Die Armee kann nicht verrecken

[sovay]

There is not a good translation of Brecht and Weill's "Kanonen-Song." Iconic as it is, Blitzstein's is not very literal,¹ and all the later versions I've run across are even less so.² The real problem is that the song is a barrack-room ballad, so the ideal translator is Rudyard Kipling and short of necromancy, that is not going to happen.³

I am not Rudyard Kipling. I am not posting a translation here tonight, either. But I am working on one, if only to my own satisfaction. And I'm curious now: what other echoes am I missing? I have never formally studied Bertolt Brecht. Kipling would be a very roundabout way to get into him.

1. His third verse works very well, but he discards all the geography of the chorus (and its issues of race: 'ne neue Rasse / 'ne braune oder blasse) and the second verse just falls apart—I mean, "for the army is just a pink tea"? Nicht so viel.

2. There's one whose chorus starts "Soldiers live under / The cannon's thunder" which is not terrible, but I remember fragments of whichever translation they used at Brandeis in 1999: "The British Army / Will make salami / From Basra to [somewhere that rhymed] / We help the foreigner to meet the coroner . . . You can tell from the bodies where the squaddies have been." Which is appropriately shocking, but also overplays its hand.

3. This entire post brought to you courtesy of re-reading the Barrack-Room Ballads I don't know by heart (trans.: not set to music by Peter Bellamy) and realizing that "Surabaya-Johnny" derives directly from "Mary, Pity Women." And, good grief, so does Polly's "Farewell Song"—it's the first chorus, translated straight. Possibly this footnote should be a post of its own.

Comments

[gwynnega]

My favorite version of that song is Robyn Archer's, but I'm not sure which translation it is.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I'm looking forward to seeing your translation, whenever you should think it's fit to post.

Pity Kipling's not available to make a translation, but I think getting him to write one might be a just excuse for necromancy.

[handful-ofdust.livejournal.com]

So...that'd probably be the one from Lost in the Stars (done by Stan Ridgway) that you were quoting? (I think it's actually "the troops live under...", if so.)

My problem here is that I can't read German, but yeah, even just looking at it, it certainly does sound far more subtle and complicated than I'd been given to understand. Like everyone else, I look forward to your version, Kipling-inflected as I know it'll be.

[strange-selkie.livejournal.com]

It should be easy to get Kipling on the line. Just tell him you've found Jack .

[desperance.livejournal.com]

"Surabaya-Johnny" derives directly from "Mary, Pity Women."

But yes. Also:

And, good grief, so does Polly's "Farewell Song"—it's the first chorus, translated straight.

That too. And:

Possibly this footnote should be a post of its own.

Yes, please.

[teenybuffalo.livejournal.com]

Wow, our imaginations converge. I was listening to the Threepenny Opera on my way somewhere last week--I'm discovering it for the first time, after not liking it much when I was younger--and thinking, "Wow, this is like canned Kipling concentrate. And it's a rather good parody of verses like 'Loot'. I wonder how much is straight parody and how much is sincere homage."

BTW, if you haven't read "Loot" you're not missing much. It's about beating the crap out of races other than one's own, and taking all their stuff, except that it doesn't have the sense of irony that "Soldiers' Song" does.

More posts plz? On whatever aspects of the comparison interest you.

I read a lot of Brecht when I was younger, and remember thinking, "This play is like it was written by a totally different person from X song and Y play and Z opera," and then I found out that the women in Brecht's life did a lot of his writing for him. That was a real downer, in various ways. But then I had the fun of trying to figure out who wrote what. I'm a big fan of "The Caucasian Chalk Circle", which I'm pretty sure was mostly written by someone who wasn't Brecht. If he ever came near it, it was just to stick in a little cynicism. Like an Old Master signing one of his workshop-artists' paintings.