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    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 12/23/2022
  • 171 Words
  • 229 Views
  • 4 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

a Glass Floor Underfoot - 25. comfort

.

Romantiker-Bildnisse

Herrn John Höxter gewidmet

 

7.

Die Feste werden fahl. Das Überfließen,

Der offnen Seelen endet im Verdruß.

Wir pflücken Blüten erst, wenn sie Sich schließen.

Den Traum erst, wenn er stirbt in Schmutz und Ruß.

 

Auch Eure Hände, ferne – durch, ermatten

Eh sie zum Trost mich treffen, Freunde . . . Reg

Ist mir die Qual . . . Laßt mich mit meinem Schatten

Allein auf meinem sengend grellen Weg.

 

---------------------------------

 

Romantic Portraits

Mister John Höxter bestowed

 

7.

The feast grows lacking. Via inundation,

The opened-up soul ends in vexation.

We pick the blossoms just as they start to close.

Dreams die dirt in the soot to decompose.

 

Also your hands, stretched – across, weary with pain

Before they meet mine for comfort, friends . . . rain

Is my torment . . . leave me with my shadow there

Desolately upon my scorching glare.

 

 

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Abraham Bloemaert Study of a Tree (circa 1590)

 

 

 

 

_

Copyright © 2022 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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AC Benus
1 hour ago, Backwoods Boy said:

"We pick the blossoms just as they start to close.

Dreams die dirt in the soot to decompose."

So very true, unfortunately.  

I can't resist the technical aspect.  I note that both the original and translation rhyme - but with a different pattern.  Very clever :) 

And I love the painting.  The tree of life, perhaps?

Thanks, Backwoods Boy. I was going to mention, but then decided not to, that I varied the rhyme structure from the original (one of only a couple of instances in my Jentzsch work), but if you asked me why, I might have a hard time articulating it. It just worked out a closer rendering of the poet's meaning (in my personal view) doing couples in the translations than sticking to an a-b-a-b rhyme pattern :blushing:  Somehow I had a suspicion you just might notice :thumbup:

And the artwork is great, isn't it? I love it  

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