Pythagoras by moonlight: a translation and explication of Lorca's El Concierta Interrumpido

CROSS RES , b=. 319 a PYTHAGORAS BY MOONLIGHT: A TRANSLATION AND EXPLICATION OF LORCA’S EL CONCIERTO INTERRUMPIDO El Concierto Interrumpido The Interrupted Concert Ha roto la armonia De la noche profunda The cold and somnolent pause-mark Of the crescent moon Has broken the harmony Of the deep night. El calderón helado y soñaliento De la media luna. Las acequias protestan sordamente, Arropadas con juncias, Y las ranas, muecines de la sombra, Se han quedado mudas. En la vieja taberna del poblado Cesö la triste música, Y ha puesto la sordina a su ariston La estrella más antigua. El viento se ha sentado en los torcales De la montaña obscura, Y un chopo solitario - el Pitágoras De la casta llanura — Quiere dar con su mano centenaria Un cachete a la luna.' The channels, clad in sedges, Protest in silence, And the frogs, muezzins of darkness, Have held their peace. In the old village tavern The sad music stops, And the more ancient star Has placed the mute on its barrel-orgun On the gloomy mountain's caverned sides The wind has died down, And a solitary poplar - the Pythagoras Of the level plain — Tries to give the moon a blow With its age-old hand. Itis night, and Lorca stands outdoors, alone, within earshot of the tavern. From behind à cloud the crescent moon appears, its form suggesting the musical pause-mark @, and all at once four of the night's sounds are no longer heard. The channels which have been earher Silhouette of a full-grown black poplar (approximate height thirty metres) lain at the extremity of the poplar's shadow. The tree and n Fight-angled triangle, and Lorca's eye. ranging up to the top ss ethee hypotenuse. l imagi its shadow su i of the tree, draws » swollen by rain, and so have run noisily, now carry a smaller volume of water whose Passage is slow and maudible. The frogs that normally would be in mid-chorus are silent. The tavern music comes to an end. The wind has ceased. Now N may indicate either (i) a momentary prolongment of one note or chord in the middle of a piece, or (ii) a prolongment of a picce’s final note or chord (in effect, the end of the music). Lorca's à is really a mixture of both (i) and (ii): fur the moon, while appearing in the middle of the nocturnal music, brings it to a violent and unexpected close. Night's armonia is composed of several strands which should cach enter and depart at different times: but by forcing the strands to stop simultancously, the moon breaks their natural counterpoint. Now to the frogs. If the word muecinex is casily translated, it may be fully appreciated only by dwellers in a land where the Moriscoes stayed until 1610. “Muezzin" is a remote. exotic word to an Englishman; to a literate Spaniard, however, the word muecín connotes forms of regularity and reliability that are bound up with religious obligation. The effect af the word here is therefore much stronger than if Lorca had said heraldos: when the muecines cease their proclamations, something is badly wrong. À Ariston was in its day a houschold word, as universal in usage as “transistor” in the ‘sixties or “stereo” today. The Ariston, a disc-playing organcite, was the best-known produci of the Leipzig firm of Paul Ehrlich. By 1890 well over two hundred thousand Aristons were distributed across the world, 11 is therefore not surprising that by the end of the century Ariston had hecome an eponym in several languages of “barrel-organ.” The sound of some player reed organs could be modified by setting mutes and partial mutes over Ihe open ends of the reed cells. If Lorca’s sordina is such a mule, we must understand his use of the word ariston to be imprecise, and to indicate some kind ofplayer recd organ. Whatever the case, however, the best word to use in translation is “barrel-organ.” It is hardly necessary to emphasize that 4 mute reduces the volume of an instrument (so far from rendering its sound inaudible); so Lorca's sordina cannal possibly be construed as a bringer of silence. Chopo is the black poplar, populus nigra, which we British know both from Constable's East Anglian paintings and from the modern industrial north of England, where it has been much used as a screening tree. Lorca's anthropomorphic conceit mano indicates a poplar leafless in late autumn, when its silhouette really does suggest a huge, polydactyl hand, Neophilologus 74 (1990) 318-320 shadow ef trec-trunk Lorca proposiiangle leads Lorca to think of the forty-seventh ighti tradition Pythagoras î , Pythagoras. Accwording to mythical Pell desire and of its discoverer uclid, peer i Pene eg en on a mirror, held it up to the moon, and caused his characters to bereflected Lorca À eghors = pere A on the lunar surface. This tradition, pus Il may i also trying to strike the moon. hope i 3. as the music (presumably of a barrel-organ) in the tavern qu sette; i pa (La estrella mas antigua) is compelled to correspond by pane 4 mute on laying, the moon ie barrel-organ. What on earth does this mean? Well, since a mute does not silence an instru-

PYTHAGORAS BY MOONLIGHT: A TRANSLATION AND EXPLICATION OF LORCA’S EL CONCIERTO INTERRUMPIDO The Interrupted Concert Ha roto la armonia De la noche profunda El calderon helado y soñoliento De la media luna. The cold and somnolent pause-mark Of the crescent moon Has broken the harmony Of the deep night. Las acequias protestan sordamente, The channels, clad in sedges, Arropadas con juncias, Y las ranas, muecines de la sombra, Protest in silence, And the frogs, muezzins of darkness, Se han quedado mudas. Have held their peace. En la vieja taberna del poblado Cesö la triste musica, Y ha puesto la sordina a su ariston La estrella mas antigua. In the old village tavern The sad music stops, And the more ancient star Has placed the mute on its barrel-organ. El viento se ha sentado en los torcales De la montana obscura, Y un chopo solitario — el Pitagoras De la casta llanura — Quiere dar con su mano centenaria On the gloomy mountain’s caverned sides Un cachete a la luna.! The wind has died down, And a solitary poplar — the Pythagoras Of the level plain — Tries to give the moon a blow With its age-old hand. It is night, and Lorca stands outdoors, alone, within earshot of the tavern. From behind a cloud the crescent moon appears, its form suggesting the musical pause-mark a, and all at once four of the night’s sounds are no longer heard. The channels which have been earlier swollen by rain, and so have run noisily, now carry a smaller volume of water whose passage is slow and inaudible. The frogs that normally would be in mid-chorus are silent. The tavern music comes to an end. The wind has ceased. Now n may indicate either (i) a momentary prolongment of one note or chord in the middle of a piece, or (11) a prolongment of a piece’s final note or chord (in effect, the end of the music). Lorca’s à is really a mixture of both (1) and (11): for the moon, while appearing in the middle of the nocturnal music, brings it to a violent and unexpected close. Night’s armonia is composed of several strands which should each enter and depart at different times: but by forcing the strands to stop simultaneously, the moon breaks their natural counterpoint. Now to the frogs. If the word muecines is easily translated, it may be fully appreciated only by dwellers in a land where the Moriscoes stayed until 1610. “Muezzin” is a remote, exotic word to an Englishman; to a literate Spaniard, however, the word muecin connotes forms of regularity and reliability that are bound up with religious obligation. The effect of the word here is therefore much stronger than if Lorca had said heraldos: when the muecines cease their proclamations, something is badly wrong. Ariston was in its day a household word, as universal in usage as “transistor” in the ‘sixties or “stereo” today. The Ariston, a disc-playing organette, was the best-known product of the Leipzig firm of Paul Ehrlich. By 1890 well over two hundred thousand Aristons were distributed across the world. It is therefore not surprising that by the end of the century Ariston had become an eponym in several languages of “barrel-organ.” The sound of some player reed organs could be modified by setting mutes and partial mutes over the open ends of the reed cells. If Lorca’s sordina is such a mute, we must understand his use of the word aristön to be imprecise, and to indicate some kind of player reed organ. Whatever the case, however, the best word to use in translation is “barrel-organ.” It is hardly necessary to emphasize that a mute reduces the volume of an instrument (so far from rendering its sound inaudible); so Lorca’s sordina cannot possibly be construed as a bringer of silence. Chopo is the black poplar, populus nigra, which we British know both from Constable’s East Anglian paintings and from the modern industrial north of England, where it has been much used as a screening tree. Lorca’s anthropomorphic conceit mano indicates a poplar leafless in late autumn, when its silhouette really does suggest a huge, polydactyl hand. Neophilologus 74 (1990) 318-320

Silhouette of a full-grown black poplar (approximate height thirty metres) I imagine Lorca standing on the plain at the extremity of the poplar’s shadow. The tree and its shadow suggest two arms of a right-angled triangle, and Lorca’s eye, ranging up to the top of the tree, draws the hypotenuse. à PN N =FS Na NI Cnn > LA À shadow of tree-trunk Lorca Then the notion of a right-angled triangle leads Lorca to think of the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid, and of its discoverer, Pythagoras. According to mythical tradition Pythagoras wrote characters on a mirror, held it up to the moon, and caused his characters to be reflected on the lunar surface. This tradition, operating in Lorca’s memory, is at work in his conception of the chopo trying to strike the moon. It may also be seen at work in the curious construction of stanza 3; as the music (presumably of a barrel-organ) in the tavern stops playing, the moon (La estrella mas antigua) is compelled to correspond by putting a mute on its barrel-organ. What on earth does this mean? Well, since a mute does not silence an instru-

ment, as we have seen, and since the moon’s only “music” is its light, the sordina at the natural level must be a cloud — crossing the moon’s face, and reducing its light in reply to the tellurian silence. To Pythagoras and his disciples, of course, there was more to the moon’s music than its light. In the famous doctrine of “the music of the spheres,” the Pythagoreans combined their musical and astronomical discoveries. The velocities of the heavenly bodies depend upon their distance from a central “fire;” the slower and nearer bodies emit a deep note, the swifter ones a high note; the concert of the whole yields the cosmic octave; in fact, the entire heavens constitute a musical scale. English readers will be familiar with the doctrine from Lorenzo’s speech in The Merchant of Venice, Act V, Scene I: How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. (Shakespeare’s musical luminaries may owe something to the Old Testament. In Job 38. 7 the Lord describes the dawn of creation, When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shoutedfor joy.) Leaving other literature aside, we shall find several hints of Pythagorean doctrine in the work of Lorca. In ¡Cigarra! he describes the cicada as estrella sonora.” In Elegia del silencio he refers to ...la música eterna, La harmonia sonora De luz...3 In Prólogo he conceives of El rigodón de los astros.* And in Mar he speaks of Venus as La harmonia del mundo. Such hints as these preclude a purely naturalistic understanding of the moon’s ariston in El Concierto Interrumpido (even if ultimately the idea of the moon’s “obedience” to something done on earth is taken to be a fanciful piece of irony). Two words in stanza 4 - solitario and llanura— may refer obliquely to Pythagoras the mathematician. Numbers in the Pythagorean system are spacially conceived, and one is identified with the point in the sense of a unit having both position and magnitude. Something of this notion may lie behind Lorca’s chopo solitario. Llanura, the plain, may signify to some degree the plane surfaces of geometry. Now, standing aside from the explication of details, let us try to work out what is actually going on in the poem. As soon as the moon appears four nocturnal sounds come to an end (either in reality, or in Lorca’s fancy). The lunar antiquity both highlights and negates the transient life of earth. A poplar (whose life-span is a mere century) suggests Pythagoras, who represents all intelligent, inquisitive humanity. Pythagoras attempted to understand the entire universe by studying music, mathematics, and astronomy: but humanity has as much chance of understanding the universe as the poplar has of striking the moon. If there is much complexity in this poem, there is no hope. Belfast DAVID Z. CROOKES Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Federico Garcia Lorca, Obras Completas, Madrid 1957, p. 184 0.c.,p. 117 o.c., p. 147 o.c., p. 169