'Dreaming of tortillas': Expressions we can't translate (and why they matter)

In the wake of Toni Cruz's death, many radio stations revived Trinca's hits. We remember "Cosas del idioma," a song that points to a real phenomenon: every language has its images, its turns of phrase, and when we lose them, the language becomes unbalanced.

A potato omelette
19/07/2025
3 min

PalmYes, without context or knowledge of Catalan, a Spanish speaker feels that something is "huff and puff", you'll think the person speaking to you is talking nonsense. In Catalan, the phrase indicates that something is so easy that it can be done without effort, but the image – which has a certain grace and irony – doesn't translate to Spanish. The same thing happens with 'somiatruites'': try to make a version like 'dreams of tortillas' has neither feet nor feet.

This is, in part, what the song wanted to show Things about the language, in which a man from Santa Coloma must travel to Madrid and tries to recover his somewhat rusty Spanish. When he wants to say that the car is 'making him a fig', he doesn't know how to express it and comes up with a magnificently absurd "the car makes him a fig". When he pushes that he has made "a fart like an acorn", he translates it as a ""I fart like an acorn" and he remains so calm (gentlemen, that's rai!). And the thing continues: "bring fire out of the molars"" becomes ""to draw fire through the molars", and "spread the fog", in "spread the fog"The funny thing is that there's no need to add anything else: the literal meaning is already comically absurd.

Literal translations

However, this is not a problem exclusive to Catalan and Spanish. All languages have their own ways of saying certain things, and literal translations often jar. In English, "it's raining cats and dogs" It doesn't mean that it's raining cats and dogs, but rather that it's a rain shower that makes for the season (that is, it's pouring rain). The Germans say it's "Kingdom of Bindfäden" (literally, it rains string thread), and in Czech, "padají trakare" (wheelbarrows fall) or else "lije as z konve" (spill like from a watering can). Everyone wants to say that it rains a lot, but each language arrives in its own way, with its own image.

Blow and make bottles.

These metaphors aren't arbitrary. They're loaded with culture, imagery, and context. When in Catalan we say that someone "gets down to work," we're not just saying they're starting a job: we're evoking a concrete, manual action, done with intention. If someone "calls the shots," they're not just giving orders: they're distributing, deciding, imposing a hierarchy.

That's why expressions like "to be left with a palm of a nose," "to go like a rocket," or "to make oneself look good" don't have direct and reliable translations. We can find functional equivalents: to be left with a palm of a nose can recall the "to be left holding the bag" (literally, to be left holding the bag) in English. "Ir de bólite" would be a "be at full capacity" in Spanish or a "to be swamped" (to be flooded) in English. But the image is not the same. The 'bolito', a fast-paced and chaotic children's game, has no direct equivalent and dissolves.

Certainly, there are also parallels: "squeeze fire out of the teeth" has a certain echo in English.to see red" (see red). However, many Catalan expressions (as well as those from Spanish, English, or any other language) are difficult to translate without losing tone, energy, or irony. However, it's not about becoming collectors of expressions. There's no need to go around the world saying ""playing the two" just to make patchoca. What matters is understanding that these forms are part of an ecosystem: they are ways of saying things that help us to be more precise or to connect better with our listeners.

Joaquim Mallafrè, translator of the 'Ulysses from Joyce to Catalan, distinguished between the 'tribal language and the 'language of the polis. The first is colloquial, living, and intimate. The second is public, normative, and institutional. Many translations, out of prudence or inertia, fall back on the language of the polis. However, in doing so, they often miss the most lively, most expressive part of the language. Translate "It's a piece of cake how is ""sewing and singing" is accurate. Simply saying "it's easy" may be correct, but it sounds flat.

Convey your attitude

Sometimes, the problem isn't just not being able to translate an expression, but not knowing how to convey its attitude. For example, "hacer el orni" isn't just pretending you don't know: it implies an intention, a mischief. As Mallafre said, every language moves between the language of the polis and that of the tribe. Yes, when we translate (or when we write), we only use the language of the polis, we lose much more than a phrase: we lose links, colors, complicity.

That's why good translations aren't those that say "the same thing," but those that know how to capture the gesture, the humor, the character of what is being said. If in a novel someone says "You must be kidding" And the translator writes "Don't make me laugh, man!" He's understood what's at stake. If he writes "I'm sure you're joking," he's given a literal, but insipid, translation. You can live perfectly well with a cop's language, but it's a grayer, flatter, and, above all, less our own life.

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