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Élelmiszertechnológiai horror

Hungarian translation Szabó Lőrinc
biológia, élelmiszer-technológia, sörkészítés

A sörkészítés részletes technológiájának játékos allegóriáját afféle horror-paródiaként olvashatjuk az alábbi költeményben:

There were three Kings intoa the east,
Three Kings both great and high,
And they have sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycornb should die.		 Fogadta három keleti
nép nagy király-ura:
Árpa Jankónak — eskü rá! —
halált kell halnia.
They took a plough and ploughed him down,
Put clodsc upon his head,
And they have sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.		 Eke kivágta, a kapa
rája rögöt huzott,
s hirdette új, nagy eskü, hogy
Árpa Jankó halott.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sored surprised them all.		 De jött a szép derűs tavasz
s hulltak langy záporok,
és Árpa Jankó talpra állt
s féltek a gyilkosok.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel armed with pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.		 Jöttek a hő nyár napjai,
s nőtt Jankó ereje:
fejét dárda-kör védte, hogy
ne bántsa senki se.
The sober Autumn entered mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Showed he began to fail.		 S jött szelíden az édes ősz,
s ő sápadt, gyenge lett,
rogyó szára, csüggedt feje
mutatta, hogy beteg.
His colour sickened more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To shew their deadly rage.		 Egyre fakóbb lett, öregebb
s fájó tekintetű:
s ellenségeiből kitört
a rejtett, régi düh.
They’ve ta’ene a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.		 Térde alatt levágta nagy
és éles fegyverök:
és vitték, megkötve, kocsin,
mint egy gonosztevőt.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgelledf him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o’er and o’er.		 Hanyatt fektették: s rá, nehéz
furkókkal! s újra rá!
Akasztották szelek elé,
s forgatták föl s alá.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heavedg in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.		 S töltöttek gödröt peremig
folyók vizeivel,
s beledobták: ússzék, ha tud,
ha nem, merüljön el!
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And still, as signs of life appeared,
They tossed him to and fro.		 Teregették a szérüre
s úgy kínozták tovább,
és amint életjelt adott,
lökték idébb-odább.
They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller used him worst of all,
For he crushed him between two stones.		 Bősz láng aszalta, perzselő,
a csontja velejét:
s két kő között porrá zúzta egy
molnár, a fő-pribék.
And they hae ta’en his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.		 Csapolták szívéből a vért
s itták köröskörül,
és mennél többet, a szívük
annál jobban örült.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
’Twill make your courage rise;		 Árpa Jankó nagy és nemes
vitéz volt, büszke hős:
vérét ha csak kóstolod is,
bátor leszel s erős.
’Twill make a man forget his woe;
’Twill heighten all his joy:
’Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.		 Bút-bajt feledtet az a vér
és örömöt növel:
dalol az özvegy tőle, bár
szemét könny önti el.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne’er fail in old Scotland!		 Árpa Jankót éltesse hát
mindnyájunk pohara:
dús fiai ne tűnjenek
skót földünkről soha!

(Szabó Lőrinc fordítása)

ainto — in (Scottish)

bbarley — Gerste, orge

cclods — lumps of earth

dsore — very much

eta’en — taken

fcudgel — beat with a club

gheave — lift, throw

Beküldendő a szerző neve és a műfordítás címe.


Robert Burns: John Barleycorn. A ballad.

[Keletkezett: 1787 és 1795 között. Magyar címe: Árpa Jankó. Burns, verseit skót dialektusban írta, azonban dalainak többsége népdalok módosításaként keletkezett, így skót és angol kifejezések keverednek bennük. A fenti — helyesírásilag egyszerűsített — szöveg iskolai felhasználásra szolgál.]

A M.É.Z. együttes által énekelt skót népdal szövege Burns versének szövege
There were three men came out of the west
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn should die.
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in
Throbbed clods upon his head
And these three men were satisfied
John Barleycorn was dead.
Then they let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall
Then little Sir John sprung up his head
And soon amazed them all.		 There was three Kings into the east,
Three Kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerfu’ Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
Refrén:
There’s beer all in the barrel
And brandy in the glass
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the stronger man at last

And the huntsman he can`t hunt the fox
Nor so loudly blow his horn
And the thinker he can’t mend his pots
Without John Barleycorn.
They let him stand till midsummer’s time
Till he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John he growed a long beard
And so became a man.		 The sober Autumn enter’d mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d he began to fail.
His colour sicken’d more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To shew their deadly rage.
They hired men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee
They rolled him and tied him by the waist
And served him most barbarously
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks
Who pricked him to the heart
And the loader he served him worse than that
For he bound him to the cart
They wheeled him round and round the field
Till they came unto a barn
And there they made a solemn mow
Of poor John Barleycorn		 They’ve ta’en a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn’d him o’er and o’er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And still, as signs of life appear’d,
They toss’d him to and fro.
They hired men with the crab-tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone
And the miller he served him worse than that
For he ground him between two stones		 They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.
And they hae ta’en his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
’Twill make your courage rise;
’Twill make a man forget his woe;
’Twill heighten all his joy:
’Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne’er fail in old Scotland!
Refrén
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