Translation

[Lewis B. Sckolnick]

Critic's Notebook
How Opera Challenges Translators
By ANTHONY TOMMASINI
Published: December 24, 2010

In a late scene of Mozart's "Zauberflöte," the hardy bird catcher 
Papageno, despairing that he may never have a mate, berates the world 
and decides to end it all. Seeing a tree, he makes a big show of his 
misery and threatens to hang himself.


Right now at the Metropolitan Opera, you can hear the baritone Nathan 
Gunn, a charming Papageno, sing this aria in English and, thanks to his 
crisp diction, understand every word. As a holiday presentation, Julie 
Taymor's production of "The Magic Flute," trimmed to just 100 minutes, 
is being performed through Jan. 6 in the poet J. D. McClatchy's witty, 
singable English translation of the German libretto.

Translating librettos is a time-honored practice that takes enormous 
skill. It's not like translating "Madame Bovary" into English, which is 
hard enough. A translation of an opera libretto must fit exactly the 
rhythm, bounce and flow of the existing melodic lines, which the 
composer matched to the words of the original language. Libretto 
translators are forced to play fast and loose with the meaning of the 
original text to render an equivalent in performable English.

For example, in this scene from "The Magic Flute," the German libretto 
by Emanuel Schikaneder has the sorry bird catcher bidding farewell to 
all pretty maidens. He then adds: "Will sich eine um mich Armen,/Eh ich 
hänge, noch erbarmen;/Wohl, so lass ich's diesmal sein! Rufet nur, ja 
oder nein!" This is usually translated into something like: "If someone 
will take pity on poor me before I hang myself, well then, maybe I'll 
put it off this one time. Speak up, yes or no!"

In his translation of these lines for the Met, Mr. McClatchy comes up 
with something at once touching and funny. In the first two lines 
Papageno, turning to the audience, poses poignant questions: "Is my face 
just one big puddle?/Aren't I cute enough to cuddle?" Yes, it's a leap 
from the actual meaning of the original. But it mimics the German words 
and fits the melodic line perfectly.

You can find another McClatchy rendering of these lines in his new book, 
"Seven Mozart Librettos," recently published by W. W. Norton. This thick 
book contains English verse translations of the German and Italian 
librettos for the major Mozart operas. These versions are not meant for 
performance, but simply to be read and enjoyed. Since the English words 
need not conform exactly to Mozart's melodic lines, Mr. McClatchy is 
free to write translations that adhere more closely to the original 
imagery, meaning and rhyme scheme.

In the book that passage from Papageno's aria is translated as follows:

If there were just someone to care,

Take pity on me, want to spare ---

Yes! This once I might relent!

Speak up! Have I your consent?

There are, in general, three ways that opera buffs typically encounter 
English versions of European-language librettos from earlier eras, which 
were mostly written in verse. First, there are the literal translations 
included in the program books for opera recordings, or published 
separately. The intent here, most often, is simply to indicate what the 
words mean.

Then there are supertitles in the opera house. Here the translations can 
be as literal or free as the translator wants. But of necessity the 
lines are cut to the essentials, so as not to distract the audience's 
attention from what is happening onstage. Titles are distracting, of 
course, but most operagoers find the tradeoff worth it.

Third are the translations prepared for performances in English, which 
involve free-wheeling adaptations of the original that maintain the 
rhyme schemes but often convey just an approximation of what is being said.

In his new book Mr. McClatchy pays tribute to the librettos of the 
Mozart operas by rendering the lines into English verse equivalents that 
capture some of the poetic richness and humor of the originals. His 
effort is based on the belief that there is literary value in these 
librettos, especially the three written by Lorenzo Da Ponte: "Le Nozze 
di Figaro," "Don Giovanni" and "Così Fan Tutte."

Mr. McClatchy's respect for the original librettos comes through in his 
often elegant translations. Take, for example, the Countess Almaviva's 
scene at the opening of Act II in "Figaro," her first appearance in the 
opera. Alone in her room, in the famous aria "Porgi, amor," she mourns 
the loss of her husband's love and yearns to have it back.

Mr. McClatchy's translation captures the meaning in poetic words that 
match the directness of the Italian:

Grant me, Love, at last an end

To my sorrow, oh hear my sigh.

Bring back the light of my life,

Or have mercy and let me die!

You could question the purpose of Mr. McClatchy's verse translations. 
Whatever the literary value of the best librettos, the words are not 
meant to be savored on the page but heard from the stage. Many writers 
patronize the practice of rendering librettos into English translations.

But I am a staunch defender of performing opera in the audience's 
language and of the translators who make this honored practice possible. 
Of course opera involves a dramatic marriage of words and music, and 
much is lost when the music is divorced from its original spouse.

Still, a special immediacy is gained when an audience understands what 
is being sung, as long as the singers work hard to project words 
clearly. That this can be done was proved recently when New York City 
Opera performed Strauss's chatty domestic comedy "Intermezzo" in Andrew 
Porter's clever and effective English translation of Strauss's own 
German libretto.

To understand the allure of Mozart operas in English, listen to the Sony 
Classical recording of "Così Fan Tutte" that documents a landmark 
Metropolitan Opera production from the 1951-52, season, performed in an 
English version by the noted team of Ruth and Thomas Martin. Back then 
"Così" was hardly the repertory staple it is today. So it helped the 
audience immensely to hear it in English.

The opera opens with young Ferrando defending the honor of his betrothed 
against the doubts of the cynical older bachelor Don Alfonso. In the 
original he sings: "La mia Dorabella capace non è,/fedel quanto bella il 
cielo la fe."

He says, basically, that Dorabella is incapable of being unfaithful, 
that Heaven has made her as faithful as she is beautiful. On the 
recording the great tenor Richard Tucker, singing with style and crisp 
diction, performs a charming English version by the Martins, which plays 
with the meaning but gets the point across and closely follows Mozart's 
melodic line:

To doubt Dorabella is simply absurd,

Completely absurd!

She'll always be faithful and true to her word!

She'll always be faithful and true to her word!

Mr. McClatchy's verse rendering, not needing to fit the melody, has 
conversational and poetic punch, though it also leaves out the reference 
to Heaven:

Betray me? Dorabella? Out of your mind!

Her love and her loyalty are sweetly entwined.

Mr. McClatchy's alliterative use of "love" and "loyalty" echoes the 
partial rhyme in "fedel" and "bella." Turning Ferrando's statements into 
questions is problematic for me, since Mozart's music seems assertive, 
not incredulous. Still, this is an intriguing translation.

Sometimes Mr. McClatchy makes a point of being as close to the original 
meaning as possible. In the introduction to the book he discusses the 
opening lines of "Don Giovanni," when the Don's beleaguered servant 
Leporello complains about his job. The bouncy Italian lines are: "Notte 
e giorno faticar/per chi nulla sa gradir;/piova e vento 
sopportar,/mangiar male e mal dormir ..." It loosely translates as: 
"Slaving night and day for one whom nothing pleases, enduring wind and 
rain, badly fed and short of sleep."

An English performing version by W. H. Auden and Chester Kallman renders 
the lines:

On the go from morn till night,

Running errands, never free.

Hardly time to snatch a bite;

This is not the life for me.

The colloquial "snatch a bite" is a neat touch. Yet, as Mr. McClatchy 
points out, it's not quite what the overworked, under-appreciated 
Leporello says. For example, his complaint is not that he has no time to 
eat, but that the food he gets is terrible. Here is the McClatchy 
version, which also works in the reference, which Auden/Kallman omits, 
to Leporello's having to endure wind and rain while carrying out the 
Don's errands:

Always working, night and day,

And not a word of gratitude.

Wind and rain, come what may.

Never a nap and rotten food.

Though not for performance, this rendering conveys the meaning for 
readers with comparably vivid poetic imagery. Still, part of the delight 
of the Auden/Kallman version comes from the way it so snugly hugs the 
familiar melody.

While his book was a Herculean feat, Mr. McClatchy was not constrained 
by having to come up with translations that matched the music. He 
certainly has the skill to render a Mozart opera libretto into singable 
English, as his version of "The Magic Flute" at the Met proves. I hope 
he tries it some more.

Lewis B. Sckolnick
The Ledge House
130 Rattlesnake Gutter Road, Suite 1000
Leverett, MA 01054-9726
U.S.A.

Telephone 1. 413. 367. 0303
Facsimile 1. 413. 367. 2853
info at runanywhere.com
http://www.twitter.com/Lewisxxxusa




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