{"id":8215,"date":"2023-01-25T23:43:50","date_gmt":"2023-01-25T23:43:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/?p=8215"},"modified":"2023-01-26T00:32:04","modified_gmt":"2023-01-26T00:32:04","slug":"rilke-brecht-goethe-translations-from-german-poets-by-michael-r-burch","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/rilke-brecht-goethe-translations-from-german-poets-by-michael-r-burch\/","title":{"rendered":"Rilke, Brecht & Goethe, Translations from German poets by Michael R Burch"},"content":{"rendered":"
\r\nKomm, Du (\u201cCome, You\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Rainer Maria Rilke\r\nloose translation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\nThis was Rilke\u2019s last poem, written ten days before his death. He died open-eyed \r\nin the arms of his doctor on December 29, 1926, in the Valmont Sanatorium, \r\nof leukemia and its complications. I had a friend who died of leukemia and he was \r\nburning up with fever in the end. I believe that is what Rilke was describing here: \r\nhe was literally burning alive.\r\n\r\n \r\nCome, you\u2014the last one I acknowledge; return\u2014\r\nincurable pain searing this physical mesh.\r\nAs I burned in the spirit once, so now I burn\r\nwith you; meanwhile, you consume my flesh.\r\n\r\nThis wood that long resisted your embrace\r\nnow nourishes you; I surrender to your fury\r\nas my gentleness mutates to hellish rage\u2014\r\nuncaged, wild, primal, mindless, outr\u00e9.\r\n\r\nCompletely free, no longer future\u2019s pawn,\r\nI clambered up this crazy pyre of pain,\r\ncertain I\u2019d never return\u2014my heart\u2019s reserves gone\u2014\r\nto become death\u2019s nameless victim, purged by flame.\r\n\r\nNow all I ever was must be denied.\r\nI left my memories of my past elsewhere.\r\nThat life\u2014my former life\u2014remains outside.\r\nInside, I\u2019m lost. Nobody knows me here.\r\n\r\nKomm du<\/strong>\r\n\r\nKomm du, du letzter, den ich anerkenne,\r\nheilloser Schmerz im leiblichen Geweb:\r\nwie ich im Geiste brannte, sieh, ich brenne\r\nin dir; das Holz hat lange widerstrebt,\r\nder Flamme, die du loderst, zuzustimmen,\r\nnun aber n\u00e4hr\u2019 ich dich und brenn in dir.\r\nMein hiesig Mildsein wird in deinem Grimmen\r\nein Grimm der H\u00f6lle nicht von hier.\r\nGanz rein, ganz planlos frei von Zukunft stieg\r\nich auf des Leidens wirren Scheiterhaufen,\r\nso sicher nirgend K\u00fcnftiges zu kaufen\r\num dieses Herz, darin der Vorrat schwieg.\r\nBin ich es noch, der da unkenntlich brennt?\r\nErinnerungen rei\u00df ich nicht herein.\r\nO Leben, Leben: Drau\u00dfensein.\r\nUnd ich in Lohe. Niemand der mich kennt.\r\n\r\n\r\nLiebes-Lied (\u201cLove Song\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Rainer Maria Rilke\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\nHow can I withhold my soul so that it doesn\u2019t touch yours?\r\nHow can I lift mine gently to higher things, alone?\r\nOh, I would gladly find something lost in the dark\r\nin that inert space that fails to resonate until you vibrate.\r\nThere everything that moves us, draws us together like a bow\r\nenticing two taut strings to sing together with a simultaneous voice.\r\nWhose instrument are we becoming together?\r\nWhose, the hands that excite us?\r\nAh, sweet song!\r\n\r\nLiebes-Lied<\/strong>\r\n\r\nWie soll ich meine Seele halten, da\u00df\r\nsie nicht an deine r\u00fchrt? Wie soll ich sie\r\nhinheben \u00fcber dich zu andern Dingen?\r\nAch gerne m\u00f6cht ich sie bei irgendwas\r\nVerlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen\r\nan einer fremden stillen Stelle, die\r\nnicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.\r\nDoch alles, was uns anr\u00fchrt, dich und mich,\r\nnimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,\r\nder aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.\r\nAuf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?\r\nUnd welcher Geiger hat uns in der Hand?\r\nO s\u00fc\u00dfes Lied. <\/em>\r\n\r\n\r\nDas Lied des Bettlers (\u201cThe Beggar\u2019s Song\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Rainer Maria Rilke\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\n \r\nI live outside your gates,\r\nexposed to the rain, exposed to the sun;\r\nsometimes I\u2019ll cradle my right ear\r\nin my right palm;\r\nthen when I speak my voice sounds strange,\r\nalien ...\r\n\r\nI'm unsure whose voice I\u2019m hearing:\r\nmine or yours.\r\nI implore a trifle;\r\nthe poets cry for more.\r\n\r\nSometimes I cover both eyes\r\nand my face disappears;\r\nthere it lies heavy in my hands\r\nlooking peaceful, unafraid,\r\nso that no one would ever think\r\nI have no place to lay my head.\r\n\r\nDas Lied des Bettlers<\/strong>\r\n\r\n \r\nIch gehe immer von Tor zu Tor,\r\nverregnet und verbrannt;\r\nauf einmal leg ich mein rechtes Ohr\r\nin meine rechte Hand.\r\nDann kommt mir meine Stimme vor,\r\nals h\u00e4tt ich sie nie gekannt.\r\n\r\n \r\nDann wei\u00df ich nicht sicher, wer da schreit,\r\nich oder irgendwer.\r\nIch schreie um eine Kleinigkeit.\r\nDie Dichter schrein um mehr.\r\nUnd endlich mach ich noch mein Gesicht\r\nmit beiden Augen zu;\r\nwie's dann in der Hand liegt mit seinem Gewicht\r\nsieht es fast aus wie Ruh.\r\nDamit sie nicht meinen ich h\u00e4tte nicht,\r\nwohin ich mein Haupt tu. <\/pre>\n
\r\n\r\n\r\nBERTOLT BRECHT<\/strong>\r\n\r\nDie B\u00fccherverbrennung (\u201cThe Burning of the Books\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Bertolt Brecht\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\nWhen the Regime\r\ncommanded the unlawful books to be burned,\r\nteams of dull oxen hauled huge cartloads to the bonfires.\r\n\r\nThen a banished writer, one of the best,\r\nscanning the list of excommunicated texts,\r\nbecame enraged: he\u2019d been excluded!\r\n\r\nHe rushed to his desk, full of contemptuous wrath,\r\nto write fiery letters to the incompetents in power \u2014\r\nBurn me! he wrote with his blazing pen \u2014\r\nHaven\u2019t I always reported the truth?\r\nNow here you are, treating me like a liar!\r\nBurn me!\r\n\r\nDie B\u00fccherverbrennung<\/strong>\r\n\r\nAls das Regime befahl, B\u00fccher mit sch\u00e4dlichem Wissen\r\n\u00d6ffentlich zu verbrennen, und allenthalben\r\nOchsen gezwungen wurden, Karren mit B\u00fcchern\r\nZu den Scheiterhaufen zu ziehen, entdeckte\r\nEin verjagter Dichter, einer der besten, die Liste der\r\nVerbrannten studierend, entsetzt, da\u00df seine\r\nB\u00fccher vergessen waren. Er eilte zum Schreibtisch\r\nZornbefl\u00fcgelt, und schrieb einen Brief an die Machthaber.\r\nVerbrennt mich! schrieb er mit fliegender Feder, verbrennt mich!\r\nTut mir das nicht an! La\u00dft mich nicht \u00fcbrig! Habe ich nicht\r\nImmer die Wahrheit berichtet in meinen B\u00fcchern? Und jetzt\r\nWerd ich von euch wie ein L\u00fcgner behandelt! Ich befehle euch:\r\nVerbrennt mich!\r\n\r\n\r\nDer Abschied (\u201cThe Parting\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Bertolt Brecht\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\nWe embrace;\r\nmy fingers trace\r\nrich cloth\r\nwhile yours encounter only moth-\r\neaten fabric.\r\nA quick hug:\r\nyou were invited to the gay soiree\r\nwhile the minions of the \"law\"\r\nrelentlessly pursue me.\r\nWe talk about the weather\r\nand our eternal friendship's magic.\r\nAnything else would be too bitter,\r\ntoo tragic.\r\n\r\nDer Abschied<\/strong>\r\n\r\n Wir umarmen uns.\r\nIch fasse reichen Stoff\r\nDu fassest armen.\r\nDie Umarmung ist schnell\r\nDu gehst zu einem Mahl\r\nHinter mir sind die Schergen.\r\nWir sprechen vom Wetter und von unserer\r\nDauernden Freundschaft. Alles andere\r\nW\u00e4re zu bitter\r\n\r\n\r\nDie Maske des B\u00f6sen (\u201cThe Mask of Evil\u201d)<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Bertolt Brecht\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\nA Japanese woodcarving hangs on my wall\u2014\r\nthe mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.\r\nNot unsympathetically, I observe\r\nthe forehead\u2019s bulging veins,\r\nthe tremendous strain\r\nsuch malevolence requires.\r\n\r\n Die Maske des B\u00f6sen<\/strong>\r\n\r\n An meiner Wand h\u00e4ngt ein japanisches Holzwerk \r\nMaske eines b\u00f6sen D\u00e4mons, bemalt mit Goldlack.\r\nMitf\u00fchlend sehe ich \/ \r\nDie geschwollenen Stirnadern, andeutend \r\nWie anstrengend es ist, b\u00f6se zu sein. <\/pre>\n
\r\n  \r\nON LOOKING AT SCHILLER\u2019S SKULL<\/strong>\r\n\r\nby Johann Wolfgang von Goethe\r\nloose translation\/interpretation by Michael R. Burch\r\n\r\n \r\nHere in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,\r\nlike yesteryear\u2019s\r\nfading souvenirs,\r\nI see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.\r\n\r\nWho knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,\r\npacked tightly here\r\ndespite once repellent hate?\r\nHere weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.\r\n\r\nThese arms and hands, they once were so delicate!\r\nHow articulately\r\nthey moved! Ah me!\r\nWhat athletes once paced about on these padded feet?\r\n\r\nStill there\u2019s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!\r\nDeprived of graves,\r\nforced here like slaves\r\nto occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!\r\n\r\nNow who\u2019s to know who loved one orb here detained?\r\nExcept for me;\r\nreader, hear my plea:\r\nI know the grandeur of the mind it contained!\r\n\r\nYes, and I know the impulse true love would stir\r\nhere, where I stand\r\nin this alien land\r\nsurrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!\r\n\r\nEven in this cold,\r\nin this dust and mould\r\nI am startled by a strange, ancient reverie, ...\r\nas if this shrine to death could quicken me!\r\n\r\nOne shape out of the past keeps calling me\r\nwith its mystery!\r\nStill retaining its former angelic grace!\r\nAnd at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...\r\n\r\nSwept by that current to where immortals race.\r\nO secret vessel, you\r\ngave Life its truth.\r\nIt falls on me now to recall your expressive face.\r\n\r\nI turn away, abashed here by what I see:\r\nthis mould was worth\r\nmore than all the earth.\r\nLet me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!\r\n\r\nWhat is there better in this dark Life than he\r\nwho gives us a sense of man\u2019s divinity,\r\nof his place in the universe?\r\nA man who\u2019s both flesh and spirit\u2014living verse! <\/pre>\n
\"\"<\/a>
\n
\nMichael R. Burch<\/strong> is an American poet who lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife Beth and two incredibly spoiled puppies. He has over 6,000 publications, including poems that have gone viral. His poems, translations, essays, articles, letters, epigrams, jokes and puns have been published by TIME, USA Today, BBC Radio 3, Writer\u2019s Digest\u2013The Year\u2019s Best Writing<\/em> and hundreds of literary journals. His poetry has been translated into 14 languages, taught in high schools and colleges, and set to music by 23 composers, including two potential operas if the money ever materializes. He also edits www.thehypertexts.com<\/a>, has served as editor of international poetry and translations for Better Than Starbucks<\/em>, is on the board of Borderless Journal<\/em>, an international literary journal, and has judged a number of poetry contests over the years.
\n 
\n <\/p>\n
Share and Enjoy !<\/h3>
<\/i><\/span>Shares<\/small><\/div>
<\/i><\/span><\/a><\/span>\n<\/i><\/a><\/span>\n<\/i><\/a><\/span>\n<\/i><\/a><\/span>\n<\/i><\/a><\/span><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/i><\/a><\/span>\n<\/i><\/a><\/span><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Komm, Du (\u201cCome, You\u201d) by Rainer Maria Rilke loose translation by Michael R. Burch This was Rilke\u2019s last poem, written ten days before his death. He died open-eyed in the arms of his doctor on December 29, 1926, in the Valmont Sanatorium, of leukemia and its complications. I had a friend who died of leukemia … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[884,995,587,796,366,401,43,388],"tags":[885,96,18,136,3,127],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8215"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8215"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8215\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8220,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8215\/revisions\/8220"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8215"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8215"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8215"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}