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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. 

Translation Trashbin - 55. Meinem Vater in Wahlverwandtschaft

 

Meinem Vater

in Wahlverwandtschaft.

 

 

Auf der Höhe

 

Und immer wilder wird die Luft.

Hoch über mir, im Sonnenduft,

Schweift ein Aar.

Tief unter mir die Flüsse klagen:

„Man hat deinen Vater ins Grab getragen!“

 

So, wie ich trete diesen Fels,

Trat einst mein Vater diesen Fels;

Sein Auge hat wie meins gebrannt

Empor die nahe Felsenwand

Und so das weite, goldne Land

Umspannt.

 

Es wird ein Sohn, ein Sohn von mir,

Die Welt durchschweiten, so wie ich,

Und wenn er über die Klüfte springt,

Neigt er die Stirne ganz wie ich,

Und hört und hört wie’s näher dringt –

Ein Wort, ihm wunderbar bekannt,

Seit tausend Jahren schon bekannt:

„Mein Vater unter der Erde!“

--Peter Baum,

1902

 

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

 

 

Our Father who art

in elective affinity.

 

 

From on High

 

As room to breathe grows more vicious,

High above, in the scent of sun,

An eagle circles as he prowls.

While beneath me, the flows complain:

"One's only planted our forefathers in pits!"

 

But, just as I'm climbing this cliff,

Our forebearers once here climbed too;

Their eyes like mine were fired up,

Taking in another country,

Close to hand, boundless and shining golden bright.

 

A son, a son of mine will come

Who will circulate through the world

To widen it, and span its disparate divides,

Raising the outlook of his cheek

To hear, to hear it draw closer

A name that's miraculously familiar,

One known for a thousand years now:

"Our Father who art underground!"

 

 

 

https://archive.org/details/bub_gb_iGouAAAAYAAJ/page/n107/mode/2up

_

Copyright © 2018 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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The first part of this reminds me of our growing population crowding on planet Earth.  Yet there are still places to go and learn and explore.

The last part gives hope of improving relationships in the world, as I see it, yet there is an intensely personal aspect I am still pondering.

Intensely provoking of thought.

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1 hour ago, chris191070 said:

Beautiful and very powerful.

Thank you, Chris. This poem blew me away -- 1902! Nothing like this in English could have been published before the late 1960s

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AC Benus

Posted (edited)

39 minutes ago, ReaderPaul said:

The first part of this reminds me of our growing population crowding on planet Earth.  Yet there are still places to go and learn and explore.

The last part gives hope of improving relationships in the world, as I see it, yet there is an intensely personal aspect I am still pondering.

Intensely provoking of thought.

Thanks, ReaderPaul. I don't know how to interpret Baums' poem in anything but a Queer context. There are more overtones of "crime" and "liberation" in the original than I'm able to capture in the poet's line lengths, but it's clear Wahlverwandtschaft relates to one's chosen family, and unter der Erde means "underground" in the same sense of a secret/abused/hidden/persecuted community (just as it does in English).

Thanks for reading and commenting. I always greatly appreciate hearing your thoughts and feelings  

 

Edited by AC Benus
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The second stanza reminds me of climbing hills to find the sunny outcrop at the summit, from which miles and miles of mountain ranges stretch into a mysterious purple distance. Such a feeling is exalted, both literally, and in Baum’s poem, metaphorically. From his vantage, he foresees a day and a country in which all the valleys are in the sun, everyone together may enjoy its rays, and none are excluded. May it be so. 

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