Jacques Brel: lost in translation
One evening a while back, I began looking at old videos of Jacques Brel. The last thing I imagined was that the question of politics would rear its ugly head.
What an arresting guy! I became curious (as I often do) to learn more about his life, and so I started researching that, too. Somewhere along the line I came across this 2009 article by Graeme Thomson in the Guardian which makes the following claim about one of Brel’s songs:
La Diable (é‡a Va) is a song about western arrogance, colonial ghosts and bombs exploding on railway lines…
Ah yes, doesn’t that just sound like the Guardian? But does it sound like Jacques Brel?
Here’s Brel singing the song La Diable, with subtitles giving the English translation. It shows you what an extraordinary performer Brel was, how adept at creating a mood and character of great intensity.
In the lyrics there is indeed mention of bombs exploding on railway lines, but I don’t see or hear any talk of Western arrogance. In fact—well, you be the judge of what the song is actually saying:
Jacques Brel Ca Va Le Diable engl. sub. by lightning49
In the Guardian, Graeme Thomson also has something to say about the lyrics to Brel’s famous song “Fils de…”:
Fils De … is a deeply human anti-war song.
Well, it’s certainly “deeply human.” But there’s not a single word in it about war—anti, pro, or otherwise. Here are the lyrics in the original French, with a literal English translation; see for yourself. And here’s Brel singing it:
Song lyrics in translation do not necessarily follow the original text exactly, or even at all. With “Fils de…” it’s actually the non-literal, free-wheeling English translation of the song that contains what I assume Thomson decided are the anti-war sentiments, although his conclusion is a big stretch, even then. Here is the non-literal English version, which is really more of an “inspired by” than a literal translation:
…Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin
All of the children vanished too soon
In tow’ring waves, in walls of flesh
Among dying birds trembling with death
Sons of tycoons or sons of the farms
All of the children ran from your arms…
So long ago: long, long, ago…
But sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in lullabies
Sons of true love or sons of regret
All of the sons you cannot forget
Some built the roads, some wrote the poems
Some went to war, some never came home
Sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in lullabies…
A very slender thread on which to hang Thomson’s antiwar claim, and there’s no correspondence to Brel’s own lyrics at any rate. If you go to the link and read Brel’s lyrics to the song in the English translation, rather than the above re-interpretation, you’ll see that Brel says nothing anti-war in it at all. It’s about the kingdom of childhood, and it’s a much lighter song:
But son of your son
Or son of a stranger
All children
Are magicians
Son of love
Son of an affair
All children
Are poets
They are shepherds
They are wise men
They make clouds
In order to fly better
But son of your son
Or son of a stranger
All children
Are magicians
It’s not until after
A long time after”¦
Thomson must not have bothered to check out the French lyrics at all, which seems like a significant oversight—but hey, who cares when you have your own agenda to fulfill?
The clarity engendered by childhood innocence.
War is not the issue per se. Self-defense is a legitimate and moral cause.
If people want to save a few million human lives annually… Well, it’s a choice.
Half of the moral equation follows from the recognition of intrinsic or exceptional value. Without it, there is hypocrisy and corruption. Principles matter.
Half of the moral equation follows from the recognition of intrinsic or exceptional value. Without it, there is hypocrisy and corruption. Principles matter.
Mark Twain’s prayer.
It’s a noteworthy bit of business concerning translation: we’re always apt to lose something. All the more reason not to make of ourselves slaves to translators, or at the least to notice enslavement is a probability and therefore to be wary. Thompson’s carelessness is proof enough.
I wonder at the waltz meter, myself. Selling much, Mr. Brel?
Holding forth on the lyrics of Fils de (non literal) liberally, though not slavishly so, the song could be about:
Abortion — vanishing children
Mongering in fetal body parts — walls of flesh
Wind power – dying birds trembling with death
Generational gap — scions ran from your arms
Birth control — sons of regret
Wasp ethic — built roads, wrote poems
Indoctrination, inculcation – Children we lost in lullabies
Interesting that we should both think of Jacques Brel now. I’ve often thought that we are very similar in our tastes. (Except for ballet!)
One of Brel’s song is iconic in the Anglo Saxon sphere:
“Le Moribond”
here it became: Rod McKuen’ translation
‘Seasons In The Sun’
Not a translation really. His own poem put to Brel’s music.
Brel’s words are darker and while there is some sentimentality it conveys an absurdist existential angst …. something like that.
I wonder at the waltz meter, myself.
Sing along:
‘La Valse a Mille Temps’
Brel’s words are dark and while there is some sentimentality it conveys an absurdist existential angst …. something like that.
He’s a part of the Chanson Frané§aise, high literature put to music.
It is country music really.
Thanks for bringing it up although, I had happily forgotten the angst it brings up.
A ‘How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?’ kind of feeeeling.
Forget it, Neo; it’s the Grauniad. Can’t change them; can’t fix them; just don’t give them any money.
I don’t remember who said that the translator of prose is the author’s slave, but the translator of poetry is the author’s rival.
As poetry, the “inspired by” text is clearly anti-war. I don’t see how you’d read it otherwise.
They make even larger errors translating Japanese into English.
Who cares how the guardian portrays Brel? There are many other French musicians, actors, and authors over the last 40+ years
oops… last 40+ years who far out shine Brel. IMO Brel was a rather mediocre vovalist, muscian, writer, and actor. Pourtant, le gout est subjectif.
Brel’s translator was Mort Shuman, a New Yorker, who wrote hits for Elvis Presley and others before becoming a Good American and decamping to Paris. He wrote French language hits, so he knew what he was about, but he translatwed Brel with a free hand.
One of his more interesting liberties, I’ve always thought is with Amsterdam.
Where Brel simply has the sailors of Amsterdam “drink to the health of the whores of Amsterdam, Hamburg and beyond who have given their lovely bodies and their virtue for a bit of gold.”
Pomus has the emotional “They drink to the health of the whores of Amsterdam who’ve given their bodies to a thousand other men. They’ve bargained their virtue, their goodness all gone for a few dirty coins when they just can’t go on…”
Wow, where did those thousand men come from?
Brel gives us a funny pun “a votre sante” is a common French toast, like the English “cheers” but when a man wishes good health to a prostitute he is not a disinterested party.
Shuman gives us a whole morality play without any moral. Oh those poor girls, but it’s not really their fault.
There’s an interesting cultural difference there.
Interpreting poetry- brings back the horrors of English classes.
Meaning, schmeaning.
It’s all rubbish (in my obvious) opinion. The words and the music and who’s singing do not matter. It is all a very poor, populist, substitute for reading and thinking. The translated lyrics given by Neo above could have been written by a high-schooler…I wrote crap like that at the time and thought it was *(drumroll) poetry*. Which is why all this really took off in the 1960s. If you like the music or the singer’s voice you are more inclined to heed the words, and listen to it over and over.
Like “Give peace a chance.” Or Joni Mitchell. Or whoever. So today we have Rap; nice evolution.