This week is genre week and I knew from the beginning that I wanted to write about poems. I’ve read two collections that came out recently in English. One was written by Lutz Seiler, the other one by Uljana Wolf.
To be honest, I find it extremely difficult to review poetry collections and will need more time to do so.
In the meantime, I thought I’d share two older poems with you. I like to learn poems by heart and these are two of my favourites. They are perfect choices for the autumn season. Both poems are mournful and rich in imagery.
I hope you’ll like them.
Gottfried Benn – Asters/Astern (1935)
Asters
Asters—sweltering days
old adjuration/curse,
the gods hold the balance
for an uncertain hour.
Once more the golden flocks
of heaven, the light, the trim—
what is the ancient process
hatching under its dying wings?
Once more the yearned-for,
the intoxication, the rose of you—
summer leaned in the doorway
watching the swallows—
one more presentiment
where certainty is not hard to come by:
wing tips brush the face of the waters,
swallows sip speed and night.
(translated by Michael Hofmann)
Astern
Astern – schwälende Tage,
alte Beschwörung, Bann,
die Götter halten die Waage
eine zögernde Stunde an.
Noch einmal die goldenen Herden,
der Himmel, das Licht, der Flor,
was brütet das alte Werden
unter den sterbenden Flügeln vor?
Noch einmal das Ersehnte,
den Rausch, der Rosen Du –
der Sommer stand und lehnte
und sah den Schwalben zu,
Noch einmal ein Vermuten,
wo längst Gewißheit wacht:
Die Schwalben streifen die Fluten
Und trinken Fahrt und Nacht.
Friedrich Hölderlin – Hälfte des Lebens/Half of Life (1804)
Mit gelben Birnen hänget
Und voll mit wilden Rosen
Das Land in den See,
Ihr holden Schwäne,
Und trunken von Küssen
Tunkt ihr das Haupt
Ins heilignüchterne Wasser.
Weh mir, wo nehm ich, wenn
Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo
Den Sonnenschein,
Und Schatten der Erde?
Die Mauern stehn
Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde
Klirren die Fahnen.
Half of Life
With its yellow pears
And wild roses everywhere
The shore hangs into the lake,
O gracious swans,
And drunk with kisses
You dip your heads
In the sobering holy water.
Ah, where will I find
Flowers, come winter,
And where the sunshine
And shade of the earth ?
Walls stand cold
And speechless, in the wind
The wheathervanes creak.
Beauty is a Sleeping Cat 