Back to Hoffmannsthal thread on KrautBlog
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Vorfrühling (1892) Es läuft der Frühlingswind Durch kahle Alleen, Seltsame Dinge sind In seinem Wehn. Er hat sich gewiegt, Wo Weinen war, Und hat sich geschmiegt In zerrüttetes Haar. Er schüttelte nieder Akazienblüten Und kühlte die Glieder, Die atmend glühten. Lippen im Lachen Hat er berührt, Die weichen und wachen Fluren durchspürt. Er glitt durch die Flöte Als schluchzender Schrei, An dämmernder Röte Flog er vorbei. Er flog mit Schweigen Durch flüsternde Zimmer Und löschte im Neigen Der Ampel Schimmer. Es läuft der Frühlingswind Durch kahle Alleen, Seltsame Dinge sind In seinem Wehn. Durch die glatten Kahlen Alleen Treibt sein Wehn Blasse Schatten. Und den Duft, Den er gebracht, Von wo er gekommen Seit gestern Nacht. |
Early Spring The spring wind runs Through leafless alleys, Strange things are In its blowing. It rocked itself, Where there were tears, And nestled into Ruined hair. It shook down Acacia blossoms And cooled limbs That breathed and burned. It has touched Lips in laughter, Burrowed through soft And stirring fields. It slid through the flute, A sobbing cry, Flew past Darkening dusk. It flew in silence Through whispering rooms And, bending, extinguished The glow of the lamp. The spring wind runs Through leafless alleys, Strange things are In its blowing. Through smooth Leafless alleys Its blowing chases Pale shadows. And the fragrance It has brought From where it has come Since last night! |
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Reiselied (1898) Wasser stürzt, uns zu verschlingen, Rollt der Fels, uns zu erschlagen, Kommen schon auf starken Schwingen Vögel her, uns fortzutragen. Aber unten liegt ein Land, Früchte spiegelnd ohne Ende In den alterslosen Seen. Marmorstirn und Brunnenrand Steigt aus blumigem Gelände, Und die leichten Winde wehn. |
Travel Song Water falls to devour us, The rock rolls to crush us, When on strong wings birds arrive To carry us away. But below there lies a land, Reflecting without end Fruits in ageless lakes. Marble head and fountain rim Rise from fields of flowers, And the light winds are blowing. |
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A note:
My prose translations are not always strictly literal.
I'm willing to deviate from the original a little when this gives me a more "poetic" line,
especially when it reproduces the meter of the original.
The first line of the third stanza above is a case in point.
A literal translation would be "marble forehead and fountain rim"—leaving the "fore" out
produces, I believe, not only an easier-flowing line, but one that scans exactly like the original.
But I hesitate to go very far in this direction. For example, the following lines would scan like the first two lines of Reiselied: |
They reproduce the forward-pulling rush of the original lines,
but deviate more from the meaning of the lines because padding is needed to achieve the length of the German lines.
I would accept this, actually prefer it, when I could do it consistently for the entire piece. Indeed, the contrast between the rush of the first stanza and the calm of the second is an essential characteristic of the poem. However, I have not managed to come up with a reasonably close translation that would reproduce the rhythm of the original throughout—readers have to get a sense of it by looking at the original German, preferably by reading it aloud. |
Last change made to this page: Nov. 4, 2015