“nos da la gana” (we only please, our own sweet way) is an expression of very keen and cheeky will. It’s quite an ackward task to translate it into other languages. In this poem it speaks of an insubordinate living – having as many children as we only please, feel like. If you happen to have a keener way to say it, then tell it to fellow translators in the comments square.
“Entrandito la noche” (in the little beginning of the night) is an arbitrary diminutive of the proper form “(en) entrando la noche”. The effect of the diminutive is an increased sweetness. So is it in this verse. If you happen to have an equivalent in other language, quote it please in the comments. You will definitely bless a couple o fellow translators with it 🙂
Lot as a noun and its translation. The meaning of the word in this poem is “a number of associated persons”, as in What do you lot want? The translation to Spanish is here a little awkward, because “pandilla” is quite a long word and it doesn’t fit well. Now the word “pata” is south-american enough and not for all understandable. As for Polish and German, the thing is simple, “kompania” and “Bande” are the fitting words. If you happen to have a better Spanish option, plase come over to the comments square and share it with our fellow translators 🙂
Transido, transida is a very beautiful adjective, because of the number of meanings it evoques. In its modern usage it means burdened, overwhelmed by something. But there is an older significance, that honours the latin origin trans = across. One is transido, meaning torn, driven-through by something. The polish przeszyty is a sharp ly correct translation, because it means „sewn”. By sorrow, for example, as in this poem. Yet the english writhe, which means twist, is least accurate. In the end, the german zitternd, which means trembling, tremulous, is a more decent translation.
Tired, in the meaning of worn out by excessive usage, is in this poem a wonderfully precise adjective: tired antagonisms. The polish wyświechtane gives him due honor, because of the utterly worn-out clothe it suggests. The spanish trillado is already a child of a lesser god, because it sort of narrows the meaning down just to words (the main collocation of the word is “palabras/argumentos trillados”, hackneyed words/arguments. The meaning of the german abgenutzt overlaps with the spanish trillado but in German shoes, clothes or car tires can also be abgenutzt. A person can look like abgenutzt as well (in a poem by Rilke). By the way, no german version of the poem is to be found in the free internet. If you happen to have found it, then write the info down in the comments: do not let me lead folks askew.
Throw one’s hands up. The idiom in this poem is sort of obvious for English-speakers. Yet the gesture of which it speaks looks like differently in other cultures: hands go rather down than up in despondency. Having said that, let’s see the translations that convey a similar meaning – the spanish darse por vencido means to deem oneself defeated. The polish machnąć ręką, to wave with the hand, is a very open expression: one can machnąć one’s hand hello or good-bye, you can also machnąć a handkerchief or a knife, or machnąć somebody with the hand (meaning hit them). So as a german idiomatic expression, the dictionaries keep a convincing silence. The suggested in this poem translation is terribly long and awkward. If you happen to know a better option then write it please down in the comments.
La angustia is a state of heart that is difficult to “pour” into a unique word in other languages. The polish word bezsenność, the english restlessness and the german Ruhelosigkeit are parcial, imperfect solutions, because they express but one of the feelings,embodied by la angustia – its persistent uneasiness and lack of sleep. For la angustia is indeed a bundle of things put together: fear, disquietness, anxiety, impotence, despondency, dim expectation. And these all are felt as being persistent, relentless. In this poem, la angustia is suspected of being a culture broth for the silences dwelling in letters we used to write.
Hacer el agosto, a spanish expression that means “plunder”, finds an equivalent in wreak havoc, as it is in this poem. The Polish odbierać swój łup is “to take its loot”. The German jemanden zur Beute nehmen means “take someone as prey”. These all expressions, in my feeling, are good enough for the sake of this poem. If you happen to know other, then you can share your solutions in the comments case here.