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Prufrock in Yiddish???????!!!!!

 
 
dlowan
 
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:23 am
I just read that Saul Bellow ( a favourite writer ) translated "The Love Song of J Alfed Prufrock" (a favourite poem) into Yiddish!!!


I am searching for it on the net as we speak.......but...does anyone have it/know where I can get it online?



Please?????????
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Walter Hinteler
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:30 am
Quote:
appears in a paper by Ruth R. Wisse entitled "Language as Fate: Reflections on Jewish Literature in America", a paper published in the 1996 Studies in Contemporary Jewry (Vol. 12), pages 129-147, Oxford University Press. The volume is subtitled Literary Strategies: Jewish Texts and Contexts. As this volume is not easily accessible, and because I thought other people might be interested in it, here it is:
Der shir hashirim fun Mendl Pumshtok

Nu-zhe, kum-zhe, ikh un du,
Ven der ovnt shteyt uf kegn dem himl
Vi a leymener goylm af Tisha b'Av

Lomir geyn zikh
Durkh geselakh vos dreyen zikh
Vi di bord fun dem rov

Oy, Bashe, freg nisht keyn kashe,
A dayge dir

Oyf der vant fun dem koshern restorant
Hengt a shmutsiker betgevant
Un vantsn tantsn karahod

In tsimer vu di vayber zenen
Ret men fun Marx un Lenin

Ike ver alt...ikh ver alt...
Es vert mir in pupik kalt

Zol ikh oykemen di hor, meg ikh oyfesn a floym?
Ikh vel tskatsheven di hoyzn
un shpatsirn bay dem yam,

Ikh vel hern di yam-moydn
zingen khad gadyo

Ikh vel zey entfernv
borukh-habo.

Ruth Wisse (b'sheim omro) says that she got these lines from Lucy Dawidowicz, who got them from Chaim Raphael, who got them from Daniel Bell.

Alas, I could not find the original in any of SaulBellow's papers on deposit at the University of Chicago library. Bellow assisted Isaac Rosenfeld in its composition, and I could not find the original in any of Rosenfeld's books. Thus this is, as Ruth Wisse says, an oral tradition that she finally recorded on paper.
Source
0 Replies
 
dlowan
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:30 am
Oh for pete's sake.....I found a site where people have tried to make famous poems into limericks while I searched.


http://www.metafilter.com/63163/There-once-was-a-girl-named-Lenore



Just for fun, Prufrock:


The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

There will be time for a middle-aged twit,
Some yellow fog & an existentialist fit.
This is all a facade,
I am pinned to a fraud,
And those mermaids, they don't give a ****.



Here's Poe's gddamn Raven, reduced to its bones.


Nevermore nevermore nevermore
Nevermore nevermore nevermore
Nevermore nevermore
Nevermore nevermore
Nevermore nevermore nevermore



Poor Marvell


Listen, baby, I'd go by the book
I'd give you some chat by the brook
Admire your bits
And flatter your tits
But time's short and I'm hard. So let's ****.




Anyhoo...back to looking for the Yiddish Prufrock...
0 Replies
 
dlowan
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:34 am
Walter!



Now I don't get the damn Yiddish.




I'll have to do a side by side:



Nu-zhe, kum-zhe, ikh un du,
Ven der ovnt shteyt uf kegn dem himl
Vi a leymener goylm af Tisha b'Av

Lomir geyn zikh
Durkh geselakh vos dreyen zikh
Vi di bord fun dem rov

Oy, Bashe, freg nisht keyn kashe,
A dayge dir

Oyf der vant fun dem koshern restorant
Hengt a shmutsiker betgevant
Un vantsn tantsn karahod

In tsimer vu di vayber zenen
Ret men fun Marx un Lenin

Ike ver alt...ikh ver alt...
Es vert mir in pupik kalt

Zol ikh oykemen di hor, meg ikh oyfesn a floym?
Ikh vel tskatsheven di hoyzn
un shpatsirn bay dem yam,

Ikh vel hern di yam-moydn
zingen khad gadyo

Ikh vel zey entfernv
borukh-habo.




1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.








Well, for starters, there isn't enough Yiddish!!!
0 Replies
 
Phoenix32890
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:36 am
Deb- Can you read Yiddish? If so,

http://www.cs.uky.edu/~raphael/yiddish/prufrock.pdf

I think that you need to have Hebrew fonts installed on your computer to read this. I am looking for a transliteration, but so far, nothing!
0 Replies
 
Walter Hinteler
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:38 am
Phoenix32890 wrote:
Deb- Can you read Yiddish? If so,

http://www.cs.uky.edu/~raphael/yiddish/prufrock.pdf

I think that you need to have Hebrew fonts installed on your computer to read this. I am looking for a transliteration, but so far, nothing!


That's in Hebrew - as far as I could find out the Yiddish version in Latin letters is that what I posed above.
0 Replies
 
Phoenix32890
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:41 am
Walter- I know enough Yiddish to know that that's in Yiddish. Yiddish uses the Hebrew alphabet.
0 Replies
 
dlowan
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:42 am
So...can anyone now explicate the Yiddish?


It looks nothing like the poem.....all the lines are different etc.
0 Replies
 
dlowan
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:43 am
Phoenix32890 wrote:
Walter- I know enough Yiddish to know that that's in Yiddish. Yiddish uses the Hebrew alphabet.



But it's a German hybrid thingy isn't it?
0 Replies
 
Phoenix32890
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:49 am
Yup- Yiddish is a combination of German and Hebrew. In America, there are many Yiddish terms that have come into the English language, mostly through show business personalities.
0 Replies
 
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Tue 6 Nov, 2007 04:53 am
dlowan wrote:


1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.



This is T.S. ELLIOT:

If I believed my answer were being given
to someone who could ever return to the world,
this flame would shake no more.
But since no one has ever returned alive from this depth,
if what I hear is true,
I will answer you without fear of infamy
0 Replies
 
 

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