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    AC Benus
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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. 

The Ultimate Vehicle of Earthly Bliss - 21. Trapped

.

Gefangen

(nach dem Französischen des Paul Verlaine)

 

Blau steht der Himmel überm Dach

Ein stiller Traum

Und seine Zweige überm Dach

Wiegt ein Baum.

Die Glocke vor dem Himmel dort

Leise klingt

Ein Vogel auf dem Baume dort

Klagend singt.

Mein Gott wie ist das Leben nur

So Klein und matt!

Ein quälend Lärmen hört man nur

Dort von der Stadt.

Was hast du getan, ach, der du hier,

So endlos weinst?

Wohin verlorst du, der jetzt hier

Die Jugend einst? [i]

 

 ---------------------------------

 

Trapped

(after the French by Paul Verlaine)

 

Blue waits the sky above the roof,

A frozen dream,

While boughs sway over the same roof

As if to scream.

The bells wait before heaven there

And slowly ring,

While birds within the tree there

Plaintively sing.

Mon dieu! If life were not only

Small and gritty.

A vibrant pulse is heard only

From the city.

So, what have I done to be here

With endless cries?

Where did you, who are now trapped here,

Spend those youthful sighs?

 

 

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[i] “Gefangen” Toni Schwabe, Ibid., p. 23

https://archive.org/details/3476447/page/22/mode/2up

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Copyright © 2024 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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It has to be a challenge to find rhyming words which fit the meaning of the original poem.  

This evokes desperation, description, endurance, and yet -- joy and love.

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Trapped is most apt a title for this poem. Schwabe makes me feel the granular frustrations of day to day life in a small, sclerotic town with no pulse, no heartbeat. Beyond the roof - the limits of that town - I sense vibrant, warm life, as the first eight lines suggest. Beneath there is greyness and dull despair. Thank you for bringing yet another gem to us. 

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On 6/11/2024 at 10:51 AM, ReaderPaul said:

It has to be a challenge to find rhyming words which fit the meaning of the original poem.  

This evokes desperation, description, endurance, and yet -- joy and love.

It's an interesting topic you raise. Rhyming in translations.

I have sometimes felt matching the original poet's rhyme-scheme to be amazingly liberating (like my efforts with Lorca's "Love from the Darkness Sonnets"). I cannot explain how this works. How what might seem like a limitation becomes expansive horizons. But with Lorca's work, to me the rhymed versions of the poems are infinity closer to the power the originals have.

But other times, like dealing with August von Platen's Sonnets, I do a rhymed version and feel I've not captured the mood of the poem as well as a non-rhymed version can.

So, an interesting topic. One I can't speak about coherently, lol 🤣 

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On 6/11/2024 at 1:20 PM, Parker Owens said:

Trapped is most apt a title for this poem. Schwabe makes me feel the granular frustrations of day to day life in a small, sclerotic town with no pulse, no heartbeat. Beyond the roof - the limits of that town - I sense vibrant, warm life, as the first eight lines suggest. Beneath there is greyness and dull despair. Thank you for bringing yet another gem to us. 

Thanks, Parker. I have read that Verlaine, after being imprisoned in Belgium for his Gayness, retired to a teaching job in small French town. There he was miserably unhappy until he met Julian Letinos, a seventeen-year-old student of his. Their love was great, and after the young man graduated, Verlaine resigned his position and bought a farm for them to settle down as squires. 

So I imagine the poet came to love the town he laments over in the poem above :yes:      

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AC Benus

Posted (edited)

On 6/11/2024 at 4:08 PM, chris191070 said:

This evokes quite a few things.

Thank you, Chris. This poem was challenge to "get right," but I enjoyed the process of working it out

Edited by AC Benus
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