' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[dughlas]

I think I already mentioned (many times) that Heinrich Heine is one my favorite poets. I found this wonderful, enthusiastic site, and thought I'd share it with you. Here you can find one of the best, if not the best translation of HH's Lore-Ley poem and a very interesting interpretation.

http://german.berkeley.edu/leselust/poetry-corner/heinrich-heine-die-lore-ley/ 

Thanks for sharing.

[Aditus]

I am ashamed to admit, I gave in to my inner nitpicker, and wrote a slightly different version of Robert Clark's translation:

 

The Lore-Ley
I know not what it should imply,
That I am so forlorn;
A tale from times so long gone by
From my thoughts cannot be torn.
The air is cool and it darkens,
And the Rhine does calmly flow;
The peak of the mountain sparkles
In the sinking sun’s last glow.
The most beautiful maiden, so
Wondrously up there,
Her golden jewelry gleams,
She combs her golden hair.
She combs with a golden comb
And thereby sings a song;
A seeming wondrous tone
With a melodye violent-strong.
The seaman in his tiny boat
It grasps with wilding woe,
He no more looks at the rock-reefs,
He only looks up from below.
I believe the swells did devour,
In the end, both skipper and skiff;
they saw their final hour,
By Lore-Ley’s song and her riff.

Edited November 5, 2016 by aditus

[Parker Owens]

Thanks, Adi, for your translation. It's wonderful.

[Mikiesboy]

I am ashamed to admit, I gave in to my inner nitpicker, and wrote a slightly different version of Robert Clark's translation:

 

The Lore-Ley

I know not what it should imply,

That I am so forlorn;

A tale from times so long gone by

From my thoughts cannot be torn.

The air is cool and it darkens,

And the Rhine does calmly flow;

The peak of the mountain sparkles

In the sinking sun’s last glow.

The most beautiful maiden, so

Wondrously up there,

Her golden jewelry gleams,

She combs her golden hair.

She combs with a golden comb

And thereby sings a song;

A seeming wondrous tone

With a melodye violent-strong.

The seaman in his tiny boat

It grasps with wilding woe,

He no more looks at the rock-reefs,

He only looks up from below.

I believe the swells did devour,

In the end, both skipper and skiff;

they saw their final hour,

By Lore-Ley’s song and her riff.

Me thinks I like this version better ... it's great Adi!!

[asamvav111]

They whisper the cruel one

Leaves at dawn:

Grow, night,

And blot out tomorrow. (46)

 

Hair like ruffed feathers,

Half open eyes,

The body in tremors needing rest:

Having played the man,

You now know how we suffer. (52)

 

The way he stared,

I kept covering myself,

Not that I wanted him

To look elsewhere. (73)

 

The sky Whelmed over

The village tank,

And not a lotus crushed

Nor a flamingo less. (110)

 

His form

In my eyes,

His touch

In my limbs,

His words

In my ears,

His heart

In my heart:

Now who's

Separated? (132)

 

Ignorant of how it ends,

The bride, having come,

Looks up as if to say

'Go on'. (155)

 

While the bhikshu

Views her navel

And she

His handsome face,

Crows lick clean

Both ladle and alms bowl. (162)

 

Day's work done,

The sad harvestman

Idles in the field,

Avoids returning

To a widowed hearth. (169)

 

Aunt,

Will he ever

Know my grief?

 

Can image

Pierce mirror? (204)

 

Bookish lovemaking

Is soon repetitive:

It's the improvised style

Wins my heart. (274)

 

 

 

A few gems from " The Absent Traveller: Prakrit Love Poetry from the Gathasaptasati of Satvahana Hala", translated by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, published by Penguin Classics, 2008.

[Mikiesboy]

They whisper the cruel one

Leaves at dawn:

Grow, night,

And blot out tomorrow. (46)

 

Hair like ruffed feathers,

Half open eyes,

The body in tremors needing rest:

Having played the man,

You now know how we suffer. (52)

 

The way he stared,

I kept covering myself,

Not that I wanted him

To look elsewhere. (73)

 

The sky Whelmed over

The village tank,

And not a lotus crushed

Nor a flamingo less. (110)

 

His form

In my eyes,

His touch

In my limbs,

His words

In my ears,

His heart

In my heart:

Now who's

Separated? (132)

 

Ignorant of how it ends,

The bride, having come,

Looks up as if to say

'Go on'. (155)

 

While the bhikshu

Views her navel

And she

His handsome face,

Crows lick clean

Both ladle and alms bowl. (162)

 

Day's work done,

The sad harvestman

Idles in the field,

Avoids returning

To a widowed hearth. (169)

 

Aunt,

Will he ever

Know my grief?

 

Can image

Pierce mirror? (204)

 

Bookish lovemaking

Is soon repetitive:

It's the improvised style

Wins my heart. (274)

 

 

 

A few gems from " The Absent Traveller: Prakrit Love Poetry from the Gathasaptasati of Satvahana Hala", translated by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, published by Penguin Classics, 2008.

They are wonderful... thanks for posting them.

[Parker Owens]

I won't repost your translation in its entirety, but I can only say how evocative and beautifully melancholy these verses are. Thank Yiu so much for sharing these!

[asamvav111]

I won't repost your translation in its entirety, but I can only say how evocative and beautifully melancholy these verses are. Thank Yiu so much for sharing these!

Thank you Parker. But I didn't translate these myself. These are a part of an anthology of 700 poems collected by king Hala of satbahana dynasty from 1st century CE, composed in Maharashthri Prakrit. The poems have a very distinct flavour of the soil & are of erotic nature. Rare for the age and even afterwards, a lot of these were composed by women. Arvind Mehrotra, a learned scholar, have translated them from the original prakrit, and I must say his translations have managed to capture the beauty of the verses quite aptly. I will share a few more of my liking sometime later. Kisses. 

[northie]

Just watched this on BBC news: crowd sourced poetry on Exmoor in Devon. I hope the video works ...

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-37891845

Edited November 6, 2016 by northie

[asamvav111]

Just watched this on BBC news: crowd sourced poetry on Exmoor in Devon. I hope the video works ...

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-37891845

What a wonderful idea! Alas, we will never be able to do something like that in India. The level of education & inspiration is rather low.

[Aditus]

Emma Lazarus:

 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

„Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!“ cries she
With silent lips. „Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.“

 

I always loved this and quoted it many times in the last year. Please remember not to discuss politics here.

[Valkyrie]

 

Emma Lazarus:

 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame

With conquering limbs astride from land to land

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

 

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

 

„Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!“ cries she

With silent lips. „Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

 

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me:

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.“

 

I always loved this and quoted it many times in the last year. Please remember not to discuss politics here.

 

Thank you for posting this, Adi.  I'm in tears right now.   

[Aditus]

Thank you for posting this, Adi.  I'm in tears right now.  

 

[Emi GS]

In three hundred and fifty parts she came

Brought the Liberty to enlightening the world

Freedom to breathe, freedom to do and freedom to live

That glory she kept with all and above the world

[Mikiesboy]

Two new poems   I posted earlier, some of you have read them.  Thank you!!!!

[AC Benus]

No star is o'er the lake,

Its pale watch keeping,

The moon is half awake,

Through gray mist creeping,

The last red leaves fall round

The porch of roses,

The clock hath ceased to sound,

The long day closes.

 

Sit by the silent hearth In calm endeavour,

To count the sounds of mirth,

Now dumb for ever.

Heed not how hope believes

And fate disposes:

Shadow is round the eaves,

The long day closes.

 

The lighted windows dim

Are fading slowly.

The fire that was so trim

Now quivers lowly.

Go to the dreamless bed

Where grief reposes;

Thy book of toil is read,

The long day closes.  

 

Henry Fothergill Chorley

 

 

See here.

[northie]

And set by Arthur Sullivan, I think?

[Parker Owens]

For Remembrance Day. For all who served. 

 

Remembering

 

Was it enough, my life to give, 

sufficient that my friends might live, 

my home and hearth defended, whole, 

the foe turned back, a fugitive? 

 

Remind me now which worthy goal

was reason for me to enroll 

to join the tide and battles fight, 

in desert heat or trench-dug hole.

 

I thought we'd set the world aright, 

affirm democracy's pure might,

and storm the tyrant's citadel - 

but fate lay hidden from my sight.

 

I know not what event befell 

my body, as the gates of hell 

burst forth in their imperative; 

was it enough? I cannot tell.

 

 

Thanks, AC for making this much better.

[AC Benus]

 

For Remembrance Day. For all who served. 

 

Remembering

 

Was it enough, my life to give, 

sufficient that my friends might live, 

my home and hearth defended, whole, 

the foe turned back, a fugitive? 

 

Remind me now which worthy goal

was reason for me to enroll 

to join the tide and battles fight, 

in desert heat or trench-dug hole.

 

I thought we'd set the world aright, 

affirm democracy's pure might,

and storm the tyrant's citadel - 

but fate lay hidden from my sight.

 

I know not what event befell 

my body, as the gates of hell 

burst forth in their imperative; 

was it enough? I cannot tell.

 

 

Thanks, AC for making this much better.

 

Gosh, it's powerful. It's more meaningful today, on this side of recent events, than when we were working on it. Thanks for posting it, Parker.  

[AC Benus]

Be sure to check out Emi's Haiku here:

 

https://www.gayauthors.org/story/emi-gs/poetrysagafa2016_emi/1

[Parker Owens]

A new ballade to look at today in Occasional Poetry....https://www.gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/occasionalpoetry/54

[Aditus]

A new ballade to look at today in Occasional Poetry....https://www.gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/occasionalpoetry/54

I've been reading this loud on the bus... Why did people look funny at me? It's great and I made sure to tell them it's not my words, just borrowed. 

[AC Benus]

A new ballade to look at today in Occasional Poetry....https://www.gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/occasionalpoetry/54

Liked and reviewed. Very impressive form work here, Parker. Hats off! 

[Parker Owens]

I've been reading this loud on the bus... Why did people look funny at me? It's great and I made sure to tell them it's not my words, just borrowed. 

You have made my day...read aloud on the bus! Which gets me wondering why we don't read poetry aloud to one another more often...Whatever will your fellow riders think? 

[Aditus]

You have made my day...read aloud on the bus! Which gets me wondering why we don't read poetry aloud to one another more often...Whatever will your fellow riders think? 

I fear they thought I'm weird. Well, maybe not everyone...