The most difficult language of the world


Thanks to the readers of Río Wang, we already know which is the most entertaining language of the world. But which is the most difficult one? Since yesterday we also know the answer to this question, thanks to Julia who has sent and to Languagehat who has published the following link, a video, in which Juan Andrés and Nicolás Ospina tell in a song, in an artificial English accent, why it is impossible to learn their own native language, Spanish. In the song every region gets what it deserves, from Argentina to Andalusia, in the proper pronunciation and musical style. Under the video we also add the original text for those who – with a good reason, as we already know – have no command of the most difficult language of the world, accompanied by our own attempt of translation, whose pitfalls also illustrate, how difficult this language in fact is.

If at times we are asked which language promises the greatest success in the shortest time, we usually point at Spanish. As of today, however, we will have to think it twice, if it is considered the most difficult by the native speakers. Although the native speaker’s perspective is often very different from that of the foreigners. After all, most Hungarians would consider the Hungarian language anything else but the most entertaining one.


Yo viajé por distintos países,
conocí las más lindas mujeres,
yo probé deliciosa comida,
yo bailé ritmos muy diferentes.

Desde México fui a Patagonia,
y en España unos años viví,
me esforcé por hablar el idioma,
pero yo nunca lo conseguí…

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición.
¡Qué difícil entender el español,
si lo aprendes, no te muevas de región!

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición.
Qué difícil es hablar el español,
Yo ya me doy por vencido “para mi país me voy.”

Yo estudiaba el castellano cuando hacia la secundaria,
de viaje de estudios nos fuimos para las Islas Canarias.
En el viaje comprendí que de español no sabía nada,
y decidí estudiar filología hispánica en Salamanca.

Terminada la carrera yo viajé a Ciudad de México,
sentía que necesitaba enriquecer mi léxico.
Muy pronto vi que con el español tenía una tara,
y decidí estudiar otros tres años
en Guadalajara.

Cuatro meses en Bolivia,
un postgrado en Costa Rica,
y unos cursos de lectura con un profesor de Cuba.
Tanto estudio y tanto esfuerzo, y al final tú ya lo ves:
ESTE IDIOMA NO SE ENTIENDE
NI AL DERECHO NI AL REVÉS!

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición.
Qué difícil es hablar el español,
yo ya me doy por vencido “para mi país me voy.”

En Venezuela compré con mi plata una camisa de pana,
Y mis amigos me decían “Ese es mi pana, ese es mi pana!”
Y en Colombia el porro es un ritmo alegre que se canta,
pero todos me miran mal cuando yo digo que me encanta.

Los chilenos dicen cuando hay algo lejos “que está a la chucha”,
y en Colombia el mal olor de las axilas “es la chucha”,
mientras tanto en Uruguay a ese olor le dicen "chivo",
y el diccionario define al chivo como a una "cabra con barbuchas".

Y cambiando una vocal la palabra queda “chucho”,
y “chucho” es un perrito en Salvador y Guatemala.
Y en Honduras es tacaño, y a Jesús le dicen Chucho,
con tantas definiciones, ¿¡cómo se usa esa puta palabra!?

Chucho es frío en Argentina,
Chucho en Chile es una cárcel,
Chucho en México si hay alguien,
con el don de ser muy hábil.

El chucho de Chucho es un chucho ladrando,
y por chucho a Chucho lo echaron al chucho,
el Chucho era frío y lo agarró un chucho
“Qué chucho”– decía,
“extraño a mi chucho”.

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición.
Qué difícil entender el español,
yo ya me doy por vencido “para mi país me voy.”

Comencé por aprender los nombres de los alimentos,
pero fríjol es "poroto" y "habichuela" al mismo tiempo.
Y aunque estaba confundido con lo que comía en la mesa,
de algo yo estaba seguro,
que ‘strawberry‘ es una fresa.

Y qué sorpresa cuando en México a mí me dijeron "fresa"
por tener ropa de Armani y pedir un buen vino en la mesa.

Con la misma ropa me dijeron "cheto" en Argentina.
“Cheto es fresa yo pensé”–, y pregunté en el mercado en la esquina:

“¿Aquí están buenas las chetas?”–, y la cajera se enojó.
“¡Andate a la re (peep) que te remil parió!”

Y –“Fresas, parce”– me dijo un colombiano mientras vio que yo mareado me sentaba en una silla.
“Hermanito no sea bruto, y apúntese en la mano:
En Buenos Aires a la fresa le dicen frutilla”.

Ya yo me cansé de pasar por idiota
digo lo que a mí me enseñan y nadie entiende ni jota
y si “ni jota” no se entiende pues pregunte en Bogotá.
Yo me rindo, me abro,
¡me voy pa’ Canadá!

Un "pastel" es un "ponqué", y un "ponqué" es una "torta",
¡y una "torta" el puñetazo que me dio una española en la boca!

Ella se veía muy linda caminando por la playa
Yo quería decirle algún piropo para conquistarla.
Me acerqué y le dije lo primero que se me ocurrió.
¡Se volteó, me gritó, me escupió y me cacheteó!

“Capullo”– yo le dije, porque estaba muy bonita.
y si capullo es un insulto, ¿quién me explica la maldita cancioncita?

(lindo capullo de alelí, si tú supieras mi dolor,
correspondieras a mi amor, y calmaras mi sufri fri fri fri)

Sufrimiento es lo que yo tengo,
y por más que yo me esfuerzo yo a ti nunca te comprendo.
Ya no sé lo que hay que hacer,
para hacerse entender,
y la plata de mis clases no quisieron devolver.

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición.
Qué difícil entender el español,
Yo ya me doy por vencido “para mi planeta me voy.”

En España al líquido que suelta la carne la gente le dice "jugo",
Por otro lado en España al jugo de frutas la gente le dice "zumo".
Me dijeron también que el sumo pontífice manda en la religión,
y yo siempre creí que un sumo era en gordo en tanga peleando en Japón.

Conocí a una andaluza, se llamaba Concepción
Su marido le decía “Concha de mi corazón”.

“Vámonos para Argentina, le dije en una ocasión”.
“Yo lo siento pero si me dices ‘concha’ creo que allá mejor no voy.”
“Pero Concha, qué te pasa, si es un muy lindo país,
hay incluso el que compara Buenos Aires con París.”
“De mi apodo allá se burlan de la forma más mugrienta
y siempre hay cada pervertido que de paso se calienta”.

Y con tantos anglicismos todo es más complicado
si traduces textualmente no tienen significado:

“I will call you back”–,
te diría cualquier gringo,
“¡Yo te llamo pa trá”-,
te dicen en Puelto Lico!

Y "ojos" es "eyes", "ice" es "hielo", ¡"yellow" el color de la yema del huevo!
"Oso" es "bear", y "ver" es "see",
"Si" es una nota que en inglés es "B"…

Y aparte "B" es una "abeja" y también es "ser",
y "Sir" Michael le decía a mi profe de inglés.

Y el que cuida tu edificio es un "guachimán",
y con los chicos de tu barrio sales a "hanguear".
Y la glorieta es un "romboy",
y te vistes con ‘overol’.

¿¡¿¿Por qué tiene que ser tan difícil saber cómo diablos hablar español!?!?

No es que no quiera, perdí la paciencia,
¡la ciencia de este idioma no me entra en la consciencia!
yo creía que cargando un diccionario en mi mochila,
y anotando en un diario todas las palabras que durante el día aprendía,

y leyendo, viajando, charlando, estudiando
y haciendo amigos en cada esquina
y probando todo tipo de comida y comprando enciclopedias y antologías,

¡¡¡¡YO PENSÉ QUE APRENDERÍA
Y QUE CON FE LO LOGRARÍA
MIS ESFUERZOS FUERON EN VANO!!!!

Yo creía que hablaría el castellano pero YA NO (no no no no)…

Qué difícil es hablar el español,
porque todo lo que dices tiene otra definición

“En Chile "polla" es una apuesta colectiva, en cambio en España es el pene. Alguna gente en México al pene le dice "pitillo", y "pitillo" en España es un cigarrillo y en Venezuela un cilindro de plástico para tomar las bebidas. El mismo cilindro en Bolivia se conoce como "pajita", pero "pajita" en algunos países significa masturbacioncita, y masturbación en México puede decirse "chaqueta", que a la vez es una especie de abrigo en Colombia, país en el que a propósito una gorra con visera es una "cachucha", y "cachucha" en Argentina es una vagina, pero allá a la vagina también le dicen "concha", y "conchudo" en Colombia es alguien descarado o alguien fresco, ¡y un fresco en Cuba es un irrespetuoso! ¡YA ESTOY MAMADO!”

-“Pero ‘mamado’ ¿de qué?
¿Mamado de borracho?
¿Mamado de chupeteado?
¿Mamado de harto?

…This is exhausting…”

Yo ya me doy por vencido,
¡¡¡Para mi país me voy!!!
I traveled through various countries
I met the most beautiful women
I tried delicious food
I danced to very different rhythms

From Mexico I went to Patagonia
and I lived a few years in Spain
I endeavored to speak the language
but I never managed to speak it…

How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
because everything you say has another definition.-
How difficult it is to understand Spanish,
once you learn it, do not move from the region!

How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
because everything you say has another definition.-
How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
I already give up, and I go back to my country.

I studied Spanish in the high school
and we went for a semester-end tour to the Canary Islands.
During the trip I understood that I do not understand anything
and I decided to study Spanish philology in Salamanca.

After the course I went to Mexico City
as I felt I needed to enrich my vocabulary.
Soon I saw that my Spanish had great defects
and I decided to study another three years
in Guadalajara.

Four months in Bolivia
postgrad work in Costa Rica,
and some reading courses with a professor from Cuba.
So much study and so much effort, and finally you see:
THIS LANGUAGE CANNOT BE UNDERSTOOD
EITHER HEAD OR REVERSE!

How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
because everything you say has another definition.-
How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
I already give up, and I go back to my country.

In Venezuela I bought on my money a velvet (pana) shirt
and all my friends told to me: “This is my pana (buddy)!”
In Colombia porro is a song with a lively rhythm
but everyone looks at me in a shock when I say I love porro (ʻjoint’).

Chileans say about something far that “it is at the chucha (ʻcunt’)”,
while in Colombia chucha is the smell of armpit
which in Uruguay is called chivo,
defined by the dictionary as “a goat with long beard”.

And by changing a vowel, the word becomes chucho
which means ʻdoggy’ in Salvador and Guatemala
while it is ʻstingy’ in Honduras, and Chucho is a nickname for Jesús!
with so many meanings, how do you use this bastard word?

Chucho is ʻcold’ in Argentina
Chucho is the prison in Chile,
Chucho in Mexico somebody who
has the gift of being very astute

The doggy (chucho) of Jesús (Chucho) is a barking dog
and for being too astute (chucho), Jesús was put in prison (chucho),
where Jesús was cold (chucho), and got constipated (chucho)
“How cold (chucho)”, he told,
“and I also [miss] my doggy (chucho)”.

How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
because everything you say has another definition.
How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
I already give up, and I go back to my country.

I began to learn the names of food, but fríjol (bean)
is also poroto and habichuela at the same time
And although I was confused about what I had on the table,
one thing was sure, that ʻstrawberry’ is fresa.

And what a surprise when in Mexico I was called fresa (a fagot)
for having Armani clothes and asking for quality wine.

With the same clothes I was called cheto in Argentina
“So cheto is fresa”, I thought, and I asked on the market:

“Are chetos good here?”, but the seller got angry:
“Go to the f(xxx) which has born you into this world!”

And “Fresas, friend” (you’re effeminate), a Colombian told me when saw me falling dizzy on a chair.
“My brother, don’t be rude, and mark it on your hand:
In Buenos Aires fresa is called frutilla.

As I got tired of being considered an idiot for
telling what I have learned, and nobody understands a jota
and if you do not understand ni jota ask it in Bogotá.
I give it up, I pack, I go to Canada!

A pastel (cake) is a ponqué, and a ponqué is a torta,
and a torta is a punch a Spanish woman gave me on the face!

She looked so cute walking down the beach
I wanted to tell her a compliment to conquer her
I went closer and told the first thing that occurred to me
She turned, she cried at me, spat on me and slapped me!

Capullo (ʻdickhead’) I told her, as she was so nice
but if capullo is an insult, who explains me this damn little song?

(“cute capullo de alhelí, (wallflower bud), if you knew my pain,
you would return my love and you would calm down my suffe… suffe… suffe…)

Suffering, this is what I have
and the more I strive, the less I understand you
I do not know what to do
to be understood
and nobody will pay me back the fee of my language classes.

How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
because everything you say has another definition.
How difficult it is to speak Spanish,
I already give up, and I go back to my planet.

In Spain the meat looses a liquid which people call jugo (ʻjuice’)
while the jugo of fruits is called zumo.
I was also told that the sumo pontífice (the Pope) rules the religion,
while I have always thought that a sumo is a fat Japanese warrior in thongs.

I met an Andalusian woman called Concepción
who was called by her husband as “Concha of my heart”

“Let’s go to Argentina”, he told her once
“I’m sorry, but if you call me Concha, it’s better for me not to go there.”
“But Concha, what’s wrong with it, it is a beautiful country,
some even compare Buenos Aires to Paris.”
“They would make fun of my nickname (concha=ʻcunt’) in the filthiest way
and always there is some pervert who gets hot at hearing it”.

And with so many anglicisms everything gets even more complicated
and if you translate literally, it has no sense:

“I will call you back”,
will tell you any gringo
“Yo te llamo pa trá”
this you can only hear in Puelto Lico!

And ojos is ʻeyes’, but ʻice’ is hielo, while ʻyellow’ is the color of egg yolks!
Oso is ʻbear,’ but ver is ʻsee’,
and si is a musical note called in English ʻB’…

and ʻB’ is both abeja (bee) and ser (to be)
but ʻSir’ Michael I called my English teacher.

And the keeper of your block is a guachimán (from ʻwatchman’)
and the kids in your neighborhood go out to “hanguear” (from ʻhanging out’),
and the gazebo is a ʻromboy’
and you dress in ʻoverol.’

Why must it be so difficult to know how the hell to speak in Spanish?

Not that I did not want, I just lost patience:
the science of this language is alien to my conscience
I thought that by loading a dictionary in my backpack
and taking notes of all the words I learned during the day,

and reading, traveling, chatting, studying
and making friends in every corner
and testing all kinds of food and buying encyclopedias and anthologies,

I THOUGHT I WOULD LEARN
AND THAT WITH FAITH I COULD DO IT
BUT MY EFFORTS WERE IN VAIN!

I thought I would speak Spanish, but not any more (no no no no)…

How difficult it is to speak Spanish
because everything you say has another definition

“In Chile polla is a collective [bet], while in Spain it is the ʻpenis.’ Some people in Mexico call the penis pitillo which in Spain is a cigarette and in Venezuela a plastic cylinder to [drink]. The same cylinder is known in Bolivia as pajita, but pajita in some pays means ʻmasturbation’, which in Mexico is sometimes called chaqueta, which is a sort of a shelter in Colombia, where by the way a baseball cap is called cachucha which in Argentina means ʻvagina’, but there ʻvagina’ is also called concha, while conchudo in Colombia is someone cheeky or scoundrel (fresco), but fresco in Cuba is someone disrespectful! I’M ALREADY SUCKED”

“But sucked (mamado) of what?
ʻMamado’, that is, drunken?
ʻMamado’, that is, [licked]
ʻMamado’, that is, sick?

…This is exhausting…”

I give up!
I go back to my country!!!

Francisco Goya: Duel until being beaten to death. Prado, ca. 1820-23

2 comentarios:

languagehat dijo...

Excellent! The only minor suggestion I would make: for "a PhD course in Costa Rica" I'd say "postgrad work in Costa Rica," which is closer to the original (and after all, postgrad work need not involve a PhD).

Studiolum dijo...

The excellence is due to you and to Julia! And thank you for the correction. I know so many subtleties are lost in this translation from Spanish to English, none of them my native language, but I hope the result can give at least an impression of the authors’ intention…