Unknown–Ode to Tanase

When I was young (really young), and the Communists still ruled Romania, one of the simple pop culture joys that was not denied to us was almanacs. Charmingly antiquated, right? Well, traditional media was  all propaganda, and the computer culture hadn’t yet entered the scene, and there was nothing to shop for. Did I forget something? Oh yeah: movie theaters sucked and good music was hard to impossible to find. I think that pretty much covers all bases.

So! One such almanac that I read and enjoyed when I was about nine (3rd grade, I remember) was some sort of Humorous or Satire Almanac (possibly, "Almanah Satira"?), packed with…well, I guess, whatever passed for humor those days. Often, references were made to a happier, freer, pre-communist time, and that’s what I was attracted to.

I remember liking this poem, a lot for my 9-year old self, so much so that I did the only thing I knew in order to pay homage to it and learned it by heart. 24 years later, I still remember it quite well–well, except for two lines in the first stanza, which seem to have completely vanished from my memory.

This is one of those ephemeral pieces of art that are funny only insofar you know the person or object it is referring to. Also, in this case, knowing the culture and local hangouts would probably also help. To my regret, I have no idea who wrote it–it’s not anonymous, for sure, but it’s next to impossible for me to discover now the author of this funny poem.

The poem was written probably in the 30s (possibly 20s) and it’s about Constantin Tanase, arguably our greatest comic of the interwar years (yes, that’s an English Wikipedia entry). He was apparently "retired" by Communists in 1945, after he made fun of the nasty habits of the invading Red Army in Romania. To understand this poem, however, all you need to know is that he had a really, really big nose. (As an aside, he was born in Vaslui, where I was born, too, and not too many famous Romanians were born there, you know–so I’ll take that!).

Without further ado, I give you…

Odă lui Tănase O, zeilor, mi-aţi dat, în glumă, un nas aşa de prelungit Că spintecă văzduhu-n două şi se propteşte-n infinit. Când joc pe scenă şi spre stele-nalţ bicisnica-mi trompetă Observatoarele anunţă că-n România e-o cometă; Nemţoaicele de la Alhambra uimite ţipă: Gott sei Dank! Căci nasul meu, privit din faţă, îţi dă iluzia de tanc! Eroii cârni ai Capitalei care-au luptat pe metereze Ii cer guvernului, ca jertfă, de nas să mă exproprieze, Iar invalizii cu tarabe cer să le facă chilipir: Din nara-mi dreaptă o regie, iar din cea stângă un tractir. Cu toate criticile aspre, incontestabil ai rămas Dintre talente, cel mai mare, o, respectabilul meu nas. Aş prefera mai bine moartea, sau să ma calce chiar tramvaiul Decât cu ploile de-acuma să dea în tine guturaiul. Ar fi curată catastrofă—din mine s-ar allege praful Să fiu constrâns pe-aşa scumpete, să-mi fac batista cât cearceaful! O, nas, tu singura-mi podoabă, a treia partea-a mea din trup, Izvor de pozne şi de glume, întoarce vârful, să te pup! Amici, când voi muri, deasupră-mi, nu vreau nici piatră funerară, Nu vreau nici sălcii aplecate, lăsaţi-mi nose meu afară, Să-mi ţină loc de ornamente şi de cadou şi de statui, Şi liniştit să odihnească tot cimitiru-n umbra lui.

Ode to Tănase O, gods, in jest, no doubt, you gave me a nose so horribly enormous, It cuts straight through the stratosphere and comfortably rests in cosmos. When I’m on stage and want to raise towards the stars my precious trumpet, Observatories in Romania announce that they have seen a comet The German girls from the Alhambra are screaming, panicked, Got sei Dank! –You see, my nose, in frontal view, looks very much just like a tank! Our snub-nosed heroes, who the ramparts defended bravely, with elation, Ask, from the state, repairs: my speedy nose-expropriation; And invalid street vendors ask for proper street space, all too keen: From my left nostril, a tobacconists, and from the right one, a canteen. Despite the harsh critiques and hatred, undoubtedly you always rose Above the others as my biggest talent, oh, much-respected nose! I’d rather that I’m struck by lightning, and bid this cruel world adieu, Than with the latest epidemic, you should contract that pesky flu. It would be simply catastrophic, they’d lock me up in a straitjacket, To be under such massive pressure, to use for handkerchief a blanket! Oh, nose! A third of my whole body! I know th’entire world would miss you! Fresh spring of farces, jokes, and wonder, please turn around so I can kiss you! And so, my friends, upon my death, I want no boring funeral stone, I want no weeping willows over, I want my nose out, all alone— Instead of flowers, angels, statues, or other ornamental piece , And in its shadow, I would hope that the whole graveyard rests in peace.