Showing posts with label German poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label German poetry. Show all posts

15.12.20

Sarah Kirsch – Queen Hortensia


At the castle gate there is a green hortensia. Green leaves, green flowers. When the leaves droop, I take a plastic jug and run for water. Queen Hortensia.

– Sarah Kirsch

Translation by Johannes Beilharz. Source: Sarah Kirsch, La Pagerie, dtv, 1984.

Translator's note
By calling the flower Queen Hortensia, the author appears to obliquely allude to Hortense de Beauharnais (1783-1837), queen consort of Holland and stepdaughter of Napoleon I.

12.6.20

Ernst Stadler – In the early morning



In the early morning

The silhouette of your body is dark in the morning in front of the dim light
Of the curtained blinds. Lying in bed, I feel your face turned towards me host-like.
When you unwound yourself from my arms, your whispered “I must go” only reached the farthest gates of my dream –
Now I see, as if through a veil, your hand, as it lightly brushes the white shirt down your breasts ...
The stockings ... now the skirt ... Your hair gathered ... you’ve become a stranger, adorned for the day and the world ...
I open the door quietly ... kiss you ... you nod, distant already, a farewell ... and you are gone.
I hear, already in bed again, your gentle steps fade away in the staircase,
I am again captive of your body’s scent, which flows out of the pillows warmly and into my senses.
The morning is getting brighter. The curtain billows. Young wind and first sun want to enter.
Noise rises ... Early morning music ... sung gently into morning dreams, I fall asleep.

– Ernst Stadler (1883-1914)

From: Der Aufbruch, 1914, published shortly before the author died in World War I. Translated by Johannes Beilharz. The German original can be found here.

5.6.20

René Schickele – The boy in the garden


The boy in the garden

I want to put my bare hands together
and make them sink hard
as evening falls, as if they were lovers.
May bells ring at dusk,
and white veils of scent descend upon us,
as we are close together, listening to our flowers.
Tulips shine through the last glow of the day,
lilac blossoms spring from the bushes,
a bright rose melts on the ground...
We're all fond of each other.
Outside, through the blue night, we hear the muted striking of the hours.

– René Schickele (1883-1940)

English translation by Johannes Beilharz (© 2020).

German original | Other poems by René Schickele in English

29.5.20

Stefan George – I am the One


I am the One and am the Twain
I am the womb I am the sire
I am the blow and am the slain
I am the wood I am the fire
I am the seer I am the sight
I am the sheath and am the haft
I am the shadow and the right
I am the bow I am the shaft
I am the rich I am the needer
I am the semblance and the heart
I am the altar and the pleader
I am a finish and a start.

Stefan George

Translated from the German by Carol North Valhope and Ernst Morwitz. From: Stefan George, Poems, Schocken Books, 1967 (originally published by Pantheon Books in 1943)

See the original in the preceding post.