{"id":107776,"date":"2017-02-15T13:22:52","date_gmt":"2017-02-15T18:22:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=107776"},"modified":"2017-02-17T11:59:21","modified_gmt":"2017-02-17T16:59:21","slug":"i-must-enter-again-the-round-zion-of-the-water-bead","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/02\/15\/i-must-enter-again-the-round-zion-of-the-water-bead\/","title":{"rendered":"I Must Enter Again the Round Zion of the Water Bead"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/a>

An illustration from Struwwelpeter<\/i>.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

It is not my habitual practice to go toe-to-toe with Mark Twain. I revere him, have made lengthy extracts from his works, have read aloud many times from Life on the Mississippi<\/em> and Huckleberry Finn<\/em>. I find Twain much<\/em> funnier than [insert the name of your favorite humorist here]. But.<\/p>\n

In 1891, stranded in Berlin, Twain set about translating the most famous children\u2019s book ever written in German: Struwwelpeter<\/em>. It is not a lengthy work. The whole thing is just ten medium-size poems, mostly in rhyming iambic tetrameter couplets. The German is hardly esoteric; it was originally composed (1844) for the benefit of the author\u2019s three-year-old son. Twain, too, had the benefit of a young audience for his translation: his three daughters, Jean, Clara, and Susie (ages eleven, seventeen, and nineteen, respectively) were with him at the time, suffering in Berlin.<\/p>\n

There are several narratives here, all worth the telling, regarding Twain\u2019s deal with the German language, the Germans\u2019 deal with Struwwelpeter<\/em>, Twain\u2019s surprising his family by unveiling and performing his translation of the poems on Christmas morning, und so weiter. But we have a great deal of more essential ground to cover.\u00a0<\/p>\n

First, to give English-speakers an idea of what Struwwelpeter<\/em> is like, here is one of the poems, translated pretty much word-for-word (you can also check out Heinrich Hoffmann\u2019s original, along with the standard, anonymous, nineteenth-century translation, here<\/a>). It should be mentioned that the cats\u2019 names, Minz and Maunz, should be pronounced \u201cMints\u201d and \u201cMounts.\u201d Many people do not understand this about the letter z<\/em> in German. But let\u2019s get on with this. Remember, this is literal\u2014<\/p>\n

The Rather Sad Story with the Box of Matches<\/strong><\/p>\n

Little Paula was alone at home;
\nThe parents were both out.
\nAs she now jumped around the room
\nWith a light heart and singing and carrying on,
\nShe saw suddenly before her stands
\nA matchbox, nice to look at.
\n\u201cAh,\u201d she says, \u201cah, how lovely and fine!
\nThis must be an excellent toy.
\nI\u2019ll strike a match against the box,
\nJust as Mother has often done.\u201d<\/p>\n

And Minz and Maunz, the cats,
\nRaise up their paws.
\nThey menace with the paws:
\n\u201cThe father has forbidden it!
\nMe-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!
\nLeave it alone! Otherwise you\u2019ll light yourself on fire!\u201d<\/p>\n

Little Paula doesn\u2019t listen to the cats;
\nThe match burns high and bright,
\nIt flickers jolly, crackles loud,
\nJust like you can see in the picture.
\nLittle Paula however pleased herself a lot,
\nAnd jumped back and forth in the room.<\/p>\n

Yet Minz and Maunz, the cats,
\nRaise up their paws.
\nThey menace with the paws;
\n\u201cThe mother has forbidden it!
\nMe-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!
\nThrow it away! Otherwise you\u2019ll light yourself on fire!\u201d<\/p>\n

Uh-oh! the flame catches the dress,
\nThe apron burns, it lights all over.
\nIt burns the hand, it burns the hair,
\nIt burns the whole child, even.<\/p>\n

And Minz and Maunz, they scream
\nQuite pitifully, the two of them:
\n\u201cCome on! Come on! Who will quickly help?
\nThe whole child is on fire!
\nMe-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!
\nHelp! the child has set herself on fire!\u201d<\/p>\n

All is burnt, whole and quite,
\nThe poor child, with her skin and hair;
\nOnly a handful of ash remains,
\nAnd both shoes, pretty and fine.<\/p>\n

And Minz and Maunz, the little \u2019uns,
\nThey sit there and cry:
\n\u201cMe-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!
\nWhere are the poor parents? where?\u201d
\nAnd their tears flow
\nLike a little brook in the meadows.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Got it? You see what we\u2019re dealing with here. It\u2019s not just Germany, 1844. No. In all countries and all epochs, the nearest way to make the teeny weenies laugh their evil little heads off is to Work the Perverse\u2014and work it hard. Ah, and the illustrations must not be omitted:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Good. Now here is Mark Twain\u2019s version of this immortal children\u2019s classic:<\/p>\n

The Sad Tale of the Match-Box<\/strong><\/p>\n

Paulinchen was alone at home,
\nThe parents they down-town did roam.
\nAs she now through the room did spring,
\nAll light of heart and soul a-wing,
\nShe saw there suddenly burst on sight
\nThe things wherewith one strikes a light.
\n\u201cOho,\u201d says she, \u201cmy hopes awake;
\nAh, what a plaything these will make!
\nI\u2019ll rake them on the wall, h\u2019hoo!
\nAs oft I\u2019ve seen my Mother do.\u201d<\/p>\n

And Mintz and Mountz, the catties,
\nLift up their little patties,
\nThey threaten with their pawses:
\n\u201cIt is against the lawses!
\nMe-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!
\nYou\u2019ll burn yourself to ashes, O!\u201d<\/p>\n

Paulinchen heard the catties not,
\nThe match did burn both bright and hot,
\nIt crackled gaily, sputtered free,
\nAs you it in the picture see.
\nPaulinchen waltzed and whirled and spun,
\nNear mad with joy for what she\u2019d done.<\/p>\n

Still Mintz and Mountz, the catties,
\nLift up their little patties,
\nThey threaten with their pawses:
\n\u201cIt is against the lawses!
\nMe-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!
\nDrop it or you are ashes, O!\u201d<\/p>\n

But ah, the flame it caught her clothes,
\nHer apron, too; and higher rose;
\nHer hand is burnt, her hair\u2019s afire,
\nConsume\u0300d is that child entire.<\/p>\n

And Mintz and Mountz wild crying,
\nThe while the child was frying,
\n\u201cCome quick!! they said, \u201cO Sire,
\nYour darling child\u2019s afire!
\nMe-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!
\nShe\u2019s cinders, soot, and ashes, O!\u201d<\/p>\n

Consumed is all, so sweet and fair,
\nThe total child, both flesh and hair,
\nA pile of ashes, two small shoes,
\nIs all that\u2019s left, and they\u2019re no use.<\/p>\n

And Mintz and Mountz sit sighing,
\nWith breaking hearts and crying,
\nMe-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!
\nHow could we let the parents know!\u201d
\nWhile round that ash-pile glowing
\nIn brooks their tears keep flowing.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I would say the above is approximately pitiful. Stilted, wilted, quilted, and kilted. But I want to take a moment at this crucial juncture to underscore: Twain was very capable of handling humor in verse. Whoever doubts this should have another look at the\u00a0exquisite \u201cOde to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec\u2019d\u201d in Huckleberry Finn<\/em> (pages 139 to 140, if you have the facsimile)\u2014which poem, by the way, is massacred in the Spanish and Russian translations I happen to have here in the apartment:<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

I mean, granted, the poem is untranslatable, depending as it does on the embarrassing and untragic sound of the surname Bots. (The original poem insistently rhymes on \u201cBots\u201d in three adjacent stanzas.) The only thing for a translator to do would be to come up with some kind of equivalent \u2026<\/em>\u00a0but see, there it is: translators seldom look at what they\u2019re doing. They just don\u2019t. Which brings me back to Twain\u2019s \u201cThe Sad Tale of the Match-Box.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, I am personally fond of the saying I suppose you think you could do better?<\/em> But, here\u2014and this only happens once or twice a decade, so I hope I may be excused from savoring it\u2014here, I actually do think I\u2019ve done better.<\/p>\n

All I\u2019m asking of the reader is that she clear her mind of all the foregoing remarks (especially the unsavory matter of besting Mark Twain or anybody else), and simply read the following translation, my own, in the spirit of \u201cDoes this piece deliver the same lalala as the original?\u201d<\/p>\n

Cheggitout:<\/p>\n

The Rather Sad Story with the Box of Matches and Joan and the Cats<\/strong><\/p>\n

Our little Joan was all alone
\nFor neither parent was at home.
\nFree at last, she danced a jig:
\nHer heart was light, her joy was big.
\nBut something catches her attention:
\nA box of matches in the kitchen!
\n\u201cAh-ha!\u201d she says, \u201cho-ho! oh boy:
\nI think I\u2019ve found a splendid toy!
\nTo play with these will please, because
\nIt\u2019s just what Mother always does.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Minz and Maunz, the cats,
\nBoth spring up from their mats.
\nThey menace with their fists:
\n\u201cYour father will be pissed!
\nMeow! Me-oh! Meow! Me-oh!
\nLay off! or you\u2019ll be sorry, Joan!\u201d<\/p>\n

Our little Joan ignores the cats,
\nIgnites a satisfying match.
\nIt sputters, flickers, pops and jets:
\nIt\u2019s fun as good as ever gets.
\n(Who views the picture here will find
\nOur Joan has partly lost her mind.)<\/p>\n

But Minz and Maunz, the cats,
\nBoth spring up from their mats.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s time you were admitting it:
\nYour mother has forbidden it!
\nMeow! Me-oh! Meow! Me-oh!
\nStop now! or you\u2019ll be sorry, Joan!\u201d<\/p>\n

Uh-oh! the flame has caught her dress!
\nWhat happens next you\u2019ll never guess.
\nThe apron burns; her hair ignites:
\nIt\u2019s quite the worst of earthly plights.<\/p>\n

And Minz and Maunz, they scream:
\n\u201cIt\u2019s like an awful dream!
\nHelp, help! Oh, summon someone quick!
\nWe\u2019re both of us becoming sick!
\nMeow! Me-oh! Meow! Me-oh!
\nWe said<\/em> that this would happen, Joan!\u201d<\/p>\n

But now the girl is as they feared:
\nQuite burnt to bits and disappeared.
\nAnd all that\u2019s left behind as clues
\nAre ashes and her little shoes.<\/p>\n

And Minz and Maunz are pining.
\nThey\u2019re sitting there and whining:
\n\u201cMeow! Me-oh! Meow! Me-oh!
\nWhere are her parents? We don\u2019t know!\u201d
\nAnd then their tears begin to flow
\nLike brooks that through the meadows go.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

PS: Readers stimulated by the foregoing may easily order the excellent Dover edition: Struwwelpeter in English Translation<\/em><\/a>, which functions as a kind of Heinrich Hoffmann kit. You get a serviceable English version, plus all the original pictures in full color, plus the German text as an appendix in the back. Five or six bucks online, shipping included.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Anthony Madrid<\/a> lives in Victoria, Texas. <\/em>His second book of poems is called <\/em>Try Never\u00a0(Canarium Books, 2017). He is a correspondent for the\u00a0<\/em>Daily.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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