Di Manrico genitrice

An exploration of the translation of this phrase --

Oscura as an adjective means "dark"; however, the Italian verb "to darken" is "oscurare" (thus, "oscura" as a third person verb can be translated as "[he, she, it] darkens / is darkening [something]"

Perhaps the librettist made the verb reflexive (oscurarsi) so that "il ciel(o) s'oscura" could be better translated as "the sky darkens / is darkening itself"

Taken even further, the word "cielo" means both "sky" and "heaven" (leaving off the last vowel is not uncommon in Italian poetic and musical works, in my experience), and "oscurare" can also mean "to hide" (as in, to obscure) and "oscurarsi" "to hide oneself". Therefore -- although this may be stretching it, it is interesting to consider -- the phrase could have the double meaning of "heaven hides / is hiding itself". Of course, we need to look in the context of the phrase to see whether this double-meaning translation is warranted.

Either way, this only proves your point that operatic Italian is more fascinating and complex than we can get from the literal translations of opera houses.

Hi, Greg

I liked your post about language. I remember when the Met opened Pique Dame, Lisa was waxing suicidal down by the river at the beginning of Act III and when Gherman showed up and sang something presumably along the lines of "What troubles you?" the English title read: "What's the matter?" as if she had just stubbed her toe. The audience cracked up, and by the second performance, the title was gone.

But back to Verdi and verismo. You're absolutely right in your reading of the Italian style, which is almost comically literary, especially when you think about the fact that these operas were written at a time of popular upheaval and rampant bourgeoisification of the audience, and that they were a source of pop hits and village band music. Da Ponte's librettos, by contrast, still sound modern and direct, even if you allow for certain usage changes.

I wonder, though: would capturing - or imitating - the style of Boito's librettos really do a service to anyone? How much does it help to translate:

Recondita armonia di bellezze diverse!
È bruna Floria, l'ardente amante mia,
e te, beltade ignota
cinta di chiome bionde!

as

Recondite harmonies of variegated beauty!
She is chestnut-haired - Floria, ardent lover of mine,
and you, o nameless pulchritude,
are swathed in blond locks.
?

I think the audience would barely get a chance to look at the stage.

Incidentally, there's another peculiarly operatic linguistic habit in late 19th century/early 20th c. opera: The narrative use of the imperfect, which you could faithfully, but preposterously translate with the English gerund. So the first verse of E lucevan le stelle would become:

And the stars were shining,
and the earth was smelling sweet,
the garden gate was scraping,
and a step was brushing the sand.
She was coming in, fragrant,
and was fallling into my arms.

Why did they do this? Not to be true to life - nobody ever spoke this way.

Cheers,

Justin

Hi, Greg -

I missed your first piece on Italian opera translations, but yes, they stuff that is published is often pretty far off the mark.

However - though "cielo" is the complete form of the word, it's often used without the masculine-determiner "o" - especially as an exclamation: "O ciel!" - which is something along the lines of "Holy shit!" but more polite. And Tatiana was right there - the s'
before the verb is reflexive, the sky darkens itself; a good simple translation would be "the heavens darken" - something which suggests gloomy dark clouds blotting out the sun, blotting out hope.

Not that the Trovatore libretto is particularly poetic. But one must work with what one has. The emotional tone is everything, and it's important to be as economical with words as possible (as Justin suggests).

Love it, Suzanne. Thanks.

My favorite moments in the Trovatore libretto come in the last-act duet for the Count and Leonora. She tells him to drink her blood and trample on her corpse, he says he wants to multiply Manrico's death a hundred times, amid a thousand ghastly spasms. (These are their exact words, rendered into English.)
And in the Count's lines, we have something both over the top and economical: "Fra mille atroce spasimi centuplicar sua morte." Those last three words mean "multiply his death a hundred times," but "multiply a hundred times" can be said in one over the top Italian word, "centuplicar."

Interesting discussion!

Let me just point out that a translated opera libretto and opera supertitles are very different animals. The former should certainly be a complete, literal, and stylistically accurate rendering of an opera's original-language text and diction.

In sharp contrast, the highest priorities for opera supertitles are clarity and economy, allowing them to be quickly and easily parsed, so that the viewers may remain as focused on the stage action as possible. Of course, the best supertitle writers are able to accomplish this while remaining reasonably faithful to the meaning of, and suggesting the literary flavor and tone of, the original language text.

In the context of supertitles, slavishly literal translation will more often than not distract the audience's attention from the stage by demanding inordinate time to read and/or provoking unwelcome laughter.

Hi, Greg -

I know you've moved past this topic, but I was at the Met's Traviata dress rehearsal today - really excellent - and I paid attention to the titles, in English and German. I thought they were very good: not intrusive, not too literal (translations should interpretive, not literal, in any case)and quite intelligent. Fine job overall.

I also considered the verbal intelligibility factor. I was seated at the front/center of the Grand Tier - surely prime territory acoustically - a good distance from the stage, so the sounds would blend and carry well. I know Traviata "by heart" - memorized it (and many other operas) as a teenager many years ago (following a childhood during which I memorized reams of lyric and dramatic poetry - some of us are born geeks)so I knew all the words. If I hadn't known all the words, I would hardly have been able to understand much of the text as it was sung. This was not the fault of the singers. It was, as I suggested before, a combination of elements: the blending of sounds in a large auditorium; the factor of the orchestra; the problem of articulation, especially in rapid passages and/or where the tessitura, the general "lay" of the vocal writing, is high, that is, around the top of the staff. (Whichever staff you're using)

I think the Met's titles are a real aid to opera audiences, and they have the virtue of being discreet as well.