To the Fates
An die Parzen
Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843)
An die Parzen
Nur Einen Sommer gönnt, ihr Gewaltigen!
Und einen Herbst zu reifem Gesange mir,
Daß williger mein Herz, vom süßen
Spiele gesättiget, dann mir sterbe.
Die Seele, der im Leben ihr göttlich Recht
Nicht ward, sie ruht auch drunten im Orkus nicht;
Doch ist mir einst das Heil’ge, das am
Herzen mir liegt, das Gedicht, gelungen,
Willkommen dann, o Stille der Schattenwelt!
Zufrieden bin ich, wenn auch mein Saitenspiel
Mich nicht hinab geleitet; Einmal
Lebt ich, wie Götter, und mehr bedarfs nicht.
To the Fates
Grant me a single summer, ye mighty ones,
Grant me an autumn’s ripeness of melody,
That less reluctant, being sated
With the sweet playing, my heart may perish.
Souls, if denied their sacred inheritance
In life, are unquiet too in the underworld;
I, though, achieved ere now the holy
Poetry, close to my heart, the poem.
Then be you welcome, stillness and shadow–world!
I’ll be content, no less, should my minstrelsy
Not guide me down: time was, when I have
Lived like the gods: nothing more is needed.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Friedrich Hölderlin...
Half of Life
Hälfte des Lebens
Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843)
Hälfte des Lebens
Mit gelben Birnen hänget
Und voll mit wilden Rosen
Das Land in den See,
Ihr holden Schwäne,
Und trunken von Küssen
Tunkt ihr das Haupt
Ins heilignüchterne Wasser.
Weh mir, wo nehm’ ich, wenn
Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo
Den Sonnenschein,
Und Schatten der Erde?
Die Mauern stehn
Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde
Klirren die Fahnen.
DIMIDIUM VITAE
flava pirus, rosa silvarum: defertur onusta
terra superficie lapsa lacustris aquae.
suaviolis olor ebrius it: fas dedere collum:
sobrius in sacrum dat caput ire lacum.
e nive qua capiam flores, vim solis, et umbram?
signa aquilone sonant; moenia muta rigent.
Half of Life
Golden pears, roses wild, slippety–slip,
land leaning lakeward;
swans’–faces, kissy–drunk, dippety–dip,
depth sober–sacred.
O how’ll I find, come winter, flowers,
sunbeams, earth–shadow?
Walls dumb and numb, banners and vanes
shake, clack and rattle.
A HALF OF LIVING
Gold Williams fruit and wild triantaphylls:
Land tilts towards Loch Lomond, almost spills:
You snazzy swans, half–cut with kissing bills,
In pious prosy liquid dunk your skulls!
O how’ll I find blossoms among snowfalls,
Warm rays of sun, shadows that land on soils?
Our flaps and flags clack; dumb and numb our walls.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Friedrich Hölderlin...
The World Is Too Much With Us – Lipogram
Not from Intimations of Immortality
Let’s see whether he needed the letter E…
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
Not from Intimations of Immortality
Let’s see whether he needed the letter E…
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; —
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
The World Is Too Much With Us – Lipogram
This world is too much with us: fairly soon
working and shopping drain our capital,
and show us almost nothing natural;
our soul is thrown away, a sordid boon.
That flood which flaunts its bosom, moon to moon,
that wind which howls and howls, continual:
all’s a sad bloom, shut down and dropsical
for our disastrous choirs that flatly croon,
lacking all passion. Think of this, good Lord:
brought up a pagan in a faith outworn,
what might I look at, on this dainty sward!
Such sights and sounds, I couldn’t stay forlorn:
a zoomorph, that zooms Apollo–ward,
a Triton, tooting on his wrack–fraught horn.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by William Wordsworth...
Half of Life
Hälfte des Lebens
Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843)
Hälfte des Lebens
Mit gelben Birnen hänget
Und voll mit wilden Rosen
Das Land in den See,
Ihr holden Schwäne,
Und trunken von Küssen
Tunkt ihr das Haupt
Ins heilignüchterne Wasser.
Weh mir, wo nehm’ ich, wenn
Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo
Den Sonnenschein,
Und Schatten der Erde?
Die Mauern stehn
Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde
Klirren die Fahnen.
Dimidium Vitae
flava pirus, rosa silvarum: defertur onusta
~~terra superficie lapsa lacustris aquae.
suaviolis olor ebrius it: fas dedere collum:
~~sobrius in sacrum dat caput ire lacum.
e nive qua capiam flores, vim solis, et umbram?
~~signa aquilone sonant; moenia muta rigent.
Half of Life
Golden pears, roses wild, slippety–slip,
land leaning lakeward;
swans’–faces, kissy–drunk, dippety–dip,
depth sober–sacred.
O how’ll I find, come winter, flowers,
sunbeams, earth–shadow?
Walls dumb and numb, banners and vanes
shake, clack and rattle.
A Half of Living
Gold Williams fruit and wild triantaphylls:
Land tilts towards Loch Lomond, almost spills:
You snazzy swans, half–cut with kissing bills,
In pious prosy liquid dunk your skulls!
O how’ll I find blossoms among snowfalls,
Warm rays of sun, shadows that land on soils?
Our flaps and flags clack; dumb and numb our walls.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Friedrich Hölderlin...