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Four Poems by Max Jacob
Translations © by Laura Prichard
Song Cycle by Francis Poulenc (1899 - 1963)
View original-language texts alone: Quatre poèmes de Max Jacob
Est-il un coin plus solitaire à cheval j’irai le chercher trop d’hommes sont au monastère trop de femmes vont au marché de livres à mon belvédère trop d’habits pendus aux crochets trop de papiers sur l’étagère trop de viande au garde-manger O! Narcisse o folie O ma tête à deux mains O Perse! O le pays de la rose jolie si tu n’étais là-bas j’irais te voir demain.
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Is there a corner more solitary on horseback I’ll go searching for it too many men are at the monastery too many women go to the book market at my belvedere too many clothes hanging on the hooks too much paper on the shelf too much meat in the larder Oh Narcissus, oh madness Oh my head in my hands Oh Persia! Oh the land of the pretty rose if you weren't down there I’d go see you tomorrow.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 by Laura Prichard, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Translator's note: a "belvedere" is a raised structure offering a peasant view of the surrounding areaThis text was added to the website: 2018-01-04
Line count: 13
Word count: 79
C’est pour aller au bal, au bal, au bal, au baïkal allah! au bal allah à la balalaïka Rades du tyran terre du Levant Baron du devant tirades nomme azur ce que la dame mazurke je t’assure que cette danse est turque nomades Est-ce bal à bord Est-ce bu en bottes on chante un foxtrotte les phoques se trottent faux nègres et, fausses notes Escouade Pars à des requins que fait Arlequin Pars en rat, pas rare sequin repas rare Parade C’est pour aller au bal, au bal, au bal, au baïkal allah! au bal allah à la balalaïka
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It’s [time] to go to the ball, to the ball, to the ball, to [Lake] Baikal by God, let’s go! to the ball by God, let’s go to the balalaika Harbors of the tyrant land of the Levant Baron of the speeches in front called blue so that the lady mazurka I assure you that this dance is nomadic Turkish Is this ball on board Is it drunk in boots someone sings a foxtrot-song the seals dance a seal-trot false Negroes and false notes Squadron Go to the sharks what's Harlequin doing Go like a rat, not a rare sequin repast rare Parade It’s [time] to go to the ball, to the ball, to the ball, to [Lake] Baikal by God, let’s go! to the ball by God, let’s go to the balalaika!
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 by Laura Prichard, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Translator's notes:
This is Cubist poetry, playing with the sounds of the words and re-ordering syllables for comic effect. The sound of the French poetry is more important to the comic flavor of the poem than the literal meaning. Max Jacob was a roommate of Pablo Picasso in Montmartre.
Line 2, passim : "allah" is a comic portmanteau here: "Allah" with a capital A refers to the Arabic name of God, and "allons" is French for "Let’s go."
This text was added to the website: 2018-01-04
Line count: 23
Word count: 133
Poète et ténor
L'oriflamme au nord
Je chante la mort.
Poète et tambour
Natif de Colliour
Je chante l'amour.
Poète et marin
Versez-moi du vin
Versez ! versez ! Je divulgue
Le secret des algues.
Poète et chrétien
Le Christ est mon bien
Je ne dis plus rien.
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Poet and tenor
The banner of the north
I sing of death.
Poet and drum
Native of Collioure
I sing of love.
Poet and mariner
Pour me some wine
Pour! Pour! I divulge
The secret of algae.
Poet and Christian
Christ is my witness
I won’t say any more.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 by Laura Prichard, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Max Jacob (1876 - 1944), "Poète et ténor", appears in Ballades, first published 1938
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Note: Collioure is a southern French coastal city on the Mediterranean Sea, near the Spanish borderThis text was added to the website: 2018-01-04
Line count: 13
Word count: 49
Dans le buisson de mimosa qu’est-ce qui n’y a? y a le lézard qui n’osa mettre ses yeux dans les oseilles la fleur dite le bouton d’or et le plant nommé sensitive qui me dit-on s’ouvre à l’aurore et prend la forme d’une olive Là y a aussi Hortense y a les boules azurées du céleste hortensia et la troupe argentée d’herbes folles de rire Dans le buisson de mimosa qu’est-ce qui n’y a le fils de la mercière et la fille du bougnat.
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In the stand of wild mimosa what’s there? there’s the lizard who dared not rest his eyes in the sorrel the flower called buttercup and the seedling called sensitive1 who they tell me opens at dawn and takes the form of an olive Hortense is there too there in the azure blossoms of celestial hydrangea and the silver troop of crazy weeds laughing In the stand of mimosa who’s there? the son of the lady cloth merchant and the daughter of of the coal merchant.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 by Laura Prichard, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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View original text (without footnotes)1 The Mimosa pudica, a fern-like plant whose compound leaves curl up when touched or shaken.
This text was added to the website: 2018-01-04
Line count: 17
Word count: 86