[Jennifer Reeser]

Calm Sea

Sea becalmed! The sun’s bright radiance
flashes out upon the water,
and across this sequined ocean
drifts a ship down emerald furrows.

By the bridge there lies the bosun
on his belly, gently snoring.
By the mast, be-tarred and huddled,
squats the ship-boy, mending canvas.

Through the grime his cheeks are glowing,
splotched and scarlet; fearful twitching
strikes his opened mouth. Behold! how
pained the eyes so big and bonny!

For before him stands the captain
raging, cursing, screeching: Blaggard!
“Blaggard! Where’s my fish that you have
stolen from the herring barrel!”

Placid ocean! From the ripples
slips a saucy little kipper
with his tail fin gaily splashing,
seeking warmth to bathe his forehead.

But a seagull from the yonder
swoops upon the little kipper
and the prey is swiftly gathered
up and swept into the azure.


Original:
Meeresstille

Meeresstille! Ihre Strahlen
Wirft die Sonne auf das Wasser,
Und im wogenden Geschmeide
Zieht das Schiff die grünen Furchen.

Bei dem Steuer liegt der Bootsmann
Auf dem Bauch, und schnarchet leise.
Bei dem Mastbaum, segelflickend,
Kauert der beteerte Schiffsjung.

Hinterm Schmutze seiner Wangen
Sprüht es rot, wehmütig zuckt es
Um das breite Maul, und schmerzlich
Schaun die großen, schönen Augen.

Denn der Kapitän steht vor ihm,
Tobt und flucht und schilt ihn: Spitzbub.
»Spitzbub! einen Hering hast du
Aus der Tonne mir gestohlen!«

Meeresstille! aus den Wellen
Taucht hervor ein kluges Fischlein,
Wärmt das Köpfchen in der Sonne,
Plätschert lustig mit dem Schwänzchen.

Doch die Möwe, aus den Lüften,
Schießt herunter auf das Fischlein,
Und den raschen Raub im Schnabel,
Schwingt sie sich hinauf ins Blaue.

Crib:

Calm sea! Its rays cast by the sun on the water, and jewels billowing, the ship draws its green furrows. At the control the boatman is on his stomach, and snoring softly. At the mast, patching sails, the tarred ship youth huddles.
Behind the filth of his cheeks sprinkled with red, rueful twitches are around the wide mouth, and behold the painful big, beautiful eyes. For the captain stands before him, rages and curses and scolds him: rascal. “Rascal! a herring you have stolen from me from bins! "
Calm sea! From the waves emerges a smart little fish warming the little head in the sunshine,
splashing merry with his tail. But the gull from the air, shoots down on the little fish, and the prey swift in its beak, swings its way up into the blue.

[Jennifer Reeser]

“By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water…”

German Operative 10, wilkommen.

Smooth. Impeccable use of form. The flow is seamless, but “sun’s bright radiance flashes” might be a bit much, coming on too strong, as it were, at the outset. Heine was no Shelley, after all, and your phrasing is working against the mood of the piece, insofar as it sensationalizes what is an image of placidity in the original. I like “sequined.” “Jewelled” might be even better, particularly as the resourceful “emerald” follows. I like “mending canvas” standing in for the sail-patching. Again, “strikes” is too much tarting-up of the text which works against the mood. Rather than the twitch “striking” his mouth, how about, “rings his opened mouth…” more closely reflecting Heine’s “are around.” The poem sails from there.

007

[Brian Allgar]

I liked this, but I have to say that a kipper is a herring that has been split, gutted and smoked, and is unlikely to be found gaily splashing in the sea.

[Spindleshanks]

Pity about the "kipper," as Brian points out, but perhaps it's a regional thing where the word has vernacular use for a small lively fish. Nonetheless there are better choices. Why not simply "little fishie" which swims rhythmically. I note that it translates "Fischlein" which translates as the generic "little fish."

[Skip Dewahl]

By the shores of Gitchie Gumee, indeed! A little after-meal desert, but with a hint of child labor and devouring nature to chew on. I'll have a Longfellow Lite. Goes down easy.

[Adam Elgar]

Very nice to see Heine's trochees so adeptly replicated. Funny though, how they seem more natural in German than English. An odd little piece, treated with just the right amount of respect and seriousness. Maybe we can see the animate "kipper" as part of the joke.

[Ann Drysdale]

I love the swing of this. Spitzbub is the sort of word I want to put in my pocket to save for the right occasion. I want to keep it just as it is, but of course here it must be translated. I am intrigued by "blaggard". I have always heard that word in that context, but always spelt it "blackguard".

Kipper is a bit strange, especially as it was a herring that got stolen, which loads it with shades of fishmongery meaning that are perhaps not intended. Is there not a two-syllable word for a small saltwater fish? Tiddler was what sprang first to mind, but that's a freshwater option. Pilchard?

I am singing Die Forelle in my head (and I was left lamenting the tiny troutlet's fate) and looking for some sort of link between the on-board situation and the overboard drama. Is there one in the original?

[Martin Rocek]

Spitzbub doesn't have the slightly archaic flavor of blaggard, and is more playful--
rascal, rogue, scamp. It can be used to refer to kids. Translating it as blaggard does
fit the character of the captain, but that "Talk like a pirate-day" tone is not in the
original.

I don't understand why three different expressions have been used to translate
the same crucial word: "Meeresstille" --"calm sea", "sea becalmed", "placid ocean".

I also don't understand why "kluge" (clever) has been rendered as "saucy".
And I do agree with the objections to "kipper".

Nonetheless, the translation is fun take on a fun poem.

Martin

[Janice D. Soderling]

I agree with Martin about blaggard. Rascal or scamp seems much closer to the original tone.

I think the varied translations of Meeresstille is a serious fault. It simply means that the sea is calm (like in Dover Beach) and plays against the angry captain. It would work, I think to use that expression "The sea is calm." Which would underscore that the captain wasn't.

I want ship's boy, not ship-boy.

"Bei dem Steuer liegt der Bootsmann" would, I think, be rendered more correctly "near the tiller lies the boatswain" (or bosun) and that would get rid of that pesky "there"

It is easier to grouch than to translate. I do think this can become a very good translation if given a little more attention.

Too bad about that little kipper. It was cute, but wrong.




.

[Spindleshanks]

My thanks to all who provided me with some clear direction for revision with your comments and suggestions. It was a thrill to be included among the finalists, and a bonus to receive some scoring points. Thank you Brian and Katherine.

Now, a word or two in response to some of the comments.

"Kipper" was a mistake, which, in revision, has become "fishie," a closer reflection, I think, of the original. I did consider "skippy," which in this part of the world is jargon for "skipjack," but it was too localised and may have been confusing to those familiar with the '70's Oz TV icon, "Skippy the bush kangaroo." Couldn't have that.

In response to Ann and Martin, in choosing "Blaggard" I was influenced by three factors: The Captain's heavy-handed manner (raging, cursing, scolding) suggests a bullying, abrasive tone rather than playful. Along with that, it seemed apt to choose a slightly archaic term fitting to the era (early 19th cent.), hence blaggard over the more common blackguard. Third factor: alliterative value. The emphatic "b" features through the middle verses. I don't think it was an accident on Heine's part. However, I have revised to “scoundrel” which also has alliterative value.
In preparation, I was, in fact, struck by Heine's considerable use of alliteration in the original, particularly with the sibilants which are a strong feature throughout. I've tried to reflect that in some of the word choices I've used, such as the questionable "saucy," which, in revision, has become "savvy."

Martin further questions the variation on translating the title. In approaching Heine in translation, I've tried to analyse his intent and reflect it in the word choices. In this case, it seemed to me that the calmness of the sea is significant beyond the contrast with the enraged Captain, and a simple “Dover Beach” repose. In its first use, Meeresstille signifies the effect of a becalmed vessel on the crew dependent on wind for their progress to port. This is suggested in the prone position of a helmsman rendered redundant by the conditions, the stultifying task of the ship’s boy, the wrath of the Captain venting his frustration on the boy. In its second use, it signifies the deceptive nature of the calm environment, the illusion shattered by the swift end of the fish as nature reveals its violent underbelly. The calm sea is a deception; it has its downside. I’ve tried to convey those significations in the separate instances of the word. However, I take your point and the revision leaves it to the reader to make those assessments.

Janice suggests “tiller” for “Steuer.” While it would take care of the pesky “there,” Janice, a tiller is usually associated with a small boat, describing a lever directly connected to the rudder. From the context, both immediate and through the broader “The North Sea” segment, it’s clear that the vessel is a sailing ship with a crew and passengers, which would be controlled by a helm or wheel. I’ve revised with “wheelhouse.”
I’m unsure whether the revision should be posted here for further comment, or in Translation. Given the length of this response, though, I’ll play safe and post it on Translation.

Thanks again to all.

Peter