Perfect: English Autobiography

I took up the idea of creating English lyrics for Perfect's Autobiography following Pacze Moj's first post with video and second post with progressing versions. I've managed to complete something, which while far from perfect, I reckon deserves a C+ for effort. How did the original go again?



What I've tried to do is create 'sing along to the original' lyrics that give the right flavour to the song. The result is:

I was only ten:
We first heard about him then;
In my basement we made our club.
My pal's radio played:
Our first hearing 'Blue Suede Shoes'
And I couldn't sleep that night.

The changing wind it blew,
Those imprisoned were set free:
Once again, we laughed and joked.
Café’s buzzing scene,
Like tornadoes, jazz blew clean:
Just to play,
That was my right.

Father, God only knows,
Why our factory he did close.
Me? My finger nail came off,
Shaving fretted my throat,
Playing loads of magic? Nope!
And I found the thrill of sex.

Music Postcard craze,
Found five hundred in those days;
Didn't get a new pair of jeans.
And come Saturday night,
Luxembourg, a cabin, drink:
Oh, how much,
We wanted life!

There were us three.
Though in our blood we were free,
But with one overwhelming goal:
In several years,
Have the world at our heels,
Grind it down in the dirt.

Alpaga plonk,
And discussions 'til dawn,
Our wakened spirits never able to rest.
Who punched whose nose?
And then tears for this flowed:
Things happening.

Separated us,
Perfect Pola Raska's face;
All ready to die for this.
On a summer night,
On a blanket in moonlight,
What I wanted then, I found.

She said quick to me that our problems they might come.
I said I worked for my exam;
She turned up the heat.
After some time, we don't meet.
Once again,
Me alone.

New faces I claim
To mask out my pain.
Life taught me much more than they did.
Dossed on the floor,
Just killing off time.
Our greatest time

Pub visit for cheers,
Klezmer asked me to play;
So much rubbish that still I go red.
One certain day,
Figured out that I knew:
Nothing at all.

Hearing my past,
Overcoming at last
Coming real then was my greatest dream:
The thousandth crowd,
Drinking words from my mouth,
All loving me.

A hotel, a fan,
Saying "recorder I ran
That's just how a real throat should sing".
I open the door,
Saying nothing at all:
Blank walls never can

It reads pretty awfully, but many song lyrics do. So how does it sound? Here's an enhanced lektor style video of a nearly completed version: you can see work in progress if you look closely.

Given that I am trying to translate a song between languages that have little equivalence in word syllables; where word and sentence stress is different; and where, as in this song, natural sentence structure can be very different, I forgive myself the strange English. Some explanations, however.

My lines: "Father, God only knows, why our factory he did close", comes from the original lines "Father, God only knows, where he put the Martenowski (open hearth) furnace". I have interpreted this as a reference to the furnaces being built in Poland, but through some distant decision making process, not installed here. It is therefore a complaint about economic failure. My reference to factory closure is intended to reflect this, but makes it accessible to a foreign audience. It adds a touch of irony related to the modern situation, where factories are moved to Poland. Other interpretations I immediately think of are: Martenowski was also slang for a domestic heater of some sort, which no one could find after Dad put it away (although I have found no internet reference to this slang); or it asks why Dad has lost his red hot, fiery enthusiasm. My interpretation could therefore be completely wrong even in its intention. Is the direct relationship of 'Father' and 'God' obvious in Polish eg from the Pope being Father of the World?

I would have translated "Klezmer asked me to play", as "Busker asked me to play", but Kompas Translator has an excellent English dictionary. Webster's Third New International [English] Directory tells me Klezmer is "a Jewish instrumentalist; a member of a band of folk musicians in Eastern Europe hired to play at Jewish weddings and gatherings". I intend it to sound like a name in the song, but it is a hidden reference to Poland's cultural past. I wonder if Perfect (or Bogdan Olewicz, who seems to have written the words) knew about this?

Since use of English seems to be quite fashionable at the moment, perhaps Perfect would like to put it on their next album. Obviously, I claim full money grabbing rights - OK, Pacze Moj may deserve a couple of quid too.