Post by Bonobo on Oct 10, 2010 9:16:35 GMT 1
Julian Tuwim (September 13, 1894 – December 27, 1953) (the surname comes from the Hebrew "טובים", "tovim", "good"); was one of the greatest Polish poets, born in Łódź, Congress Poland, Russian Empire, of Jewish parents, and educated in Łódź and Warsaw where he studied law and philosophy at Warsaw University. In 1919 Tuwim co-founded the Skamander group of experimental poets with Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz. He was a major figure in Polish literature, and was also known for his contribution to children's literature.
From the very beginning and throughout his artistic career, Tuwim was satirically inclined. He supplied sketches and monologues to numerous cabarets. In his poetry and columns, he derided obscurantism and bureaucracy as well as militaristic and nationalistic trends in politics. His best satiric poem is regarded to be the burlesque, "Bal w Operze" (The Ball at the Opera, 1936).
In 1918 Tuwim co-founded the cabaret, "Picador", and worked as a writer or artistic director with many other cabarets such as "Czarny kot" (Black Cat 1917–1919), "Qui pro Quo" (1919–1932), "Banda" The Gang and "Stara Banda" The Old Gang (1932–1935) and finally "Cyrulik Warszawski" (Barber of Warsaw 1935–1939). Since 1924 Tuwim was a staff writer at "Wiadomości Literackie" (Literary News) where he wrote a weekly column "Camera Obscura". He also wrote for the satirical magazine "Szpilki" (Pins).
Tuwim displayed his caustic sense of humor and unyielding individuality in works such as "Poem in which the author politely yet firmly implores the vast hosts of his brethren to kiss his arse." Here, Tuwim systematically enumerates and caricatures various personae inhabiting European social scene of the mid-1930s -- 'perfumed café intellectuals', 'drab socialists', 'fascist jocks', 'Zionist doctors', 'repressed Catholics' and so on, and ends each stanza by asking each to perform the action indicated in the title. The poem ends with a note to the would-be censor who would surely be tempted to expunge all mention of this piece for its breach of 'public standards.' This stanza ends just like the others as the censor fulfills his role.
More:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_Tuwim
This poem is known to every Polish child.
The Locomotive
A big locomotive has pulled into town,
Heavy, humungus, with sweat rolling down,
A plump jumbo olive.
Huffing and puffing and panting and smelly,
Fire belches forth from her fat cast iron belly.
Poof, how she's burning,
Oof, how she's boiling,
Puff, how she's churning,
Huff, how she's toiling.
She's fully exhausted and all out of breath,
Yet the coalman continues to stoke her to death.
Numerous wagons she tugs down the track:
Iron and steel monsters hitched up to her back,
All filled with people and other things too:
The first carries cattle, then horses not few;
The third car with corpulent people is filled,
Eating fat frankfurters all freshly grilled.
The fourth car is packed to the hilt with bananas,
The fifth has a cargo of six grand pi-an-as.
The sixth wagon carries a cannon of steel,
With heavy iron girders beneath every wheel.
The seventh has tables, oak cupboards with plates,
While an elephant, bear, two giraffes fill the eighth.
The ninth contains nothing but well-fattened swine,
In the tenth: bags and boxes, now isn't that fine?
There must be at least forty cars in a row,
And what they all carry -- I simply don't know:
But if one thousand athletes, with muscles of steel,
Each ate one thousand cutlets in one giant meal,
And each one exerted as much as he could,
They'd never quite manage to lift such a load.
First a toot!
Then a hoot!
Steam is churning,
Wheels are turning!
More slowly - than turtles - with freight - on their - backs,
The drowsy - steam engine - sets off - down the tracks.
She chugs and she tugs at her wagons with strain,
As wheel after wheel slowly turns on the train.
She doubles her effort and quickens her pace,
And rambles and scrambles to keep up the race.
Oh whither, oh whither? go forward at will,
And chug along over the bridge, up the hill,
Through mountains and tunnels and meadows and woods,
Now hurry, now hurry, deliver your goods.
Keep up your tempo, now push along, push along,
Chug along, tug along, tug along, chug along
Lightly and sprightly she carries her freight
Like a ping-pong ball bouncing without any weight,
Not heavy equipment exhausted to death,
But a little tin toy, just a light puff of breath.
Oh whither, oh whither, you'll tell me, I trust,
What is it, what is it that gives you your thrust?
What gives you momentum to roll down the track?
It's hot steam that gives me my clickety-clack.
Hot steam from the boiler through tubes to the pistons,
The pistons then push at the wheels from short distance,
They drive and they push, and the train starts a-swooshin'
'Cuz steam on the pistons keeps pushin' and pushin';
The wheels start a rattlin', clatterin', chatterin'
Chug along, tug along, chug along, tug along! . . . . .
LOKOMOTYWA
Stoi na stacji lokomotywa,
Ciężka, ogromna i pot z niej spływa -
Tłusta oliwa.
Stoi i sapie, dyszy i dmucha,
Żar z rozgrzanego jej brzucha bucha:
Buch - jak gorąco!
Uch - jak gorąco!
Puff - jak gorąco!
Uff - jak gorąco!
Już ledwo sapie, już ledwo zipie,
A jeszcze palacz węgiel w nią sypie.
Wagony do niej podoczepiali
Wielkie i ciężkie, z żelaza, stali,
I pełno ludzi w każdym wagonie,
A w jednym krowy, a w drugim konie,
A w trzecim siedzą same grubasy,
Siedzą i jedzą tłuste kiełbasy.
A czwarty wagon pełen bananów,
A w piątym stoi sześć fortepianów,
W szóstym armata, o! jaka wielka!
Pod każdym kołem żelazna belka!
W siódmym dębowe stoły i szafy,
W ósmym słoń, niedźwiedź i dwie żyrafy,
W dziewiątym - same tuczone świnie,
W dziesiątym - kufry, paki i skrzynie,
A tych wagonów jest ze czterdzieści,
Sam nie wiem, co się w nich jeszcze mieści.
Lecz choćby przyszło tysiąc atletów
I każdy zjadłby tysiąc kotletów,
I każdy nie wiem jak się natężał,
To nie udźwigną - taki to ciężar!
Nagle - gwizd!
Nagle - świst!
Para - buch!
Koła - w ruch!
Najpierw
powoli
jak żółw
ociężale
Ruszyła
maszyna
po szynach
ospale.
Szarpnęła wagony i ciągnie z mozołem,
I kręci się, kręci się koło za kołem,
I biegu przyspiesza, i gna coraz prędzej,
I dudni, i stuka, łomoce i pędzi.
A dokąd? A dokąd? A dokąd? Na wprost!
Po torze, po torze, po torze, przez most,
Przez góry, przez tunel, przez pola, przez las
I spieszy się, spieszy, by zdążyć na czas,
Do taktu turkoce i puka, i stuka to:
Tak to to, tak to to, tak to to, tak to to,
Gładko tak, lekko tak toczy się w dal,
Jak gdyby to była piłeczka, nie stal,
Nie ciężka maszyna zziajana, zdyszana,
Lecz raszka, igraszka, zabawka blaszana.
A skądże to, jakże to, czemu tak gna?
A co to to, co to to, kto to tak pcha?
Że pędzi, że wali, że bucha, buch-buch?
To para gorąca wprawiła to w ruch,
To para, co z kotła rurami do tłoków,
A tłoki kołami ruszają z dwóch boków
I gnają, i pchają, i pociąg się toczy,
Bo para te tłoki wciąż tłoczy i tłoczy,,
I koła turkocą, i puka, i stuka to:
Tak to to, tak to to, tak to to, tak to to!...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Julian Tuwim
( 1894-1953)
Nauka
Nauczyli mnie mnóstwa mądrości,
Logarytmów, wzorów i formułek,
Z kwadracików, trójkącików i kółek
Nauczyli mnie nieskończoności.
Rozprawiali o ‘cudach przyrody’,
Oglądałem różne tajemnice:
W jednym szkiełku ‘życie kropli wody ‘,
W innym zaś kanały na księżycu .
Wiem o kuli, napełnionej lodem,
O bursztynie, gdy się go pociera…
Wiem, że ciało, pogrążone w wodę
Traci tyle, ile…et cetera,
Ach, wiem jeszcze, że na drugiej półkuli
Słońce świeci, gdy u nas jest ciemno!
Różne rzeczy do głowy mi wkuli,
Tumanili nauką daremną.
I nic nie wiem, i nic nie rozumiem,
I wciąż wierzę biednymi zmysłami,
że ci ludzie na drugiej półkuli
Muszą chodzić do góry nogami.
I do dziś mam taką szaloną trwogę:
Bóg mnie wyrwie a stanę bez słowa!
- Panie Boże! Odpowiadać nie mogę,
Ja wymawiam się, mnie boli głowa…
Trudna lekcja. Nie mogłem od razu.
Lecz nauczę się…po pewnym czasie…
Proszę Zostaw mnie na drugie życie,
Jak na drugi rok w tej samej klasie.
The schooling
They taught me so many wise things.
Pushed binomials and roots in my ears,
Showed with triangles, circles, and spheres
Where infinity ends and begins.
They lectured on life’s wonders and sense,
Distinguished the true from the false,
Showed me ‘life in one drop’ through a lens,
Through another lens, ‘lunar canals’.
Of such knowledge I’ve now a huge store,
2πR and H2SO3,
know of apple and Newton, and spores,
changing weather’s no secret to me,
I now know why the water-pipes burst,
Why the forests have turned into stone,
Why a body, in water immersed,
Loses weight by as much…and so on.
I know, too, on the earth’s other side,
Sun’s still shining, while here it is night!
They with such stuff my poor head had plied,
With such knowledge quite useless and trite.
And I, for all the yelling and telling,
Still believe, with these senses misled,
That the men on the world’s under-belly
Walk about with heels over their heads.
To this day I’m by stupid fear scared:
God will point – and I stand up, unready,
- Sir! Sir God! I am not quite prepared,
I, excuse me, Sir, have such a headache…
It was so hard…I couldn’t at once…
I will study…next time I will pass…
Please – just one more life, just one more chance,
Like a second year in the same class.
tłumaczył/translated by:
Marcel Weyland (Sydney)
mpweyland@bigpond.com
From the very beginning and throughout his artistic career, Tuwim was satirically inclined. He supplied sketches and monologues to numerous cabarets. In his poetry and columns, he derided obscurantism and bureaucracy as well as militaristic and nationalistic trends in politics. His best satiric poem is regarded to be the burlesque, "Bal w Operze" (The Ball at the Opera, 1936).
In 1918 Tuwim co-founded the cabaret, "Picador", and worked as a writer or artistic director with many other cabarets such as "Czarny kot" (Black Cat 1917–1919), "Qui pro Quo" (1919–1932), "Banda" The Gang and "Stara Banda" The Old Gang (1932–1935) and finally "Cyrulik Warszawski" (Barber of Warsaw 1935–1939). Since 1924 Tuwim was a staff writer at "Wiadomości Literackie" (Literary News) where he wrote a weekly column "Camera Obscura". He also wrote for the satirical magazine "Szpilki" (Pins).
Tuwim displayed his caustic sense of humor and unyielding individuality in works such as "Poem in which the author politely yet firmly implores the vast hosts of his brethren to kiss his arse." Here, Tuwim systematically enumerates and caricatures various personae inhabiting European social scene of the mid-1930s -- 'perfumed café intellectuals', 'drab socialists', 'fascist jocks', 'Zionist doctors', 'repressed Catholics' and so on, and ends each stanza by asking each to perform the action indicated in the title. The poem ends with a note to the would-be censor who would surely be tempted to expunge all mention of this piece for its breach of 'public standards.' This stanza ends just like the others as the censor fulfills his role.
More:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_Tuwim
This poem is known to every Polish child.
The Locomotive
A big locomotive has pulled into town,
Heavy, humungus, with sweat rolling down,
A plump jumbo olive.
Huffing and puffing and panting and smelly,
Fire belches forth from her fat cast iron belly.
Poof, how she's burning,
Oof, how she's boiling,
Puff, how she's churning,
Huff, how she's toiling.
She's fully exhausted and all out of breath,
Yet the coalman continues to stoke her to death.
Numerous wagons she tugs down the track:
Iron and steel monsters hitched up to her back,
All filled with people and other things too:
The first carries cattle, then horses not few;
The third car with corpulent people is filled,
Eating fat frankfurters all freshly grilled.
The fourth car is packed to the hilt with bananas,
The fifth has a cargo of six grand pi-an-as.
The sixth wagon carries a cannon of steel,
With heavy iron girders beneath every wheel.
The seventh has tables, oak cupboards with plates,
While an elephant, bear, two giraffes fill the eighth.
The ninth contains nothing but well-fattened swine,
In the tenth: bags and boxes, now isn't that fine?
There must be at least forty cars in a row,
And what they all carry -- I simply don't know:
But if one thousand athletes, with muscles of steel,
Each ate one thousand cutlets in one giant meal,
And each one exerted as much as he could,
They'd never quite manage to lift such a load.
First a toot!
Then a hoot!
Steam is churning,
Wheels are turning!
More slowly - than turtles - with freight - on their - backs,
The drowsy - steam engine - sets off - down the tracks.
She chugs and she tugs at her wagons with strain,
As wheel after wheel slowly turns on the train.
She doubles her effort and quickens her pace,
And rambles and scrambles to keep up the race.
Oh whither, oh whither? go forward at will,
And chug along over the bridge, up the hill,
Through mountains and tunnels and meadows and woods,
Now hurry, now hurry, deliver your goods.
Keep up your tempo, now push along, push along,
Chug along, tug along, tug along, chug along
Lightly and sprightly she carries her freight
Like a ping-pong ball bouncing without any weight,
Not heavy equipment exhausted to death,
But a little tin toy, just a light puff of breath.
Oh whither, oh whither, you'll tell me, I trust,
What is it, what is it that gives you your thrust?
What gives you momentum to roll down the track?
It's hot steam that gives me my clickety-clack.
Hot steam from the boiler through tubes to the pistons,
The pistons then push at the wheels from short distance,
They drive and they push, and the train starts a-swooshin'
'Cuz steam on the pistons keeps pushin' and pushin';
The wheels start a rattlin', clatterin', chatterin'
Chug along, tug along, chug along, tug along! . . . . .
LOKOMOTYWA
Stoi na stacji lokomotywa,
Ciężka, ogromna i pot z niej spływa -
Tłusta oliwa.
Stoi i sapie, dyszy i dmucha,
Żar z rozgrzanego jej brzucha bucha:
Buch - jak gorąco!
Uch - jak gorąco!
Puff - jak gorąco!
Uff - jak gorąco!
Już ledwo sapie, już ledwo zipie,
A jeszcze palacz węgiel w nią sypie.
Wagony do niej podoczepiali
Wielkie i ciężkie, z żelaza, stali,
I pełno ludzi w każdym wagonie,
A w jednym krowy, a w drugim konie,
A w trzecim siedzą same grubasy,
Siedzą i jedzą tłuste kiełbasy.
A czwarty wagon pełen bananów,
A w piątym stoi sześć fortepianów,
W szóstym armata, o! jaka wielka!
Pod każdym kołem żelazna belka!
W siódmym dębowe stoły i szafy,
W ósmym słoń, niedźwiedź i dwie żyrafy,
W dziewiątym - same tuczone świnie,
W dziesiątym - kufry, paki i skrzynie,
A tych wagonów jest ze czterdzieści,
Sam nie wiem, co się w nich jeszcze mieści.
Lecz choćby przyszło tysiąc atletów
I każdy zjadłby tysiąc kotletów,
I każdy nie wiem jak się natężał,
To nie udźwigną - taki to ciężar!
Nagle - gwizd!
Nagle - świst!
Para - buch!
Koła - w ruch!
Najpierw
powoli
jak żółw
ociężale
Ruszyła
maszyna
po szynach
ospale.
Szarpnęła wagony i ciągnie z mozołem,
I kręci się, kręci się koło za kołem,
I biegu przyspiesza, i gna coraz prędzej,
I dudni, i stuka, łomoce i pędzi.
A dokąd? A dokąd? A dokąd? Na wprost!
Po torze, po torze, po torze, przez most,
Przez góry, przez tunel, przez pola, przez las
I spieszy się, spieszy, by zdążyć na czas,
Do taktu turkoce i puka, i stuka to:
Tak to to, tak to to, tak to to, tak to to,
Gładko tak, lekko tak toczy się w dal,
Jak gdyby to była piłeczka, nie stal,
Nie ciężka maszyna zziajana, zdyszana,
Lecz raszka, igraszka, zabawka blaszana.
A skądże to, jakże to, czemu tak gna?
A co to to, co to to, kto to tak pcha?
Że pędzi, że wali, że bucha, buch-buch?
To para gorąca wprawiła to w ruch,
To para, co z kotła rurami do tłoków,
A tłoki kołami ruszają z dwóch boków
I gnają, i pchają, i pociąg się toczy,
Bo para te tłoki wciąż tłoczy i tłoczy,,
I koła turkocą, i puka, i stuka to:
Tak to to, tak to to, tak to to, tak to to!...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Julian Tuwim
( 1894-1953)
Nauka
Nauczyli mnie mnóstwa mądrości,
Logarytmów, wzorów i formułek,
Z kwadracików, trójkącików i kółek
Nauczyli mnie nieskończoności.
Rozprawiali o ‘cudach przyrody’,
Oglądałem różne tajemnice:
W jednym szkiełku ‘życie kropli wody ‘,
W innym zaś kanały na księżycu .
Wiem o kuli, napełnionej lodem,
O bursztynie, gdy się go pociera…
Wiem, że ciało, pogrążone w wodę
Traci tyle, ile…et cetera,
Ach, wiem jeszcze, że na drugiej półkuli
Słońce świeci, gdy u nas jest ciemno!
Różne rzeczy do głowy mi wkuli,
Tumanili nauką daremną.
I nic nie wiem, i nic nie rozumiem,
I wciąż wierzę biednymi zmysłami,
że ci ludzie na drugiej półkuli
Muszą chodzić do góry nogami.
I do dziś mam taką szaloną trwogę:
Bóg mnie wyrwie a stanę bez słowa!
- Panie Boże! Odpowiadać nie mogę,
Ja wymawiam się, mnie boli głowa…
Trudna lekcja. Nie mogłem od razu.
Lecz nauczę się…po pewnym czasie…
Proszę Zostaw mnie na drugie życie,
Jak na drugi rok w tej samej klasie.
The schooling
They taught me so many wise things.
Pushed binomials and roots in my ears,
Showed with triangles, circles, and spheres
Where infinity ends and begins.
They lectured on life’s wonders and sense,
Distinguished the true from the false,
Showed me ‘life in one drop’ through a lens,
Through another lens, ‘lunar canals’.
Of such knowledge I’ve now a huge store,
2πR and H2SO3,
know of apple and Newton, and spores,
changing weather’s no secret to me,
I now know why the water-pipes burst,
Why the forests have turned into stone,
Why a body, in water immersed,
Loses weight by as much…and so on.
I know, too, on the earth’s other side,
Sun’s still shining, while here it is night!
They with such stuff my poor head had plied,
With such knowledge quite useless and trite.
And I, for all the yelling and telling,
Still believe, with these senses misled,
That the men on the world’s under-belly
Walk about with heels over their heads.
To this day I’m by stupid fear scared:
God will point – and I stand up, unready,
- Sir! Sir God! I am not quite prepared,
I, excuse me, Sir, have such a headache…
It was so hard…I couldn’t at once…
I will study…next time I will pass…
Please – just one more life, just one more chance,
Like a second year in the same class.
tłumaczył/translated by:
Marcel Weyland (Sydney)
mpweyland@bigpond.com
