Bake-off Dish C--"[...]Long-gone Ladies"
 

2015 ERATOSPHERE TRANSLATION BAKE-OFF
MAIN EVENT ENTRY C

Title:

"The Song of the Long-gone Ladies" ("Ballade des dames du temps jadis")

Lyricist and Composer:

French lyrics by Francois Villon (1431-c.1463); music by Georges Brassens (1921-1981)

Translator's Note:

These are two heroes of mine; Villon the subjective realist and Brassens the singer-songwriter with the same outlook, separated by centuries but singing together off the same hymn-sheet.

Sung Versions:

1.) French lyrics, performed by Georges Brassens
2.) The contestant's English translation, performed a cappella by the Top Secret Yodeler


The Competitor's Translation:

The song of the Long-gone Ladies.

Tell me where, in what foreign place
Is the lovely Flora-the-Roman
Alcibiades and Thaïs
Who were surely two cousins-german,
Or Echo who answers a hand-clap
Across every river and pond,
Much more than a mere human man-trap,
........But where does snow go when it’s gone?

Saintly Heloise, where is she,
For whose sake, ordained and castrated,
Abelard hid in St Denis,
By his love so cruelly fated?
And likewise the queen, known forever
For condemning poor Buridan
To be chucked in a sack in the river?
........But where does snow go when it’s gone?

Queen Blanche, immaculate iris
Whose voice drove strong men insane, or
Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice,
Aremburgis, Countess of Maine, or
Joan the good girl from Domrémy
Whom the English burned at Rouen,
Where are they now, Blessed Lady?
........But where does snow go when it’s gone?

Ah, Prince, whether weekly or yearly
Their fate is debated upon,
All you’ll gain’s this refrain, which is merely –
........But where does snow go when it’s gone?

Original French Lyrics

Dictes moy où, n’en quel pays,
Est Flora la belle Romaine;
Archipiada, ne Thaïs,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine,
Echo, parlant quand bruyt on maine
Dessus riviere ou sus estan,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu’humaine?
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?

Où est la très sage Héloïs,
Pour qui chastré fut et puis moyne
Pierre Esbaillart à Saint Denis?
Pour son amour eut cest essoyne.
Semblablement, où est royne
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fust geté en ung sac en Seine?
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?

La royne Blanche comme lys,
Qui chantoit à voix de sereine,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys,
Harembourgis qui tint le Mayne,
Et Jehanne, la bonne Lorraine,
Qu’Anglois bruslèrent à Rouen;
Où sont-ils, Vierge souveraine?
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?

Prince, n’enquerez de sepmaine
Où elles sont, ne de cest an,
Que ce refrain ne vous remaine:
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?

The Competitor's Literal English Prose Crib:

Tell me where, or in which country
Is Flora, the beautiful Roman;
Archipiade (Alcibiades?), born Thaïs (suggesion of transgenger – nobody knows for sure)
Who was her first cousin (or cousin-german, the expression is still current in genealogy)
Echo, speaking when one makes noise (I’ve not confused maine & main; I cheated for the rhyme)
Over river or on pond,
Who had a beauty too much more than human?
But where are the snows of yesteryear (Let’s let Rossetti have it!)

Where is the very wise Heloise,
For whom was castrated, and then (ordained as) a monk,
Peter Abelard in Saint-Denis ?
For his love he had this sentence.
Similarly, where is the Queen
Who ordered that Buridan
Was thrown in a sack into the Seine?
But where are the snows of yesteryear!

The queen Blanche (white) as a lily (iris is a more accurate translation. Says me)
Who sang with a Siren's voice;
Bertha of the Big Foot, Beatrix, Alice
Harembourgis who ruled over the Maine,
And Joan the good (female from) Lorraine
Whom the English burned in Rouen;
Where are they, Virgin Queen?
But where are the snows of yesteryear!

Prince, do not ask me in this week
Where they are - neither in this year,
Lest I only this refrain will remain for you
But where are the snows of yesteryear!


Commentary by Top Secret Yodeler:

I really enjoyed singing this one. Lucky thing--this song had the most aborted attempts and do-overs of all the entries. The melody line squiggles like a seismograph on its way across more than an octave (A4 to C#5), and it was very tricky to find places to breathe in that much-enjambed third stanza.

These five lines gave me particular trouble, due to unorthodox stresses or extra syllables:

S2L2: For whose sake, ordained and castrated,
S2L5: And likewise, the queen known forever
S2L7: To be chucked in a sack in the river?
S3L1: Queen Blanche, immaculate iris
S4L3: All you'll gain's this refrain, which is merely--


Commentary by Top Secret Distinguished Guest:

This entry definitely had the most entertaining prose crib. You've got to admire the sheer ballsiness of saying "Let's let Rossetti take it!" on the repetend. Fortunately, the translator's confidence that his or her own repetend could bear the comparison was well-placed.

Re S1L3, my edition of Villion contains this note:

Alcibiades appears as a character in several Platonic dialogues, and Socrates clearly has the hots for him; perhaps characterizing the Athenian general as a woman made these works more palatable to Church authorities. (I wish there were more of a citation for this, though, as I've never seen this note confirmed anywhere else.) Thanks to the diaspora of Greek scholars after the fall of Constantinople in 1453, translations of Plato might have been newly available in Paris during Villon's lifetime.

I'd never heard the "Alcipiades, ne Thaïs" line described as a transgender situation, with Alcipiades and Thaïs being the same person. The "ne" of S1L4 strikes me as an archaic "or", rather than the past participle "né", meaning "born".

I'd also never heard "cousin german" used in English before, but I Googled it, and lo and behold, it's actually a term of genealogy. I still think less arcane language would be more effective here.

The hilarious "man-trap" description of Echo in S1L7 is a bit too irreverent, but I like it anyway.

S2L4 ("By his love so cruelly fated") probably refers only to Peter Abelard's love for Heloise having ultimately led to his castration; however, I'm concerned that "by his love" might be taken to mean that "his love", Heloise herself, ordered this cruel punishment, just as Margaret of Burgundy was reputed to have ordered Jean Buridan thrown in a sack in the Seine. I hope not, since the castration was Heloise's outraged uncle's idea, not her own. I suppose the pair's love letters are famous enough that I needn't worry about misreadings, though.

I would have preferred "la très sage" Heloise to have remained "wise" or "learned" in the translation, rather than "saintly". Her brains were attractive to Abelard.

"Ordained" is not quite the right word for becoming a monk, since monks are not ordained unless they are also deacons or priests. "Tonsured", perhaps?

I can see why S3L1's "Queen Blanche, immaculate iris" posed problems for the Top Secret Yodeler, and I wonder if the weak rhyme with "Alice" is worth the change from "lily".

S3L7 ("Where are they now, Blessed Lady?") seemed a beat short on the page, but in sung performance the extra time spent on "they" underscores the word. This emphasis seems fitting to me, since Villon uses the masculine "ils" instead of the feminine "elles" for "they", and is thus talking about the English, now returned to either England or Calais, rather than just the ladies themselves (as often translated). I've long suspected that the poem is patriotic in nature, since the women named (with the exception of those in the first stanza and the invocation of Jesus's mother in the third) are all French.

Queen Blanche was probably Blanche of Castille, mother of Louis IX, saint and king of France, and the "Alis" mentioned here may be her sister, Alix of France; Bertha Broadfoot was the mother of Charlemagne; "Bietris" may refer to the Countess of Dia; "Aremburgis" is Erembourg du Maine. The finale of this list of French heroines is the greatest French heroine of them all. The English who executed her a half-century before had, indeed, more or less vanished from France by the time of Villon (except in Calais), and that would probably still have been a source of French pride.

This military interpretation also seems in keeping with more traditional ubi sunt ("Where are they now? In their graves, that's where!") poems, which sometimes lament the loss of whole generations of young men to war.

But "Where are they now, Blessed Lady?" still seems a beat short on the page, so it really needs the performance in order to work.

A stray "I" has somehow wandered into the third line of the crib of S4.

Kudos to the translator for preserving the ballade rhyme scheme to this extent. The capital letters denote feminine (two-syllable) rhymes:

ababCdCd / eFeFGdGd / hIhIJdJd / KdKd /

This is a fairly close approximation of the rhyme-rich original:

aBaBBcBc / aBaBBcBc / aBaBBcBc / BcBc /

I particularly liked this translator's preservation of so many feminine rhymes. The Top Secret Yodeler may not have liked all the enjambment in the third stanza, including the "insane, or" / "Maine, or" rhyme, but I did. The two-syllable rhymes kept the original's pleasant lilt.

Since this one started as a poem before being made into a song, I have to say that I think the music is a bit of a letdown compared to the others so far. This is a pretty good translation of the original poem, but I don't think it gains all that much by being sung.

Susan

My first impression of this song, without delving into the nitty gritty of the translation, is that it is lovely, really lovely, both in the French of the poet and the composer and in the English translation as sung by the D.G.
The poem is clever and fun, the melody sounds as if it were contemporary with the poem. I think that is a feat. I am glad to have been introduced to this song's lyrics and its music, its poet and composer and I really like the D.G.'s rendering. The voice is particularly fine for this song with its lilting, dance and ballad like melody.
It will take me a while to be able to tell how well the translation fits the music, it sounds singable with a few squeezes here and there.

I have to start off by saying the Translator gets a few points from me just for saying Villon is his/her hero. He's not my hero, but it would not be too much to say he is the love of my life! I also like Brassens; in fact I came to know him because someone, knowing my passion for Villon, recommended the song to me. That said, I have to admit I do not like Brassens' setting of the poem. it's quite pleasant and charming to listen to, but I think if you didn't already know and understand the lyrics, you wouldn't get any sense what the poem is about! The light, bouncy melody gives the lyrics a sassy, almost tongue-in-cheek quality, which belies the power and poignance and eloquence of the original.

I have some comments about the translation. The language is somewhat inconsistent, mixing contemporary and colloquial vocabulary with a higher, more literary diction. Oddly, the colloquialisms "man-trap," "chucked' "drove strong men insane" etc. work better with the melody than do Villon's lyrics, since they match Brassen's more lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek interpretation.

"Cousin-German" may indeed be a genealogical term, but who gets it, let alone says it? In fact, I believe he is not saying they were actual cousins, but two of a kind. Anyway, why not just "cousin" which is just as good of a rhyme. Heloise was very wise, but no saint. Iris?-- Nah! As far as translating Villon, "where does snow go when it's gone,?" lacks the power of Villon's haunting refrain but does go better with the lightheartedness of Brassen's melody. The same can be said for the title.

So for me, there's a weird duality going on. Overall, it's a decent translation, but as a translation of Villon, I feelthe poem needs a more consistently poetic diction.

On the other hand, as song lyrics for Brassen's melody, I would go more in the direction of a snappier, more contemporary feeling, as in the examples I cited above.

As far as matching the lyrics to the melody, I think there are some glitches. There are places where the words don't flow right, where they are too scrunched up together, where they are simply not lyrical enough to match the music. I'm thinking particularly of S1 L5-7, S2 L1-2, and the envoy, where you could see, despite her valiant efforts, even the Yodeler had a hard time squeezing them in.

Oh yeah, another weird thing. I found the Yodeler's performance more compelling and more faithful to Villon's spirit then Brassen's. Maybe because of the pure soprano, or the a cappella performance but for me it came forth as more ethereal, solemn, and somehow more medieval. Brava!

I agree that "cousins" is close enough for a rhyme with "Roman." The "Archipiada" presents a serious problem, though the footnote, which I've seen before, gives an adequate explanation. The G. D. R. translation is a great one, even though he fudges on the ballade's rhyme scheme. I translated this one many years ago, but I still think that Wilbur's version is the best one around.

Are they "long-gone ladies" or ladies of yesteryear, ladies of a bygone era (temps jadis). In other words, I don't like the way the title was translated. As well, it's a ballad. Why call it a "song"?

I also think the repetend as translated in English doesn't have the punch (and brevity) of the French original.

I guess I'm also spoiled by the Wilbur translation and also by my absolute love of the French original. Unsung.

The first line "Tell me where, in what foreign place" is off-meter, which as scanned in the French goes something like TAH tuh TAH TAH, tuh TAH tuh TAH, and there are a few more, but not enough to detract from from the overall skill seen here, but I'm afraid "Much more than a mere human man-trap", is a bit much for "Qui beauté eut trop plus qu’humaine?", likewise "Saintly Heloise," and a few more, but I for one like the refrain
"But where does snow go when it’s gone?" Wish I'd've thought of it when I did my translation. Much work went into the whole and ample praise is due, however.

This is a really tough nut to crack. First, since this was a poem before it was a song (as far as we know), we expect it to be translated as a poem, requiring closer fidelity to the imagery and tone--and for me the translation comes of as almost flippant, lacking the elegaic quality of the original. Of course, as Marion already says, this is encouraged by Brassens' light hearted melody, but overall, this is not my favorite.

Once more, I offer my appreciation to the Yodeler!

Between all the women's names and the feminine rhymes, translating this to make it singable to Brassens' tune is a fiendishly difficult task. For me, some of the two-syllable rhymes play havoc with the tone, particularly "hand-clap" and "man-trap." The line "All you'll gain's this refrain, which is merely" seems particularly hard for the yodeler to sing in rhythm. This is an ambitious effort that doesn't quite come off for me.

Valiant effort, but it does end up a strange hodgepodge of ancient and modern. One minor nit with the refrain is that I think the French use 'mais' differently and more widely than the English use 'but', and I would be tempted to either drop it or change it to 'and'. But I could be wrong. I do like the quirkiness of 'where does snow go when it's gone?' even if it doesn't convey the precise overtones of the original.

Alas, this one's a bit of a train-wreck. Brassens' cheerful strum-along is overstuffed with English syllables. The yodeller did her best, but it's unsaveable.

When I first read this, and saw that famous line translated as

But where does snow go when it’s gone?

my first reaction was "Well, it doesn't go anywhere, it just melts." This is a far cry from

Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?

There's a further problem with this line. It's metrically "off". You may wonder what I mean, since on paper it's regular tetrameter. But one of the pitfalls of setting words to an existing melody is that things that seem fine on paper may not actually match the notes. Ensuring that stressed syllables don't fall on unaccented notes, and vice versa, is what makes this exercise so difficult. So this line comes out as

"But where does snow go when it's gone"

instead of (on paper) the natural phrasing

"But where does snow go when it's gone"

Mind you, Brassens himself, in his rather anodyne song, makes pretty much the same mistake by putting the second syllable of "neig-es" on an accented note.

There are other examples of metrical confusion between words and music in this translation, but I'll leave it at that.

Brian, there is TOTAL metrical confusion. Your remark "But one of the pitfalls of setting words to an existing melody is that things that seem fine on paper may not actually match the notes" is woefully accurate. My method for "ensuring that stressed syllables don't fall on unaccented notes, and vice versa" was - well - singing them into submission until (I thought) it worked. Is that "rubato"?

I entered this in a hurry when the call was getting desperate and before the deadline was extended etc. I'd been doing sing-alonga-Projet Brassens with it and was rather chuffed with how I'd whittled the translation to fit the tune, totally unaware that it didn't. Oh, Yodeller, I'm so sorry.

Snap!!! :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:

I don't normally use those things, but just this once ...

Brian - just this once?

Last time I looked at that post there was only one of the eeky beasties. Now there are three. The buggers are breeding!

Well, since I was indulging myself in something I would normally avoid, I thought I might as well make a pig of myself.

Pssst! Don't look over your shoulder, but ...

But have no fear. It seems that we are limited to five images, so the plague is self-limiting.