LEBENSPFLICHTEN
Rosen auf den Weg gestreut,
und des Harms vergessen!
Eine kleine Spanne Zeit
ward uns zugemessen.
Heute hüpft im Frühlingstanz
noch der frohe Knabe;
morgen weht der.Totenkranz
schon auf seinem Grabe.
Wonne führt die junge Braut
heute zum Altare;
eh die Abendwolke taut
ruht sie auf der Bahre.
Ungewisser, kurzer Dau’r
ist dies Erdenleben
und zur Freude, nicht zur Trau’r
uns von Gott gegeben.
Gebet Harm und Grillenfang,
gebet ihn den Winden;
ruht bei frohem Becherklang
unter grünen Linden!
Lasset keine Nachtigall
unbehorcht verstummen,
keine Bien’ im Frühlingstal
unbelauschet summen.
Fühlt, solang, es Gott erlaubt,
Kuss und siisse Trauben,
bis der Tod, der alles raubt,
komint, sie euch zu rauben.
DUTIES OF LIFE
Let’s strew roses upon our path,
let’s forget our sorrow!
Just a little span of time
has been measured out to us.
Today the happy boy still leaps
in the dance of springtime;
tomorrow the wreath of death
already flutters on his grave.
Today joy leads on the youthful bride
stepping to the altar;
before the evening’s cloud dissolves
she rests on her bier.
Of uncertain, short duration
is this life on earth
and for enjoyment, not for sadness
given us by God.
Give your sorrow and caprice,
give it to the winds;
rest while happy cups resound
under the green lindens!
Let no single nightingale
end her song unheard,
nor a bee in springtime’s vale
hum without your listening.
Taste, as long as God will grant
kisses and sweet grapes,
until death, which steals everything,
comes to steal them from you.
Unser schlummerndes Gebein,
in die Gruft gesäet,
fühlet nicht den Rosenhain,
der das Grab umwehet;
Fühlet nicht den Wonneklang
angestossner Becher,
nicht den frohen Rundgesang
weingelehrter Zecher.2
Our slumbering bones,
sown into the tomb,
do not feel the grove of roses
which flutters round our grave;
Do not feel the sound of joy
of cups clinking together,
nor the happy roundelay
of carousers. made wise by wine.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(1749-1832)
Goethe was Germany’s greatest lyric poet, a unique genius, who excelled in every lyric genre he attempted. His collection of poetry runs the gamut from the Anacreontic poems of wine, women, and song to the ballad, from pure nature lyrics to biting satiric epigrams, from philosophic-rationalistic poems to irrational outbursts of pure emotion, from the simple form of the folk song to sonnets, from poems in seemingly artless doggerel to those imitating elaborate Greek, Spanish, and Oriental verse forms. And this enumeration is by no means a complete catalogue of his poetic creations. The poems printed below, written at three different stages of his development as a lyric poet, give but a bare hint of his versatility. The first one, Gesang der Geister über den Wassern, was written during his early period of Storm-and-Stress, when his poems swept away the older tradition of rationalistic and conventional poetry by their spontaneity, emotional power, intense empathy with nature, and instinctive feeling for the right form. This poem reflects one further dimension of his early poetry: his ability to express his views of life by symbols taken from nature. Goethe wrote this poem after observing an Alpine brook cascading downward; the flow of the brook becomes the symbol of human life which to Goethe is but a part of a pantheistic universe. In describing the wind, the symbol for human fate, as “the beautiful wooer,” he displays a joyful acceptance of the fact that Man, like the brook, must rise and fall between heaven and earth, must meet opposition — but may also serve as a mirror to the stars.
The second poem was written during Goethe’s classical period, after he had returned from Italy. Here, as in many poems written during this stage of his development, Goethe imposes a more stringent, “classical” form on his poems; the content becomes more Greek and Roman in theme, and his outlook on life more pagan. Goethe wrote the Roman Elegies, of which the fifth is reprinted, in distichs, a two-line verse form in which a line of hexameter is followed by a line of pentameter. The meter, the references to Roman gods and to Roman love poets — who were not yet troubled by the Christian dichotomy of flesh versus soul — all testify to Goethe’s profound immersion in the world of antiquity.
In his late poems, Goethe worked with innumerable forms of world literature, reverting occasionally to the style of his earliest poetry, in which he attempted to capture the simple language and unsophisticated structure of folk poetry. Gefunden has all these characteristics; its uncomplicated symbolism is likewise reminiscent of the Volkslied. To understand fully this delightful short poem, one need only know that here Goethe retells, symbolically, his relationship to his wife Christiane.
GESANG DER GEISTER ÜBER DEN WASSERN
Des Menschen Seele
Gleicht dem Wasser:
Vom Himmel kommt es,
Zum Himmel steigt es,
Und wieder nieder
Zur Erde muss es,
Ewig wechselnd.
Strömt von der hohen,
Steilen Felswand
Der reine Strahl,
Dann stäubt er lieblich
In Wolkenwellen
Zum glatten Fels,
Und leicht empfangen
Wallt er verschleiernd,
Leisrauschend
Zur Tiefe nieder.
Ragen Klippen
Dem Sturz entgegen,
Schäumt er unmutig
Stufenweise
Zum Abgrund.
Im flachen Bette
Schleicht er das Wiesental hin,
Und in dem glatten See
Weiden ihr Antlitz
Alle Gestirne.
SONG OF THE SPIRITS OVER THE WATERS
Man’s soul
Equals the water:
From Heaven it comes,
To Heaven it rises,
And downward again
It must descend to the earth,
Forever changing.
When there streams from the high,
Steep wall of the rock
The pure jet of water,
Then it foams in lovely sprays
In waves of clouds
To the smooth rock,
And gracefully received,
It floats, enveiling,
Murmuring softly
Down to the deep.
Where cliffs arise
In the face of the downpour,
It foams, out of temper,
Step upon step,
Down to the abyss.
In the shallow bed
It creeps down the meadowy valley
And in the smooth lake
Their countenance feast
All heavenly bodies.
Wind ist der Welle
Lieblicher Buhler;
Wind mischt vom Grund aus
Schäumende Wogen.
Seele des Menschen,
Wie gleichst du dem Wasser!
Schicksal des Menschen,
Wie gleichst du dem Wind!
The wind is the wave’s
Beautiful wooer;
The wind stirs up from the bottom
Foaming waves.
Soul of Man,
How you resemble the water!
Fate of Man,
How you resemble the wind!
From RÖMISCHE ELEGIEN
Froh empfind ich mich nun auf klassischem Boden begeistert,
Vor- und Mitwelt spricht lauter und reizender mir.
Hier befolg’ ich den Rat, durchblättre die Werke der Alten
Mit geschäftiger Hand, täglich mit neuem Genuss.
Aber die Nächte hindurch halt Amor mich anders beschäftigt;
Werd’ ich auch halb nur gelehrt, bin ich doch doppelt beglückt.
Und belehr’ ich mich nicht, indem ich des lieblichen Busens
Formen spähe, die Hand leite die Hüften hinab?
Dann versteh ich den Marmor erst recht: ich denk und vergleiche,
Sehe mit fühlendem Aug, fühle mit sehender Hand.
Raubt die Liebste denn gleich mir einige. Stunden des Tages,
Gibt sie Stunden der Nacht mir zur Entschädigung hin.
Wird doch nicht immer geküsst, es wird vernünftig gesprochen;
Überfällt sie der Schlaf, lieg’ ich und denke mïr viel.
Oftmals hab’ ich auch schon in ihren Armen gedichtet
Und des Hexameters Mass leise mit fingernder Hand
lhr auf den Rücken gezählt. Sie atmet in lieblichem Schlummer,
Und es durchglühet ihr Hauch mir bis ins Tiefste die Brust.
Amor schüret die Lamp’ indes und denket der Zeiten,
Da er den nämlichen Dienst seinen Triumvirn getan.
From ROMAN ELEGIES
Joyously I find myself enraptured on classical soil;
Times past and present speak louder and more delightfully to me.
Here I follow the counsel, leaf through the works of the ancients
With industrious hand, daily with pleasure renewed.
But throughout the night Amor otherwise keeps me busy;
Even though only half enlightened, I am doubly made happy.
And am I not learning, when the beauteous bosom’s
Form I seek out, my hand descends on her hips?
Then I comprehend, truly, the marble; I think and compare,
See with feeling eye, feel with seeing hand.
Though the beloved robs me of some hours of daytime,
She gives me hours of night in compensation.
After all, we do not kiss all the time, there is also sensible discourse;
When sleep overcomes her, I lie and think much.
Ofttimes in her arms I even wrote poems
And, with fingering hand, the hexameter’s measure
I counted out on her back. She breathes in loveliest slumber,
And her breath glows into the deepest parts of my breast.
Amor, meanwhile, stirs up the lamp-light and remembers the era
When for his triumvirs he did the like service.
GEFUNDEN
Ich ging im Walde
So fur mich hin,
Und nichts zu suchen,
Das war mein Sinn.
Im Schatten sah ich
Ein Blümchen stehn,
Wie Sterne leuchtend,
Wie Äuglein schön.
Ich wollt’ es brechen,
Da sagt’ es fein:
Soll ich zum Welken
Gebrochen sein?
Ich grub’s mit allen
Den Würzlein aus,
Zum Garten trug ich’s
Am hübschen Haus.
Und pflanzt’ es wieder
Am stillen Ort;
Nun zweigt es immer
Und blüht so fort.
FOUND
I walked in the forest
So all by myself,
And to search for nothing
That was my intent.
In the shadow I saw
A small flower standing,
Shining like stars,
Beautiful as tender eyes.
I wanted to pluck it,
When it delicately said:
Shall I to wither
Be broken off?
I dug it up with all
Its small roots,
To the garden I brought it
By the pretty house.
And once more did plant it
At a quiet nook;
Now it branches forever
And continues to bloom.
Jakob Michael Reinhold Lenz
(1751-1792)
The life of the poet Lenz is in many ways characteristic of the young generation of poets of the Storm-and-Stress era. Like most members of this group Lenz revolted against rationalistic sobriety, traditional literary forms, and wrote frankly emotional works which despite frequent formlessness are intensely powerful. After five years of burning literary activity his creative genius-like talent gradually ebbed away during repeated onsets of mental disturbances.
Lenz both profited and suffered from his contacts with Goethe. In his adulation of Goethe, Lenz emulated his life and works to such an extent that the Duke of Weimar nicknamed him Goethes Affe (Goethe’s ape or mimic). Yet by imitating Goethe, Lenz occasionally produced poems which came so close to Goethe’s style and lyric gift, that for a long time they were incorrectly attributed to the master. In the case of the poem below there was an added reason for this belief. Lenz presented this poem to Friederike Brion, an Alsatian parson’s daughter with whom he had fallen in love — the identical girl who had inspired some of Goethe’s most fervent love lyrics in the previous year. Wo bist du itzt, in which Lenz deplores his temporary separation from Friederike, displays the simplicity, spontaneity, and personal note of Goethe’s early poetry; it also contains a device characteristic of Lenz’ style: the repetition of words and phrases (the wo of the first stanza, the komm zurück of the last). These repetitions heighten the poetic effect; here they help to evoke a mood of sadness which envelops the author, heaven, and earth.
In recent years the life and works of Lenz have again been brought to the attention of a wider public. The German poet and theater director Bertolt Brecht staged several of Lenz’ dramas and the Partisan Review published a translation of Georg Büchner’s short novel Lenz which gives insight into the tortured mind of the poet.
“WO BIST DU ITZT”
Wo bist du itzt, mein unvergesslich Mädchen,
Wo singst du itzt?
Wo lacht die Flur, wo triumphiert das Städtchen,
Das dich besitzt?
Seit du entfernt, will keine Sonne scheinen,
Undes vereint
Der Himmel sich, dir zärtlich nachzuweinen,
Mit deinem Freund.
All unsre Lust ist fort mit dir gezogen,
Still überall
Ist Stadt und Feld. Dir nach ist sie geflogen,
Die Nachtigall.
O komm zurück! Schon rufen Hirt und Herden
Dich bang herbei.
Komm bald zurück! Sonst wird es Winter werden
Im Monat Mai.
“WHERE ARE YOU NOW”
Where are you now, my unforgettable maiden,
Where do you sing now?
Where smiles the field, where does the small town triumph
Which possesses you?
Since you are gone, no sun will shine
And Heaven itself,
To weep after you tenderly,
Unites with your friend.
All our happiness has gone with you,
Quiet everywhere
Is town and field. It followed you in flight —
The nightingale.
Oh do return! Already herds and shepherds
Recall you anxiously.
Oh, come back soon! Else there will be winter
In the month of May.
Friedrich Schiller
(1759-1805)
Schiller, often extolled as Germany’s foremost dramatic author, carried his flair for dramatic presentation into his lyric poems. Since the ba
llad is the most dramatic form in poetry, it is scarcely surprising that Schiller was inevitably drawn to this form and produced many of his most popular poems in it. With the ballad Der Handschuh we can gain insight into his lyric-dramatic workshop, especially since the source of the poem, a less-than-hundred word anecdote, has come down to us. Out of this sparse raw material Schiller wove the strands of his ballad, instinctively using the methods of the theater. In the first stanza Schiller sets his stage; the second, third, and fourth stanza resemble the “rising action” of the drama, provided in the poem by the ever more exciting appearance of the ferocious animals. Here Schiller has transformed the static description of an anecdote into gripping, dynamic action. The climax comes with the mocking challenge of the frivolous damsel and the knight’s descent into the dangerous arena. The final stanza, like the last act of a play, brings the terse and surprising solution.
Schiller’s ballads, in contrast to the ordinary folk-ballads, usually contain a philosophical, ethical, or moral idea. When Schiller called this poem a Nach-stiick (epilogue) to his earlier ballad, “The Diver,” he provided a clue to the idea underlying Der Handschuh. With both poems comes the admonition that “Man must not tempt the gods.” But while the solution in the earlier work is tragic, here Schiller drives the lesson home with a twist not devoid of grim humor.
Introduction to German Poetry Page 3