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German Matters Literature Poetry

Und wer sind diese mit dem Priester hier Und jener Färse? (Ode to a Grecian Urn – Keats)

I have just received from Reclam “Englische Lyrik-50 Gedichte” English/Deutsch to add to the pile of interesting books I have collected recently. Briefly perusing them yesterday, brought to my attention several poems I had forgotten but interested me greatly. These included Sonnet 116 and also Charles Causley’s,”I Am the Great Sun”. The latter moving me to tears.

 

(Lassmich nicht fuer den Bund treuer Seeen

Hindernisse zu lassen:Die Liebe ist nicht Liebe,

die sich ändert, wenn sie Änderung vorfindet) Shakespeare Sonett 116
Charles Causley
Charles Causley
Ich bin dein Rat, aber du hörst mich nicht,

   ich bin der Liebhaber, den du verraten willst.
Ich bin der Sieger, aber du jubelst mir nicht zu,
   ich bin die heilige Taube, die du erschlagen willst.
(Von «Ich bin die große Sonne» Von einem Kruzifix in der Normandie aus dem Jahre 1632 Charles Causley-Heimatstadt, Launceston Cornwall)
However, since my previous posting on Gottfried Benn’s Cretan Vase, I have been thinking about Keat’s Ode to a Grecian Urn in something of a comparison.It contains many moving lines like:-
Heard melodies are sweet
but those that are unheard
Are sweeter;therefore ye sweet pipes play on
Not to the sensual ear, but more endeared,
Pipe to the spirit dities of no tone:
John Keats
John Keats
ODE TO A GRECIAN URN (ENGLISH)
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal – yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearièd,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
„Beauty is truth, truth beauty, – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”
Classical

Ode auf eine griechische Urne (German)

Liebkeusche Braut der steten Stille du,
Du Pflegekind von Tag und Tag und Schweigen!
Welch blumiges Waldgeschichtchen schilderst du –
Und sagst es süßer als ein Reimereigen?
Welch blattumrankte Mär umstreicht dein Rund
Von Göttern oder Menschen oder beiden
In Tempe oder in Arkadiens Hängen?
Wer sind sie, die an Mädchenangst sich weiden?
Was jagt so toll? Was ringt und flieht so bunt?
Welch Flötenlied? Welch lustberauschtes Drängen?

Gehörtes Lied ist süß, doch süßer ist
Ein ungehörtes: sanfte Flöte, weiter!
O wie du, klanglos, mehr als köstlich bist,
Du geisterhaft-lautlosen Lieds Begleiter!
Nie kannst du, Jugend, lassen von dem Sang,
Wie nie die Bäume hier ihr Laub verlieren;
Du keck Verliebter, nie, nie kannst du küssen,
So nah du auch dem Ziel – doch sei nicht bang:
Nie welkt sie! Wirst du auch entbehren müssen,
Wird Liebe dich und Schönheit sie stets zieren.

 Glücklicher Baum in ewiger Frühlingszeit,

Nie sinken deiner Zweige Blätter nieder.
Glücklicher Sänger, ohne Müdigkeit
Für immer flötend immer neue Lieder!
Und Liebe, Liebe, voll von größerem Glück:
Für immer heiß und der Erfüllung harrend,
Du immer jagende, du immer junge!
Wie steht vor dir lebendige Gier zurück,
Die Herzen satt macht, im Genuß erstarrend,
Die Hirn erhitzt und dürr versengt die Zunge!

Und wer sind diese mit dem Priester hier
Und jener Färse? Welcher Gottheit danken
Im Grünen sie mit schönstem Opfertier,
Dem Kränze blühen um die seidnen Flanken?
Welch kleine Stadt an Fluß, in Bergeshain,
An Seestrand, Stadt mit Burg zu Wehr und Frieden.
Steht diesen frommen Tag mit leeren Gassen?
Du kleine Stadt wirst ewig stumm nun sein,
Denn keinem wird die Heimkehr je beschieden,
Dir kundzutun, warum du so verlassen.

O attische Form, so schön wie nie erschaut,
Um die sich marmorn Mann und Mädchen ranken,
Mit vollen Zweigen und zertretnem Kraut,
Schweigende Form! du rufst in uns Gedanken,
Wie Ewigkeit es tut: kalt Schäferspiel!
Sind wir mit unserm Leid dahin, so findest
Du andres Leid und wirst in Kümmernissen
Den Menschen trösten, dem du dies verkündest:
»Schönheit ist Wahrheit, Wahr ist Schön!« – Nicht viel,
Nur dies weißt du – und brauchst nicht mehr zu wissen.

I am very much endebted to the following website where I hope readers will find much of interest:-
http://www.babelmatrix.org/works/en/Keats,_John-1795/Ode_on_a_Grecian_Urn/de/4712-Ode_auf_eine_griechische_Urne
 
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Ekaterina Serebriakova – Obituary

Sad news but a beautiful and a touching posting….

Fëanor's avatarArt of the Russias

Katya in blue by the fir tree. A wonderful painting of this name, from the brush of the legendary Zinaida Serebriakova, can be found in the Pushkin Museum. On it is depicted a little girl with bright deep and big eyes. This is Ekaterina Serebriakova, Zinaida’s daughter, her right-hand woman, and the preserver of her artistic heritage. A superb graphic artist, painter and interior decorator, Ekaterina died on August 26, 2014, in her apartment on Montparnasse. She was in the 102nd year of her life.

The world of Russian culture has had an immeasurable loss, said the Russian ambassador to France, Alexander Orlov. The ambassador is indubitably correct – and not just because owing to Ekaterina’s efforts, her mother’s legacy was preserved. Zinaida was one of the greats of Russian art, one of the first women to write her name in bright letters in its history. Ekaterina herself was…

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German Matters Literature Poetry

“What’s bad” and a “Cretan Vase”; Two poems by Gottfried Benn

Was schlimm ist*1886-1956+Schriftsteller, Arzt, DPortr„t mit ZigaretteFoto: Fritz Eschen

Wenn man kein Englisch kann,
von einem guten englischen Kriminalroman zu hören,
der nicht ins Deutsche übersetzt ist.

Bei Hitze ein Bier sehn,
das man nicht bezahlen kann.

Einen neuen Gedanken haben,
den man nicht in einem Hölderlinvers einwickeln kann,
wie es die Professoren tun.

Nachts auf Reisen Wellen schlagen hören
und sich sagen, daß sie das immer tun.

Sehr schlimm: eingeladen sein,
wenn zu Hause die Räume stiller,
der Café besser
und keine Unterhaltung nötig ist.

Am schlimmsten:
nicht im Sommer sterben,
wenn alles hell ist
und die Erde für Spaten leicht.

 

Die jemanden zum Schreiben inspiriert:- http://forum.thailand-tip.com/index.php?topic=3684.0;wap2

Was schlimm ist

Wir sind ja so gefordert in Thailand.
Was ist denn wirklich schlimm?
Die Immigration,
die Bargirls,
die Potenzpillen,
das Brautgeld,
die Korruption,
die Roten,
die Gelben,
die Geschichten aus Hinterindien?GB

 

 

 

 

                                                                       

                                                                     

                                                                      KRETISCHE VASEGottfried Benn

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=32yURfFuCr4C&pg=PA100&lpg=PA100&dq=Benn+-Cretan+Vase+Gottfried&source=bl&ots=a4YeE6rJ_0&sig=WOCGP_S3mmovP3

Cretan Vase

You, your lips full of the perfume of wine,

Blue enclosure of clay

And sound,

Band of roses round the draught of Myceanean light,

Useless vessel,

Longing for thirst to be stilled,

Far diffused.

 

Slackenings,

Free-birth is accomplished.

Shining loosely beasts,

Rocks, bright unpurposed things:

Strips of violets, lukewarm skulls like flowers

Or blood on meadows.

 

Wave against torpor and forehead,

Burner of deep bacchanalia against the stigmata of annihilation:

Young growth and conscious brain,

Wash away, dust away-

Boy’s hands, athletes limbs,

Embraced by space,

Stand you on jug and slope,

When with fish-head, onions, flutes

Leda-festivals turn rose-red coupling,

Plane, decline.

Translation as provided in Penguin Poets

Twentieth Century Verse

Edited by Patrick Bridgwater

 

 

GB1

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Sarah Siddons

Sarah Siddons and her portraits…..

jonathan5485's avatarmy daily art display

Sarah Siddons by J. Dickinson Sarah Siddons by J. Dickinson

The subject of my blog today is not an artist, although many would term her a theatrical artist, and in fact she was looked upon as one of the greatest English tragic actors of the eighteenth century. She was a Shakespearean actor of great renown and particularly famous for her interpretations of Lady Macbeth. She was a lady who was so popular that her portrait was painted a number of times by leading portraitists of the time. Let me introduce you to Sarae Kemble, later known as Sarah Siddons.

Sarae Kemble was born in the Welsh town of Brecon in July 1755. She was the eldest of twelve children of Roger Kemble and his wife Sarah Ward. Her father, who was a theatre manager, managed a troupe of travelling actors, the Warwickshire Company of Comedians. Sarah was fortunate to be the eldest child as her…

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German Matters Literature Poetry

Noch mehr über Die Tochter des Kaisers von China

Die Tochter des Kaisers von China

 
Die Tochter des Kaisers von China
die tät mich niemals lieben,
hängt ich auch meine Schellenkappe an
ihren Mukatnußbaum.
Statt Orangen und Zitronen
die Sterne in lichtblauer Luft
(ich stahl sie längst mein Schatz)
hingen baumelnd dort.
Der Mond tat mir geben ein Silber,
die Sonne tat mir geben Gold,
und beide zusammen bliesen sacht
und machten die Porridge mir kalt;
doch die Tochter des Kaisers von China
tat so, als säh sie’s nicht,
wenn ich hängt meine Schellenkappe an
ihren Muskatnußbaum
Edith Sitwell
(übersetzt durch Ute und Werner Knoedgen)
Moderne englische Lyrik -ISBN 3-15-009826-2
Das Ambiente dieses Gedicht fühlt sich abgelenkt und noch die Bilder hat eine magische Kraft. Den Rhythmus und die Alliteration scheinen gut in diese Übersetzung arbeiten.
Schellenkappe  bilder.malopho.de
Schellenkappe
bilder.malopho.de
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The King of China’s Daughter by Edith Sitwell, my favourite poem.

parissasheerin's avatarParissa Through the Looking Glass.

The King of China’s daughter,
She never would love me
Though I hung my cap and bells upon
Her nutmeg tree.
For oranges and lemons,
The stars in bright blue air,
(I stole them long ago, my dear)
Were dangling there.

The Moon did give me silver pence,
The sun did give me gold,
And both together softly blew
And made my porridge cold;

But the King of China’s daughter
Pretended not to see
When I hung my cap and bells upon
Her nutmeg tree.

The King of China’s daughter
So beautiful to see
With her face like yellow water, left
Her nutmeg tree.
Her little rope for skipping
She kissed and gave to me –
Made of painted notes of singing-birds
Among the fields of tea

I skipped across the nutmeg grove, –
I skipped across the sea;
But neither sun nor moon, my dear,
Has yet caught me.

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Avant-Garde Outing

Must try to get to these exhibitions-

Fëanor's avatarArt of the Russias

The same day I saw the Popkov exhibition at Somerset House, I also nipped into the St Petersburg Gallery where there was a display of Russian avant-garde works. I took a few a pictures with my Moto G, and as you can see, the picture quality isn’t great.

The curators of this show (Russian Revolution in Art, Russian Avant-Garde: 1910 – 1932) focused on a major dichotomy of the modernist period – figurative vs non-figurative art. While artists, joined up in a multitude of movements, claimed that art was separate from the real world, they continued to investigate abstraction and rhythm, and created new colour and plastic compositions.

The exhibition has more than sixty pieces: paintings, drawings, craft and sculptures. There are suprematists and constructivists, ceramicists and non-objectivists. There is a St Petersburg circle, a Malevich circle, a Moscow circle. There even is a set of Kandinskys before that worthy legged…

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German Matters Poetry

Frag mich nicht-Zarah Leander

– Frag´ mich nicht, ob ich Dich liebe (tango)
Musik: Ludwig Schmidseder, Text: Hans Fritz Beckmann, Dirigent: Freddy Alberti can be seen at www.youtube.com/watch?v=weF_0QScy5c

ZL1

Frag’ mich nicht,

Ob ich dich liebe

Frag’ mich nicht,

Denn was heute Wahrheit ist,

kann morgen Lüge sein.

Heut’ ist heut’

musst du dir denken.

Heut’ ist heut’,

denn das was Morgen ist,

ob du noch glücklich bist,

das weiß nur Gott allein.

Morgen schon,

könnt ich mein Herz einem anderen schenken.

Morgen schon,

will ich vielleicht schon gar nicht mehr an dich denken.

Drum bitt’ ich dich,

frag’ mich nicht,

ob ich dich liebe.

Frag’ mich nicht,

Denn was heute Wahrheit ist,

kann morgen Lüge sein.

Nur in den Märchen

Gibt es Glück für alle Zeit.

Nur in den Märchen

Hält die Seligkeit bleibt man zu zweit.

Frag’ mich nicht,

ob ich dich liebe.

Frag’ mich nicht,

Denn was heute Wahrheit ist,

kann morgen Lüge sein.

Heut’ ist heut’

musst du dir denken.

Heut’ ist heut’,

denn das was morgen ist,

ob du noch glücklich bist,

das weiß nur Gott allein.

Morgen schon

könnt ich mein Herz einem anderen schenken.

Morgen schon

will ich vielleicht gar nicht mehr an dich denken.

Drum bitt’ ich dich,

frag mich nicht,

ob ich dich liebe.

Frag’ mich nicht,

Denn was heute Wahrheit ist,

kann morgen Lüge sein.

This song also reminds me of Carole King’s similar but related feelings as  expressed at www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8KlYc0xG80 with “Will you still love me tomorrow?”

Zarah Leander was a highly controversial figure as can be seen by reading the article at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zarah_Leander

 

ZL2

 

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For the love of Literature

It was a great week and the writing groups especially fruitful.

redwellyyellowwelly's avatarAdventures in Cornwall

Advanced writing workshops in a hotel where Charles Dickens and Oscar Wilde once stayed. Eye-opening information about Cornish medieval drama. Advice on getting published from a bestseller. A fascination with the exotic.

Writers and readers (myself included) flocked to Penzance over the weekend for the annual Literary Festival, expertly organised by a team of volunteers and run over four days in some of the best buildings in town.

Penzance LitFest Programme

From the ultra-modern surroundings of The Exchange to the refined, historical setting of The Union Hotel and the artistic delights of the Acorn Theatre, there were a whopping 85 events on offer to tempt visitors and locals from the delightful sunshine and into a world of bookishness and learning.

I didn’t manage to attend anything like all of the sessions, but here’s a brief rundown of my favourites:

Author Branding – tips from international writer and ex-pat Liz Fenwick on how to create…

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Car Boot Sales -Rosudgeon, West Cornwall

RosudgeonThere are a surprising number of car boot sales in Cornwall as may be clearly seen by looking at the maps and search on www.intocornwall.com/ .Probably the two most popular in West Cornwall are the Sunday event at Hayle which starts as early as  at 8am. Hayle Rugby Club R.F.C, Memorial Park, Marsh Lane, Hayle. In the recent fine weather the Wednesday market at Roseudgeon between Penzance and Helston  fromthe  beginning of April to end of October.

Visiting the Roseudgeon event recently, I discovered a nexus of vibrant activity and fun. In summer, parking might take 10 minutes or so but the fields to which the cars are guided is close to the sea and affords expansive views down to the cliffs on the south coast itself. The stallholders must arrive as early as six in the morning to get a decent pitch . However, revived by a strong cup of tea and an hour of quick sales puts them into good humour. As well as cash, useful information changes hands in relation to where things can be sourced, how to look after a pot plant and keep it in good condition and so forth.

Roseudgeon Car Boot Sale
Rosudgeon Car Boot Sale

There are a wide range of flowers and potted bushes on sale making for a colourful display. There is a mass of cheap fruit and vegetables. (I was cheered by a large  bag of cherries, probably about 1.5kg,  cost just a £1). Naturally, as is my wont -an interesting word deriving from the same stem as the German verb wohnen to live in a place- I headed for the books, DVDs and CDs. There is a rich vein of books on photography-e.g Peace Snapped by Rupert Hopkins 1986 about the Greenham Common Peace Camp.http://www.ruperthopkins.com/gallery.php. I also found an Art book valued new at £383-09 and in pretty good condition for just £8. This is the place to come if you are in search of your favourite type of music, I rather regret not spending £2 on the nostalgia of Manfred Mann! As Tony Benn once remarked,”There is nothing like finding something you have lost-it gives you more pleasure than anything else.” 

Car components etc!
Car components etc!

There are rolls, cakes and drinks for sale and in the hall next to the field tea, sandwiches, scones and fairy cakes are on sale at very reasonable prices. There is something rather typically English and sempiternal about the ambiance, rather like a dance hall frozen into the 1960s with jovial and friendly staff presiding. After taking a break, it is interesting to note that the crowds of punters are a cosmopolitan group. There are locals picking up cheap supplies but also groups of visitors from abroad, discovering facets of popular culture by rooting through shed-loads of cheap DVDs. Everyone wanders through makeshift alleyways, surveying the more specialist stalls providing fishing rods, leather goods and cowboy hats and sturdy, wooden garden furniture.

It was a great pleasure to discover an old friend, MVB- www.rainydaygallery.co.uk– selling off the stock remaining from his recently closed gallery. This included postcards with various intriguing local artists and his family biographies. The latter containing an account of his grandfather; an early pioneer of flying machines. If you are looking for presents for children you will find everything from bags of lego in all shapes and sizes, strategy games and kids DVDs. A Bagpuss DVD retailed for £1 and two lego kits in good condition were about £5. It is a good idea to plan your budget before you start, although I don’t myself regret buying an unaccountably attractive Welsh vase for £1 and a cafitiere in fresh condition for £4 -at least £10 cheaper than on Amazon, say.

Fresh Gingham Rules!
Fresh Gingham Rules!