Apertado assim, Colado assim, Calado assim
(Vinicius de Moraes)The great Brazilian composer Antonio Carlos Jobim is said to have become tired enough of the translations of the lyrics to his songs that he himself, Portuguese/English dictionary at his side, tackled the immense task of translating into English his own original lyric to one of his finest masterpieces, “Aguas de Março.” This song, with its verses of piled-up images, was so dear to his heart that he couldn’t bear to have it butchered by another North American lyricist, as had been the case with some of his other well-known songs. During the initial Bossa Nova craze, these songs, and those of other composers, had been subjected to the process of translation so that North American artists could record them and satisfy the demand (both from artists and audiences). But, translation being what it is, namely, difficult, it was common for North American lyricists to adapt quite loosely the Portuguese version, and in some cases even to blindly steamroll over essential aspects of the original melody, in the process writing a new lyric with its own story, even its own new meter! This dubious process of “translation” resulted in English versions that disrespect and trivialize the work of some of the 20th century’s greatest composers of popular song.
Thus, “Garota de Ipanema” (Jobim/Vinicius de Moraes), a song whose main theme contains a beautiful natural syncopation and whose words speak of a girl “full of grace” who is more balanced than a poem and who transforms the world into a place full of grace “por causa de amor” (because of love), loses very essential things in its translation. In English, we’re now talking about a “tall, tan, young and lovely” girl who walks “like a samba” and makes everyone she passes say “Ah!” Also, with a wave of the lyricist’s pen, the girl’s intangible grace is transformed to aloofness (“she looks straight ahead, not at me”). Importantly, the syncopated main theme, originally stated in eighth- and sixteenth notes with two beats in the bar and a signature emphasis on the last sixteenth note of bars 2 and 4, is changed to one bar of four even quarter notes: its essence—its own grace, its own balance—changed so that English speakers can sing it and feel its meter.
In “Chega de Saudade,” (Jobim/de Moraes) the singer says “Vai, minha tristeza” (go, my sadness). But he’s not only telling his sadness to go away, he’s actually telling his sadness, his actual sadness, to go and tell his beloved that without her “não pode ser” (it can’t be), there can’t be peace, there can’t be beauty, but only “tristeza e melancolia” that will not leave him. He imagines her coming back to him, and from then on (when at the same time the music changes from a minor key to a major key) the lyrics are a brilliant tour-de-force of imagery about the ways the singer will embrace his beloved upon her return. Finally, he says, he’s done with all this business of living without her, of her living far. The English translation by Jon Hendricks is respectful of the melody (as befits the work of a lyricist who could set the most intractable bebop instrumental solos to words), but loses all of the urgency of the original song. First there is the issue of the title, “Chega de Saudade” (“Enough of Saudade”). “Saudade” is that famous, most untranslatable of Portuguese words, having something to do with longing, something to do with yearning, something to do with nostalgia, but something more than all of these and more. We all feel it, but it can only be said in one language. To translate saudade, Hendricks opts for “blues.” “No More Blues” is his solution, and in some ways he’s right on the money. The blues is that famous and most untranslatable American word for a specific emotion, a particular feeling-tone, something we all feel but that can only be said in one language. Perhaps translating “saudade” as “blues” is his master-stroke here, because from then on, the subject of the song is changed. Now we’re listening to someone who embraces the cliché “home is where the heart is” and who will refuse to travel from now on, and finally settle down and get a mate. This is all well and good, but it’s trite as it can be, and a far cry from the original.
As someone who is learning Portuguese, I can say without any question that it is a language whose sounds alone are very difficult to master, not to mention its words and its sentence structure, its colloquial expressions, its slang. But I’m beginning to feel that it is tantamount to an insult to impose our will as English speakers/singers upon the brilliant Brazilian composers who write with such a specific and inventive melodic and rhythmic language, and the lyricists who set these melodies and rhythms to a fluent and poetic Portuguese, rich in metaphor, deep with meaning and cultural significance. Just because we find it hard to say “não,” “João,” and “canção” doesn’t really legitimize being so cavalier with these great works of art.
It’s hard to imagine people from other countries seriously attempting to translate the words of Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter, Bob Dylan, Lennon & McCartney, Mose Allison, Joni Mitchell, or Jon Hendricks into their own languages. In fact, look for examples. You hardly ever see it. Listen to Caetano Veloso or João Gilberto singing songs from the “Great American Songbook,” or Milton Nascimento singing “Norwegian Wood”: these guys make a go at singing English lyrics in English. They seem to know and respect that the melody and the lyric go hand-in-hand; a song is not something you just dismantle at will.
Lately, I’ve noticed current artists* and friends of mine grappling with and mastering the original lyrics of foreign songs, and I hope in the coming years to hear more. It all speaks of a love for the delicate art of songwriting, and expresses respect for the profoundly inspired people who wrote those songs, and who ought to be forgiven for not being from the US of A.
*Check out the work of Lane Steinberg here on myspace.com for some particularly fascinating examples (www.myspace.com/lanesteinberg), or Esperanza Spalding’s version of Milton Nascimento’s “Ponta de Areia.”
posted by Anthony Wilson at 9:45 AM
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