Arminius could You translate this into English if You see it?
I came across it in reference to mythological works, and is be interested in finding out what it means.
Thanks,
Arminius could You translate this into English if You see it?
I came across it in reference to mythological works, and is be interested in finding out what it means.
Thanks,
The following text is the original (German) text:
I will do the translation soon.
By the way:
Spanish translation:
English translation:
That’s a good poem too. Isn’t it?
Thank You.
Yes, the Rilke poem is beautiful, as well.
The following text is the translation of Johann Heinrich Voß’ poem „Der Herbsttag“:
"The autumn day
The trees stand unloaded to the fruit,
And yellow foliage drifts away in the valley;
The stubblefield in light thread
Gleams in the lower midday beam.
The bird’s swarm wheels, and moves;
The cattle demands for the stable, and flee
The meagre meadows, paled from the rime.
Oh go on the gentle scabbard day
Of the year finally out;
And call it summer day and carry
The last hardly found bunch.
Soon clouds rise, and blackly behind it
The storm, and his enjoying, the winter,
And wraps in flakes field and house.
A wise man, dear ones, snatches
the joys in over-fleeing,
Receives what comes unsurprised,
And picks the flowers, because they bloom.
And if the flowers have also disappeared;
So stands at the winter stove entwined
Its festival cup with evergreen.
Still drily leads through valley and hill
The long been familar summer path.
Only reddishly hangs on the water level
The tree that green you recently saw.
Yet greens the field of the winter grain;
Yet greens with red of the hawthorns
And spill berries, our bed for the night!
So quietly recumbent in the warm sun,
We see the coloured field upward,
And there, on black fallow ploughing,
With lust whistling, the field man:
The crows in fresh furrow swarm
After the plough, and scream and make a noise;
And steamingly the horse team drags.
Nature, how nicely in every dress!
Still in the dying dress as nicely!
It mixes gentle joy in melancholy,
And smiles watering still in the walking.
You, wilted foliage, that shivers down,
You little flower, lisps: not mourned!
We will more beautifully rise!“
(Translated by me.)
Thank You for the translation and tonight I will try to compare the Voss with the Rilke for tje interest in synonymous structural and generally aesthetic contrast.
Do You think there is a flow of influence from the Vass to the Rilke?
He may have read him although he isn’t at all as well known and I came across it quite by chance.
Thank You for the translation and tonight I will try to compare the Voss with the Rilke for tje interest in synonymous structural and generally aesthetic contrast.
Do You think there is a flow of influence from the Vass to the Rilke?
He may have read him although he isn’t at all as well known and I came across it quite by chance.
I am pretty sure that Rilke knew Voß’ poem. But I am not sure whether there was a flow of influence from Voß to Rilke
Rilke’s poem „Archaischer Torso Apollos“:
Archaischer Torso Apollos
Wir kannten nicht sein unerhörtes Haupt,
darin die Augenäpfel reiften. Aber
sein Torso glüht noch wie ein Kandelaber,
in dem sein Schauen, nur zurückgeschraubt,sich hält und glänzt. Sonst könnte nicht der Bug
der Brust dich blenden, und im leisen Drehen
der Lenden könnte nicht ein Lächeln gehen
zu jener Mitte, die die Zeugung trug.Sonst stünde dieser Stein entstellt und kurz
unter der Schultern durchsichtigem Sturz
und flimmerte nicht so wie Raubtierfelle;und bräche nicht aus allen seinen Rändern
aus wie ein Stern: denn da ist keine Stelle,
die dich nicht sieht. Du mußt dein Leben ändern.
English translation:
Archaic Torso of Apollo
We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.
The hero is he who is immovably centered-Emerson
When I was a boy
A god often rescued me
From the shouts of the rods of men
And played among the trees and flowers
Secure in their kindness and the breezes of heaven
Were playing there too.
And as you delight
The hearts of plants
When they stretch towards you with little strength
So you delight the heart in me
Father Helios and like Endymion
I was your favorite
Moon O all
Your friendly
And faithful gods
I wish you could know
How my soul have loved you.
then
it was not yet with names and you
Never named as people do
As they knew one another
I knew you better
Then I have ever known them.
I understood the stillness above the
sky
If never knew the words of men.
Trees were my teachers
Melodious trees
And I learned to love
Among flowers
I grew up in the arms of the gods.
Holderlin
That which ought to live eternally in song must in life perish–Schiller
1 John 3:14
If this last derivation. to humanities" .reluctant return to the underworld ,regressively human quest, remaining only as merely another journey into the abyss, a journey more formidable then any outward expansion to newer and newer open land , then its not that they will be stymied in their efforts, but that within the scope and context of their struggle , they will be met by limitations in recognizing a continuum of laws and identities as available sources of useful energy.
A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than for other people.
Thomas Mann
A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than for other people
To Arc a fellow traveler
Promised an ode about a tree
That I haunted
For many
And it haunted me so o am haunting it
Now and planting the seed of my soul there so that some day
Some far far
Day I or someone haunted like wise
May feel am am anchored
Roots deeply burrowed
Into blackest of earth
Made fertile for immortality
Which is within the now that the tree sings airs
Of eternal song5 (5 stanzas to follow)
And it is for me that she does
And for You
Where is Arminius, until hear of his disposition, can not let his ideas die.
From the shouts and the rods of men
And I played among trees and flowers
Secure in their kindness
And the breezes of heaven
Were playing there too.
And as you delight
The hearts of plants
When they stretch towards you
With little strength
So you delighted the heart in me
Father Helios, and like Endymion
I was your favourite,
Moon. 0 all
You friendly
And faithful gods
I wish you could know
How my soul has loved you.
Even though when I called to you then
It was not yet with names, and you
Never named me as people do
As though they knew one another
I knew you better
Than I have ever known them.
I understood the stillness above the sky
But never the words of men
Holderlin