Sculpin

So, a friend on LiveJournal is looking for a translation of an Italian hymn. I don’t know how to translate it, but I know a game of mistranslation. There are lots of verses left if you find yourself wanting to join in. No real rules to speak of except “amuse yourself”; you can even get some of it right if that’s what seems right. (I guess you could get all of it right, but why?)

Hampered by the frilly nightgown of the sea
Against the feminine derriere of Arabia
Come giggling into the valley that welcomes you
Spurting out life as if it were light;
The sun itself, that pious bitch,
Cannot quell what mortals give.

Not for you or me but for those holy gifts we live;
Not the little brothers of God and their chewed-up Christ
Or the gray spirits of the awful fedoras
Or the corpses of the gods sadly leaning:
Not in ten lives can they approach our joy, so hot
and unceasing is the flame of love.

Negli Estremi confini d’Egea
Dell’Arabia nell’arse contrade
Come Gigli in amena vallea
Vostra vita a la luce spunto;
E quai stelle la diva pietade
In quell’ora ai mortal vi dono.

Non per voi ma per l’alma viveste
Dei fratelli, da Cristo redenti:
Or gli spiriti alla fede traeste,
Or dei corpi leniste il dolor;
Non periglio vi tenne:era ardente
E perenne la fiamma d’amor.

(I’m going to hell, aren’t I? Oh yeah. Maybe it’s the beer talking, but I feel kinda like I just wrote hymnal slash.)

Previously.

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