24 febrero 2007

Horses, horses: para llegar, para huir, para regresar.





The boy was in the hallway drinking a glass of tea / From the other end of the hallway a rhythm was generating / Another boy was sliding up the hallway / He merged perfectly with the hallway, / He merged perfectly, the mirror in the hallway / / The boy looked at Johnny, Johnny wanted to run, / but the movie kept moving as planned / The boy took Johnny, he pushed him against the locker, / He drove it in, he drove it home, he drove it deep in Johnny / The boy disappeared, Johnny fell on his knees, / started crashing his head against the locker, / started crashing his head against the locker, / started laughing hysterically / / When suddenly Johnny gets the feeling he's being surrounded by / horses, horses, horses, horses / coming in in all directions / white shining silver studs with their nose in flames, / He saw horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses. / Do you know how to pony like bony maroney / Do you know how to twist, well it goes like this, it goes like this / Baby mash potato, do the alligator, do the alligator / And you twist the twister like your baby sister / I want your baby sister, give me your baby sister, dig your baby sister / Rise up on her knees, do the sweet pea, do the sweet pee pee, / Roll down on her back, got to lose control, got to lose control, / Got to lose control and then you take control, / Then you're rolled down on your back and you like it like that, / Like it like that, like it like that, like it like that, / Then you do the watusi, yeah do the watusi / / Life is filled with holes, Johnny's laying there, his sperm coffin / Angel looks down at him and says, “Oh, pretty boy, / Can't you show me nothing but surrender ?” / Johnny gets up, takes off his leather jacket, / Taped to his chest there's the answer, / You got pen knives and jack knives and / Switchblades preferred, switchblades preferred / Then he cries, then he screams, saying / Life is full of pain, I'm cruisin' through my brain / And I fill my nose with snow and go Rimbaud, / Go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud, / And go Johnny go, and do the watusi, oh do the watusi / / There's a little place, a place called space / It's a pretty little place, it's across the tracks, / Across the tracks and the name of the place is you like it like that, / You like it like that, you like it like that, you like it like that, / And the name of the band is the / Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes, / Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes / / Baby calm down, better calm down, / In the night, in the eye of the forest / There's a mare black and shining with yellow hair, / I put my fingers through her silken hair and found a stair, / I didn't waste time, I just walked right up and saw that / up there -- there is a sea / up there -- there is a sea / up there -- there is a sea / the sea's the possibility / There is no land but the land / (up there is just a sea of possibilities) / There is no sea but the sea / (up there is a wall of possibilities) / There is no keeper but the key / (up there there are several walls of possibilities) / Except for one who seizes possibilities, one who seizes possibilities. / (up there) / I seize the first possibility, is the sea around me / I was standing there with my legs spread like a sailor / (in a sea of possibilities) I felt his hand on my knee / (on the screen) / And I looked at Johnny and handed him a branch of cold flame / (in the heart of man) / The waves were coming in like Arabian stallions / Gradually lapping into sea horses / He picked up the blade and he pressed it against his smooth throat / (the spoon) / And let it deep in / (the veins) / Dip in to the sea, to the sea of possibilities / It started hardening / Dip in to the sea, to the sea of possibilities / It started hardening in my hand / And I felt the arrows of desire / / I put my hand inside his cranium, oh we had such a brainiac-amour / But no more, no more, I gotta move from my mind to the area / (go Rimbaud go Rimbaud go Rimbaud) / And go Johnny go and do the watusi, / Yeah do the watusi, do the watusi ... / Shined open coiled snakes white and shiny twirling and encircling / Our lives are now entwined, we will fall yes we're together twining / Your nerves, your mane of the black shining horse / And my fingers all entwined through the air, / I could feel it, it was the hair going through my fingers, / (I feel it I feel it I feel it I feel it) / The hairs were like wires going through my body / I I that's how I / that's how I / I died / (at that Tower of Babel they knew what they were after) / (they knew what they were after) / [Everything on the current] moved up / I tried to stop it, but it was too warm, too unbelievably smooth, / Like playing in the sea, in the sea of possibility, the possibility / Was a blade, a shiny blade, I hold the key to the sea of possibilities / There's no land but the land / / looked at my hands, and there's a red stream / that went streaming through the sands like fingers, / like arteries, like fingers / (how much fits between the eyes of a horse?) / He lay, pressing it against his throat (your eyes) / He opened his throat (your eyes) / His vocal chords started shooting like (of a horse) mad pituitary glands / The scream he made (and my heart) was so high (my heart) pitched that nobody heard, / No one heard that cry, / No one heard (Johnny) the butterfly flapping in his throat, / (His fingers) / Nobody heard, he was on that bed, it was like a sea of jelly, / And so he seized the first / (his vocal chords shot up) / (possibility) / (like mad pituitary glands) / It was a black tube, he felt himself disintegrate / (there is nothing happening at all) / and go inside the black tube, so when he looked out into the steep / saw this sweet young thing (Fender one) / Humping on the parking meter, leaning on the parking meter / / In the sheets / there was a man / dancing around / to the simple / Rock & roll / song.


Patti Smith (Chicago, 1946): Horses, del álbum del mismo nombre (1975)

13 comentarios:

Lara dijo...

Te pido la traducción ya.

Sonrisas.

NáN dijo...

Tranquila, amor mío,
conviene que te calmes,
en la noche, ante la mirada del bosque,
hay una yegua negra cuyas crines rubias brillan,
deslicé los dedos en su vello sedoso y encontré una escalera.
No perdí tiempo y ascendí para ver
que ... allá arriba ... hay un mar
allá arriba ... hay un mar
allá arriba ... hay un mar
y el mar es la posibilidad.


¿alguien se apunta?

Anónimo dijo...

Horses, horses: para llegar, para huir, para regresar.

No iba a empezar con esto, pero Lara me ha empujado con su cita de Patti Smith para el maravilloso poema de Leopoldo. Quizá debería haber puesto la letra (larga letra) en un comentario, pero al pasar a comentarios la música se corta. La próxima vez, MIG, brevísimo.

¿Cómo ver un trocito de Horses y no poner la canción y la letra?

No voy a excusarme de anteriores comportamientos. El mal que se hace a conciencia queda iremediablemente flotando mientras la conciencia flota. No hay "bondades limpiadoras". Bastante es lograr que la conciencia no se arrastre a lo negro siempre. Habrá el mal que llevarlo sobre uno (no se disuelve la vergüenza, ni el camino habrá de detenerse).

¡¿Y cómo poner una canción de 1.200 palabras?! ¿En qué caballos montaban para tantas palabras, para tantos minutos? Pues habrá que ponerlo todo seguido con una barra (/) para indicar el final del verso. Ya sé que es feo, pero más feo es no saber. Si hay alguien que no sabe inglés suficiente para "barruntar" el significado, que lo diga, que alguien habrá en una situación inmejorable para ir, poco a poco, avanzando una traducción.

Besos.

Lara dijo...

Soy la más torpe o qué. ¡No puedo escuchar la canción!

Rober dijo...

hermosa canción (aunque mi inglés no da mucho de sí)
¿Alguien se atreve con la traducción?
yo lo agradecería.

Anónimo dijo...

goear.com tiene montones y montones de temas increíbles, pero falla bastante: sobre todo lo que se pone así, con la cajita, queda desconectado a veces. Abre otra página del explorador, ve a www.goear.com, busca Horses y a disfrutarla mientras lees la letra o recorres los blogs o...

Miguel Marqués dijo...

Uf. Yo la traduciría . Uf.

(El uf es una onomatopeya equina)

Anónimo dijo...

yo ya hice un trocitito (2º comentario).
Dale un empujón.
¿Olka?
luego vuelvo yo...

Vamos haciendo copypaste...

Anónimo dijo...

yo es que soy más de los horses de tori amos, aunque no carguen con tanto contenido, ¿o quizá por eso?
un beso desde el caos de market street.

Anónimo dijo...

Querido Miguel, de la añorada dinastía de los onomatopeyas almeriyíes.

Ola, con la conocida excusa de "perdone zeñó, pero ¿por quién me ha tomado? Yo no zoy una inteleztuá" nos dice que traduzca Rita.

Así que, o nos damos tú y yo una jartá de uf, uf, uf, uf para complacer a Lara y a Robel, o, más probable, esa larguísima canción-poema queda como fue parida: en inglés.

Por si acaso, diré que el tema es el siguiente: "atraca la vida. Date un atracón de vida. Si no lo haces, mira a tu alrededor y verás lo que pasa. Si lo haces, la estadística visual dice que 7 de cada 10 cascan, mientras que los 3 restantes tienen bonitos recuerdos para amargarse la vejez. Así que vosotros mismos".

También dice mucho "caballos, caballos, caballos...". Y también "ve a Rimbaud, ve a Rimbaud, ve a Rimbaud...", que es la parte más insensata de la canción.

Yo, por si acaso, iría.

Anónimo dijo...

ey! igual las letras de tori no tanto, pero su música es poesía, de la que desgarra los hearts con cientos de horses al galope :)
esta semana me es imposible, por falta de tiempo, que no de ganas pa!(saludo típico polaco, breve y conciso, bonito ¿eh?)

Anónimo dijo...

Ese disclaimer suena mucho mejor, viniendo de quien viene.

Sortea el caos.

Pondré una canción pequeñita un día de estos, con poca letra, que no me dé pereza traducir. (A no ser que Mig se empeñe con Horses y tenga que ayudarle). Como Knocking on heavens door, de BD, que tanto me gusta.

pa!

Rober dijo...

Amigo Miguel, opino que merece la pena. Atracones aparte, si hay que volver a Rimbaud, se vuelve. Si hay que inventarse la letra o cantarla fonéticamente, también. No hay problema.

La cosa es no cascarla (todavía)

Bob Dylan siempre en el aire.