitten, sir?”
“I was dreaming of a river,
Riverrun with milk and cream,
Flowing all the way downstream."

Kitten tongue: soft and pink.
“Drink, dear kitten, drink,” I think.
…as all curled up, with half-closed eyes,
Asleep—and dreaming drinks once more,
Milky dreams; and kitty snores.

Kotek
Julian Tuwim

Miauczy kotek: miau!
- Coś ty, kotku, miał?
- Miałem ja miseczkę mleczka,
Teraz pusta już miseczka,
A jeszcze bym chciał.

Wzdycha kotek: o!
- Co ci, kotku, co?
- Śniła mi się wielka rzeka,
Wielka rzeka pełna mleka
Aż po samo dno.

Pisnął kotek: piii...
- Pij, koteczku, pij!
...Skulił ogon, zmrużył ślipie,
Śpi - i we śnie mleczko chlipie,
Bo znów mu się śni.

ZiemowitThreads: 10 Posts: 1,063 Joined: May 8, 09 ♂	Sep 23, 10, 10:36 #2
It sounds really good to me. You seem to be perfectly bilingual and gifted in the domain of poetry. Have you ever tried to translate "Lokomotywa" by Julian Tuwim or has it been translated already?

paczemojThreads: 2 Posts: 10 Joined: Sep 22, 10 ♂	Sep 23, 10, 10:52 #3
Thank you. There are at least two English translations of "Lokomotywa". I would gladly post links or else send you a PM, but the board won't let me yet. :D I'll reply to some posts tomorrow and give myself some link / PM privileges.

♂

Sep 23, 10, 23:48 #4

Is poetry for the birds?

Bird
by Julian Tuwim

Bird on a branch did settle:
Chirp-chirping and a-flapping,
Sharp beak in soft feather wrapping,
Shrub was a shower of petals.

Then with a swish it took flight,
As branch left a-swinging,
Shuddering, joyously singing,
Its song: “fool bird you delight!”

Ptak
Julian Tuwim

Na gałązce usiadł ptak:
Zaszczebiotał, zatrzepotał
Ostry dzióbek w piórka otarł,
Rozkołysał cały krzak.

Potem z świstem frunął w lot!
A gałązka rozhuśtana
Jescze drży, uradowana,
Że ją tak rozpląsał trzpiot

♀

Sep 24, 10, 00:41 #5

The word 'translation' doesn't do your poems justice. Translations are not piece of cake in any way, but converting such tricky thing like poem to another language without losing its mood and quality - that's the achievement. And definitely you did it. Tuwim's poems are warm and cheerful, with soft melody sneaking somewhere behind the words - so are yours.

What else can I say, I registered only to tell you I'm totally in love with these 'translations'. Keep up the great work!

♂

Sep 24, 10, 05:09 #6

Thank you for the warm and kind words, Astra.

:) , I'm glad you enjoyed the poems.

As for Ziemowit's question about Tuwim's "Lokomotywa", there are at least two English versions available. You can find them here and here.

Plus, four lines of love poetry by Aleksander Fredro:

To Sophia
by Aleksander Fredro

Our love, dear Sophia, even time cannot thieve,
Beside you, Sophia, in immortality I believe:
When I hold and I touch, and I kiss and caress you,
I die and I live—only to die again, anew.

Do Zosi
Aleksander Fredro

Naszej miłości, Zosiu, czas nam nie zabierze,
Przy tobie, piękna Zosiu, w nieśmiertelność wierzę:
Kiedy cię mam w objęciu i na łonie pieszczę,
Konam i znowu żyję, aby konać jeszcze.

And a melancholy work by Jan Brzechwa, called "The Road". I'm not entirely satisfied with this one, but the original is very moving (it was written in 1943) and worth reading in the original, if you can. Brzechwa himself was either an interesting or "interesting" man, depending on your political / historical views...

The Road
by Jan Brzechwa

I walk the road unloved,
I walk alone—my shoes, my mud.

Full of bitter grief and sorrow,
Without a goal or guide to follow,

My heart: unease that burns and scars,
My home is close, yet home so far.

I see myself, both sad and poor,
Aimlessly down the road some more,

Of no use to anyone, I roam,
Come and go, but never home,

How much of life is left for me to touch?
Who knows. Too little or too much?

Snow to the left and snow to the right,
To the right a tree, to the left a distant light,

So I just walk along the road—walk, not run,
Abandoned and unloved by everyone,

No goodbyes ever spoken, no smiles await,
Darkness hangs over the nearby gate,

And I, waiting for this evening to fall,
Walk—a poet! How funny it’s all…

Droga
Jan Brzechwa

Niemiłowany idę drogą,
Idę sam jeden - bez nikogo,

Pełen żałości i goryczy
Idę bez celu sam i niczyj.

Złe niepokoje serce pieką,
Dom niedaleko, lecz daleko,

A ja tak smutnie i ubogo
Idę bez celu, idę drogą,

I niepotrzebny już nikomu
Idę i wracam - nie do domu.

Ileż mi życia pozostało?
Nie wiem. Za dużo czy za mało?

Śnieg jest na prawo i na lewo,
Na lewo słup, na prawo drzewo,

A ja tak idę sobie drogą
Niemiłowany przez nikogo.

Nikt mnie nie żegnał, nikt nie czeka,
I wisi ciemność niedaleka,

A ja, czekając aż się zmierzchnie,
Idę - poeta! Jak to śmiesznie...

♂

Sep 28, 10, 01:23 #7

An alternative* translation of Zbigniew Herbert's "Kamyk". Czesław Miłosz and Peter Dale translated the poem some time ago. I've used four of their lines (the ones not italicized). The others are mine.

Pebble
by Zbigniew Herbert

The pebble is a creature,
ideal,

a self equal to itself,
guarding its own borders,

filled precisely,
with stone pebblessence,

with a smell reminiscent of nothing,
It frightens nothing, arouses no desires,

its fervour and its cold,
are righteous and dignified,

I feel a heavy remorse,
when I hold it in my hand,
and its noble body
is permeated by false warmth,

—Pebbles will not be tamed,
till the end they will gaze upon us,
through quiet eye so clear.

Kamyk
Zbigniew Herbert

kamyk jest stworzeniem
doskonałym

równy samemu sobie
pilnujący swych granic

wypełniony dokładnie
kamiennym sensem

o zapachu który niczego nie przypomina
niczego nie płoszy nie budzi pożądania

jego zapał i chłód
są słuszne i pełne godności

czuję ciężki wyrzut
kiedy go trzymam w dłoni
i ciało jego szlachetne
przenika fałszywe ciepło

—Kamyki nie dają się oswoić
do końca będą na nas patrzeć
okiem spokojnym bardzo jasnym

♂

Sep 30, 10, 01:08 #8

Here's an attempt at the poem "Leń" by Jan Brzechwa. I've bastardized it a teeny bit, but I hope I've kept the tone and humour of the original.

The Slouch
by Jan Brzechwa

By the TV sits a slouch,
Spends his whole days on the couch.

“Oh, I certainly take exception!
What a dirty misconception!
For who sits by the television?
Who eats breakfast with precision?
Who today was getting going,
Ably watching grasses growing?
And who just now has spilt his tea—
“Oh! You see, you see!”

By the TV sits a slouch,
Spends his whole days on the couch.

“Excuse me, sir! But if you care,
Just this morning? Brushed my hair!
And then later lost a button,
Eating, chewing, licking mutton,
In the evening smoked some pot,
Or, I guess, that means jack squat?

By the TV sits a slouch,
Spends his whole days on the couch.

Didn’t go to school, because he’s too lazy,
Didn’t do his homework, his vision was hazy,
He didn’t tie his shoes, it was way too much work,
He didn’t say “hello”, my God what a jerk!
Didn’t feed his dog, the bowl was too distant,
Tried to feed his bird, but he just wasn’t persistent,
Meant to drink milk, but that involved pouring,
Was supposed to go to bed—didn’t—already snoring,
And in his dreams, that poor dumb bloke,
He worked so hard that he awoke.

Leń
Jan Brzechwa

Na tapczanie siedzi leń,
Nic nie robi cały dzień.

"O, wypraszam to sobie!
Jak to? Ja nic nie robię?
A kto siedzi na tapczanie?
A kto zjadł pierwsze śniadanie?
A kto dzisiaj pluł i łapał?
A kto się w głowę podrapał?
A kto dziś zgubił kalosze?
O - o! Proszę!"

Na tapczanie siedzi leń,
Nic nie robi cały dzień.

"Przepraszam! A tranu nie piłem?
A uszu dzisiaj nie myłem?
A nie urwałem guzika?
A nie pokazałem języka?
A nie chodziłem się strzyc?
To wszystko nazywa się nic?"

Na tapczanie siedzi leń,
Nic nie robi cały dzień.

Nie poszedł do szkoły, bo mu się nie chciało,
Nie odrobił lekcji, bo czasu miał za mało,
Nie zasznurował trzewików, bo nie miał ochoty,
Nie powiedział "dzień dobry", bo z tym za dużo roboty,
Nie napoił Azorka, bo za daleko jest woda,
Nie nakarmił kanarka, bo czasu mu było szkoda.
Miał zjeść kolację - tylko ustami mlasnął,
Miał położyć się - nie zdążył - zasnął.
Śniło mu się, że nad czymś ogromnie się trudził.
Tak zmęczył się tym snem, że się obudził.

McCoyThreads: 46 Posts: 1,756 Joined: Jul 3, 08 ♂	Edited by: McCoy Sep 30, 10, 01:18 #9
you do a great job but dont expect too much attention. too ambitious and non controversial stuff for pf. if you want to draw an attention make a thread about jews or what pisses you off in PL

NathanThreads: 33 Posts: 1,846 Joined: Feb 13, 09 ♂	Sep 30, 10, 01:35 #10
paczemoj: Our love, dear Sophia, even time cannot thieve, Beside you, Sophia, in immortality I believe: When I hold and I touch, and I kiss and caress you, I die and I live—only to die again, anew. Damn, bastard... ;)

IronsideThreads: 59 Posts: 6,783 Joined: Feb 26, 09 ♂	Sep 30, 10, 01:38 #11
In my humble opinion you are doing a great job with your translations, except for the last one, but it is a very hard nut to translate by any standards, so not bad, not bad at all!

TorqThreads: 65 Posts: 4,024 Joined: Apr 10, 09 MEMBER ♂	Edited by: Torq Sep 30, 10, 08:08 #12
Very good translations. However, as you've probably noticed, it's easier to translate poems for kids by Tuwim or Brzechwa than, let's say, works of Mickiewicz or Słowacki (I read an English translation of "Pan Tadeusz" and apart from being full of admiration for the translator, just for tackling the task, I was also appalled by how much the work lost in translation.)

♂

Oct 1, 10, 07:00 #13

Thanks for the kind and supportive words.

I think the newer the poetry, the easier it is to translate. 20th-century (or 21st-century) free verse is easiest. Rhyming poetry is harder than non-rhyming. As is poetry that relies heavily on the sound, and not just meaning, of words. Older poems use more obscure and sometimes archaic words, which means more trips to the dictionary.

Translating Mickiewicz or Słowacki or any other classic poet is difficult because people want to understand the meaning and "hear" the "sound" of the original at once. That's often impossible. So you have to choose whether to write something that's accurate and conveys the ideas and philosophy of the text or something that sounds better but is also less faithful. Most translations choose one over the other. Others try to do both and fail spectacularly.

Here's part of "Romantyczność" by Mickiewicz, with three translations:

Słuchaj, dzieweczko!
- Ona nie słucha -
To dzień biały! to miasteczko!
Przy tobie nie ma żywego ducha.
Co tam wkoło siebie chwytasz?
Kogo wołasz, z kim się witasz?
- Ona nie słucha. -

Listen, maiden!
- She does not listen -
This is a white day! This is a town!
Beside you there is not a living soul.
What there around yourself do you grasp?
Who do you summon, with whom are you greeting?
- She does not listen -

Listen, lassie!
- She listens not -
Day is bright! In the village!
Beside you there’s not a living soul.
What’s that you’re holding ‘round yourself?
Who are you calling, who greeting?
- She listens not -

Yo, girl!
- that bitch don’t listen -
The weather is dope! City is crazy!
Ain’t not one nigga playin’ you.
What’s that you got there?
Who you textin’, who you callin’?
- that bitch don’t listen -

;)

smithlangerThreads: - Posts: 1 Joined: Oct 1, 10 ♂	Oct 1, 10, 09:13 #14
sounds good to me

ricardobianco

Jan 31, 12, 13:29 #15

Coupé
© Richard Bialy

(BMW 328 Coupé 1936-1939)

It really is high time to
Note down this feeling I get
One I keep meaning to express
To some sympathetic ear
This nagging observation,
But to my considerable regret
The pen and paper are not at hand
And then it's no longer here

But this time I'm ready
And won't let it slip away
So let me get round
To what it is I have to say
I look at a picture
Of a BMW 3-2-8 Coupé
Says the bloody thing was
Made in Herr Hitler's heyday
You know, like nineteen
Thirty six to thirty nine c.a.

It's a clean-cut monocoque,
No separate sweep to the wings
No chrome-bowl headlamps,
Wire wheels or any of those things
It's so thoroughly modern
It really quite takes one's breath
So having reached such a degree of civilisation
How do you turn around
And put six million to death?

Except for the hat, the woman
In the picture is reasonably modern too
Just like the lamp posts and
The kerb painted a double hue
It's all so neat and tidy, the eponymous
Teutonic ordnung we know and abhor
What Jew, fag, gypsy or red could
Possibly guess what's in store?
So whenever I see some fine image
Come down to us from pre-war
I can't imagine its pre-dating that
Horror to whose allegiance they all swore.

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