Finnish
»Tuoppi olutta ja kaksi korttelia viinaa lippariksi on kohtuullinen mitta ja määrä väsyneen miehen kurkkuun ja päähän. Nytpä kannu keikkui ja parta kastui, pojat laulaa laskettelivat ja muorin tyttäret nauraa rikostelivat. Mutta läksinpä iloleikistä pois, läksin pitkin katua käymään. Lauluni remahti, akkunat säpäleiksi sälähti, ja siitäpä liikkeille Tampereen poroporvarit kaikki. Mutta minä, aina lysti-poika, minä viitenä vilkkasin pitkin rantaa, heille potkaisin vasten kuonoa soraa ja santaa. Tulin siitä Poriin, pantiin pärekoriin ja vedettiin pitkin torii; tulin Uuteenkaupunkiin, siellä akkunasta haukuttiin; tulin Turkuun, pistettiin puukko kurkkuun. Tulinpa lopulta Aningaisten kadun haaraan ja siellä kohtasin viisi nokkelata naaraa. Ensimmäinen potkaisi mua jalallansa, toinen sanoi: »anna sen pojan olla alallansa; hän ei ole mikään rakkari eikä mikään pikiprakkari». Mutta kolmas kysyi: »mikä sitä poikaa vaivaa?» ja neljäs sanoi: »häntä pitäis auttaa ajallansa». No lähdetäänpäs käsi kädessä käymään, lausuin minä, mutta viides tuuppasi vihaisesti nyrkillänsä ja ärjähti: »mene Helsinkiin!» Menin minä Helsinkiin, pantiin syömään kruunun vellinkii, ja sitten poikaa tutkittiin ja huikeasti selkään hutkittiin: »mene nyt, mene tiehes, sinä vasaran-poika!» Läksin taasen tietä käymään, minä veitikka, aina iloinen, minä, jonka sydän on kuin hylkeennahkainen tupakkikukkaro. Kuljeskelin, laulelin ja tallustelin pitkin tölmällistä tietä; tulin Hämeesen, astuin ylös Kuninkalan saarnastuoliin; ja sitten oli ammen plottis!»
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English
A mug of ale and two spans of brandy as a chaser is a fair amount and measure for a tired man’s throat and head. And now the can danced and my beard wagged, the boys all burst out singing and the old woman’s daughters giggling. But I forsook the joyous scene and set off down the street. My song rang out, the windows fell bang out, and this set all the Tampere townsmen afoot. But I, always a jolly lad, I ran like a rabbit along the strand, kicking up in their faces stones and sand. I came along to Pori, they put me in a basket there and dragged me round the market square; to Uusikaupunki I roam, they called me names from every home; Turku’s worst of all the pack, they stuck a knife into my back. However, I came to Aningaisten Street and there five merry jades did meet. The first she kicked me on the thigh, the second said ‘let the lad go by, for he is no meddler and no broken-down peddler.’ But the third inquired ‘what aileth the lad?’ and the fourth said ‘let’s help him before it gets bad.’ Well, let’s go along them arm in arm, said I, but the fifth poked me furiously with her fist and howled: ‘Go to Helsinki!’ To Helsinki I then did plod, they gave me gruel in the quod, and then they cross-examined me, and mercilessly punished me: ‘Go now, go thy way, thou son of a hammer!’ I took the road again and went, I, always a merry lad, I, whose heart is like an old sealskin pouch. I wandered singing along the road: and so I came to Häme, popped into the Kuninkala pulpit; and then ‘tis amen! “A stein of beer and two quarts of rye are a fair-to-middling bit for a tired throat and wit. Now cans are tipping and beards are dripping. The boys are singing and girls split with laughing. But I left the fun behind and took off down the street. My song rang out, shattered the windows, and shook up every last Tampere reindeer baron. But happy-go-lucky me, I scooted down the beach kicking sand and gravel in their path. I came to Pori then where they put me in a pen and hauled me round the fair. So on to Newtown where everyone called me down. To Turku I did flit where a knife my throat did slit. Then at last to Aningaisten Street, where five clever clicks I did meet. The first gave me a kick and the second said, ‘Don’t pick on the lad, he’s not so bad. Not the kind to gyp you or lead you on and clip you.’ The third said, ‘Why is he so sad?’ and the fourth, ‘We should help him in good time.’ With her fist the fifth one thumped me and barked, ‘Go to Hel-sinki!’ Off I went to Hell’s sink, where they put me in the clink and gave me the third-degree. I was pasted and lambasted. So I went along my way, as always bright and gay. With a heart like a sealskin tobacco pouch, I traveled, tramped, and sang along the hilly highway, until I came to Häme, stepped up into the Kuninkala pulpit, and so Amen.” “A stoup of beer and two jars of liquour ‘s a yesty yaw of yorsh for a gamester ‘s gorge and globe. The stoup took a sip and my beard took a brip, the boys sang a song and goody ‘s girls giggl’d all night long. And me, I heads outta the light and into the night, I walks my feet down the street, my song rings out strong, batters and shatters the window with a clatter, and out rush Tampere ‘s burghers en masse. But now a good even Christian like me, why, I bolt bold ‘long the strand, my chasers choking on my sand. Come to Pori, bound for glory, queer’d my quarry, got away gory; come next to Turku, ate me a fur stew, shot with a fir cue, crippl’d the curfew, perdur’d my purview. Come at last to the A Street crossing, there met fine flirt-gills five. The first one gives me a kick, the second says ‘he ain’t no cozier chick, nor no fletcher flick, let ‘s give him a labras lick,’ the third asks ‘what ‘s his shtick?’ and the fourth says ‘back in a tick, holp him quick.’ Well so let ‘s go, says I, for a amble hand in hamble, says I, but the fifth girl pops me right in the eye with the cry: ‘Go d’rect to Hell-sinki!’ So I hie me to Helsinki, and they slaps me in a cell stinky, and they frisk me and they bisque me, then whisk me outta there, saying ‘go now, begone, lightning-bolt-boy!’ And me, I hit the open road, fitchew like me, e’er happy, me, whose heart is like a sealskin tobaccy pouch. So I go a-wandering, val-deri, val-dera, my knapsack on my back; come to Häme, clumb up in the Kuninkala pulpit, and then comes the amen splat!” |
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Questions: What is Lauri’s mood in this mock-sermon? What do you think he’s trying to achieve with it, and why? Does it sound and feel alive to you? (Version 1929) The Finnish original is written in a stylized dialect that now sounds rather archaic. Has the translator attempted to reproduce that archaic dialect? If not, has the translator used a standardized version of the target language, or a colloquial version without slang, or a slangy vernacular, or what? Whichever way the translator went with the archaic dialect, does the attempt seem successful to you? Why or why not? (Version 1929) Does this passage sound like any existing novel you know in the target language, or like a certain author, or like a period novelistic style that you recognize? If so, what or whom? Does that feeling of familiarity make you like the passage more, or less, or have no effect on your response? (Version 1929) If you had time, would you want to read this entire translation? Why or why not? (Does it make you say “wow!”? Are you astonished at its brilliance?) (Version 1929) Does this translated passage make you think that Aleksis Kivi might be a great writer of World Literature, or not? Why or why not? (Version 1929)
Questions: What is Lauri’s mood in this mock-sermon? What do you think he’s trying to achieve with it, and why? Does it sound and feel alive to you? (Version 1991) The Finnish original is written in a stylized dialect that now sounds rather archaic. Has the translator attempted to reproduce that archaic dialect? If not, has the translator used a standardized version of the target language, or a colloquial version without slang, or a slangy vernacular, or what? Whichever way the translator went with the archaic dialect, does the attempt seem successful to you? Why or why not? (Version 1991) Does this passage sound like any existing novel you know in the target language, or like a certain author, or like a period novelistic style that you recognize? If so, what or whom? Does that feeling of familiarity make you like the passage more, or less, or have no effect on your response? (Version 1991) If you had time, would you want to read this entire translation? Why or why not? (Does it make you say “wow!”? Are you astonished at its brilliance?) (Version 1991) Does this translated passage make you think that Aleksis Kivi might be a great writer of World Literature, or not? Why or why not? (Version 1991)
Questions: What is Lauri’s mood in this mock-sermon? What do you think he’s trying to achieve with it, and why? Does it sound and feel alive to you? (Version 2016) The Finnish original is written in a stylized dialect that now sounds rather archaic. Has the translator attempted to reproduce that archaic dialect? If not, has the translator used a standardized version of the target language, or a colloquial version without slang, or a slangy vernacular, or what? Whichever way the translator went with the archaic dialect, does the attempt seem successful to you? Why or why not? (Version 2016) Does this passage sound like any existing novel you know in the target language, or like a certain author, or like a period novelistic style that you recognize? If so, what or whom? Does that feeling of familiarity make you like the passage more, or less, or have no effect on your response? (Version 2016) If you had time, would you want to read this entire translation? Why or why not? (Does it make you say “wow!”? Are you astonished at its brilliance?) (Version 2016) Does this translated passage make you think that Aleksis Kivi might be a great writer of World Literature, or not? Why or why not? (Version 2016)
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Message from: Ivan Delazari ( Scholar ) on 16 January 2016 02:06:16 AM (GMT+8)
He's whining and moaning, and doesn't sound the "always merry lad" he says he is. Which means he's being ironic praising himsel for being one. He sounds drunk, as if he has problems formulating his heavy-headed thoughts. It might feel alive, but pretty weird, too.