Alexandru Andries: Our Menu

This is a simple, delightful song, without a proper chorus, as it were, with a repetitive and catchy melody, very much typical of the offerings of Alexandru Andrieş; maybe a little more more erotic than usual.

Because this is actually a song, I had to pay extra-attention to the rhythm and fluidity of each stanza. At times (ok, many times) this turned into an adaptation rather than a translation.

Here are some of the more significant "treasons" I’ve committed in this adaptation:

"Degetele tale toate
Sint ca sarea in bucate"

translated by:

"Your long fingers, fine and shrill
Are like spices on a grill."

"Ca sarea in bucate" is sort of a consecrated phrase in Romanian and it means "tops," "delicious"–literally, "like salt in food," or in other fairy-tale versions, "as dear as salt." It comes from a fairy tale retold by Ion Creanga (for more stories of this type, see here.). And yes, I am aware "shrill" does not exactly apply to "fingers," but I thought that in this erotic synaesthesia, it’s possible to share all sorts of inappropriate epithets between the parts of the body. I haven’t found a suitable alternative yet! Plus, when the text is so rhyme-heavy (3-4-2 rhymes per stanza), one must make a compromise or two.

Next:

"Cum respiri, cum se prefac
In cornite tari de drac"

is translated by

"When you breathe, they rise and moan
And they harden like they’re stone"

A literal translation is, "When you breathe, they turn into/ Hard little devil’s horns."

Finally:

Care-ascund sub stropi de roua
Un secret de nota noua
Nota zece, domnilor,
Este pentru profesori."

is translated by:

"Hiding, under a dew bell
A sweet secret, kept so well-
We’re the only ones to know
We won’t tell, and we won’t show."

First, "stropi de roua" is really just "dew drops." I needed a lot of rhymes in "-ell" though, so I thought "dew bell" would be an acceptable poetic compromise (it’s something you can "hide" things under). I totally deviated from the original at the end. Literally, the translation should be: "An nine-point secret/A ten, as we know/Is just for teachers." (9 is A- and 10 is A, on a scale from 1 to 10, commonly used in Romanian schools). I used to have a teacher actually who subscribed to the philosophy that no student deserved a 10, since no student could be as perfect as she was, and only she deserved 10; the best we could do was a 9. (Yes, stupid, I know, however, apparently popular among a certain crop of Bucharest teachers). At any rate, this is the ironic, playful Andries that we know and love, poking gentle fun at his love interest. I found this untranslatable because the whole philosophy behind it (A, or 10, is only for teachers!) would be completely foreign in English-speaking countries (or so I think). Instead, I played up the "secret" angle, and worked it out into a tenable rhyme.

And now, the whole poem:

LISTA NOASTRA DE BUCATE de Alexandru Andries Parul blond taiat in scari, Buzele cu tot cu nari Sint desigur doar gustari– Nu tin de foame. Degetele tale toate Sint ca sarea in bucate Lasa-ma intins pe spate Sa le gust pe saturate Cind mi-e foame ca acum Nu ma satur orisicum. Limba ta ca o sageata Sta invelita in sal de vata Toata fum si miere toata Daca mi-e foame. Rasuflarea-ntretaiata In pahar de sticla mata Face pofta mai bogata Daca o bei din git, deodata Ochii intorsi spre vise, Toate caile deschise. La lumina grea de noapte Sint pufosi ca niste soapte Umerii, caise coapte Care fac foame. Si intre umeri si stomac Doua dealuri tandre tac Cum respiri, cum se prefac In cornite tari de drac Stim de asta numai noi Felul intii, si felul doi. Genunchii tai sint niste sfere Rotunjite de placere Au miros si gust de mere Si iara mi-e foame. Soldurile amindoua Sint ca niste coji de oua Care-ascund sub stropi de roua Un secret de nota noua Nota zece, domnilor, Este pentru profesori.

OUR MENU by Alexandru Andries Golden hair with wavy trim, Nostrils, lips, a bit of chin– Appetizers on a whim Can’t fool my hunger. Your long fingers, fine and shrill, Are like spices on a grill Let me taste them, have my fill, While I’m lying down, at will When I’m hungry like I’m now I will take time, I know how. Your tongue is pointed like an arrow Wrapped in cotton candy, narrow, It’s all mist and honey marrow If I’m hungry. Your gasping breath just makes me bounce As I’m drinking, ounce by ounce, Gets my appetite to flounce If I drink it all at once Your eyes turned to dreaming All the paths ahead are gleaming. In the heavy moonlight glow Sweet ripe apricots below Shoulders whisper soft hello They make me hungry again. And between belly and shoulders Two tender, soft and silent boulders When you breathe, they rise and moan And they harden like they’re stone Only we know this, of course, The first course, the second course. Your knees are two gentle spheres Round with pleasure when I’m near, They taste and smell like apples, dear, And I’m hungry again. Your hips are tender as they swell, Gently curved like an egg shell Hiding, under a dew bell A sweet secret, kept so well- We’re the only ones to know We won’t tell, and we won’t show.