Maybe these translations are a little too "from the proper German," but I think they fit nicely with our work, particularly "Initiation" and "Lament."
(all translated by C.F. MacIntyre, 1940)
Initiation
Whoever you are, go out into the evening,
leaving your room, of which you know each bit;
your house is the last before the infinite,
whoever you are.
Then with your eyes that wearily
scarce lift themselves from the worn-out door-stone
slowly you raise a shadowy black tree
and fix it on the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made the world (and it shall grow
and ripen as a word, unspoken, still).
When you have grasped its meaning with your will,
then tenderly your eyes will let it go...
The Solitary
As one who has sailed across an unknown sea,
among this rooted folk I am alone;
the full days on their tables are their own,
to me the distant is reality.
A new world reaches to my very eyes,
a place perhaps unpeopled as the moon;
their slightest feelings they must analyze,
and all their words have got the common tune.
The things I brought with me from far away,
compared with theirs, look strangely not the same:
in their great country they were living things,
but here they hold their breath, as if for shame.
Lament
Oh, everything is far
and long ago.
I believe that star
these thousand years is dead,
though I still see its light.
I believe, in that boat
passing through the night
something fearful was said.
In the house a clock
struck...
Where did it strike?...
I would like to walk
out of my heart
under the wide sky.
I would like to pray.
One of all these stars
must still exist.
I believe I know
which one
still lasts
and stands like a city, white
in the sky at the end of the beam of light...
Evening
Slowly now the evening changes his garments
held for him by a rim of ancient trees;
you gaze: and the landscape divides and leaves you,
one sinking and one rising toward the sky.
And you are left, to none belonging wholly,
not so dark as a silent house, nor quite
so surely pledged unto eternity
as that which grows to star and climbs the night.
To you is left (unspeakably confused)
your life, gigantic, ripening, full of fears,
so that it, now hemmed in, now grasping all,
is changed in you by turns to stone and stars.
Here are Snow's translations (From The Poetry of Rilke, 2009):
ReplyDeleteEntrance (called Initiation in the poem Erin posted)
Whoever you are: in the evening step
out of your room, where you know everything;
yours is the last house before the distant:
whoever you are.
With your eyes, which wearily
just free themselves of the worn-out threshold,
very slowly you raise one black tree
and set it against the sky: slender, alone.
And you've made the world. And it's immense
and like a world ripening in silence.
And as your will reaches for its meaning,
tenderly your eyes let it go...
The Solitary
I'm like one who's traveled foreign oceans
among these so eternally at home;
the full days stand rote at their tables:
for me the distant roils with dream.
Deep inside my face a world reaches,
maybe uninhabited like a moon;
but they leave no feeling unexplored,
and all their words are taken.
The things I brought with me from far away
appear outlandish next to theirs -:
in their great homeland they were wild animals;
here they hold their breath for shame.
Lament
O how far away and long gone
everything is.
I believe the star
whose brightness I take in
has been dead a thousand years.
I believe that in a boat
gliding by I heard
something fearful being said.
In a house a clock
just struck...
What house?...
I'd like to step out of my heart
and be under the great sky.
I'd like to pray.
And surely one of all those stars
must still exist.
I believe I'd know
which one alone
has lasted, -
which one like a white city
stands at its light's end in the sky...
Evening
Slowly the evening puts on the clothes
held for it by a ridge of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands divide from you,
one going heavenward, one sinking down;
and leave you, not quite belonging to either,
not quite so dark as the house cloaked in silence,
not quite so surely pledging the eternal
as that which becomes star each night and climbs -
and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle)
your life, immense and ripening and fearful,
so that now closed in, now reaching everywhere,
it grows alternately stone in you and star.
Hey wow yours are much better. I love "Lament" with your translation.
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