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    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 08/31/2019
  • 235 Words
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  • 5 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. 

The Thousandth Regiment - 15. "The dark of night lifts, finally overwrought"

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15. Die dunkle Nacht ging hin im Überdruß

Von Wolkendrang und regenschwerem Wind.

Nun steigt der Morgen über Berg und Fluß,

Daß dünnes Rot um die Gewehre rinnt.

 

Wie Falken stößt ein Aufschrei von Signalen

Steil hoch ins Licht. Und wie der Nebel fliegt,

Schaukelt des Tal in einem Netz von Strahlen,

Das scheu und träumerisch die Toten wiegt.

 

So schmerzlich in den Wintertag gebeugt,

Du Land, zerfurcht vom Pfluge der Granaten,

Dumpfhallend, wenn der Heersturm flackernd trieb,

 

Du feindlich Land, mit meinem Blut gesäugt,

Du riefst mich jäh aus Träumerei zu Taten:

Nun hab ich dich wie meine Seele lieb!

 

                              ---

 

15. The dark of night lifts, finally overwrought

By all the driving clouds and rain-heavy winds.

Now morning climbs over mountain and river,

And that gaunt crimson pools around the big guns.

 

Like hawks, mirrored signals cry for help, thrust up

Steeply into this light. Just then the haze parts,

Swaying the valley in a lacework of rays

Which cradle the dead in dreamy reverence.

 

Bitterly twisted in death this winter day,

You, land, furrowed by the rough plow of grenades,

Rumbling dull with the past army storm's flicker,

 

You supposed alien land, weaned on my blood,

You ring me awake from daydreams to action:

You're suddenly dear to me as my own soul.

 

                              ---

 

 

 

_

Copyright © 2019 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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Lyssa

This is an excellent translation of this dark and sad poem. Land nursed by blood, what a depressing picture, and although it is positive, that he feels this land has become close to him as his soul, the way they became bound to eachother is cruel.

The technical side of the poem is very complex and the pictures are so refined, and you translated both perfectly, in my oppinion. Thank you for your hard work and our discussions about those poems. Muha

 

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AC Benus
7 hours ago, Lyssa said:

This is an excellent translation of this dark and sad poem. Land nursed by blood, what a depressing picture, and although it is positive, that he feels this land has become close to him as his soul, the way they became bound to eachother is cruel.

The technical side of the poem is very complex and the pictures are so refined, and you translated both perfectly, in my oppinion. Thank you for your hard work and our discussions about those poems. Muha

 

Thank you, Lyssa. These poems are hard to get through sometimes. I always appreciate that you try to organize your thoughts and emotions to share with us.

Thanks again for all your help and encouragement!  :hug:  

Edited by AC Benus
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AC Benus
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This poem contains a rare word I have added on my own. The idea of signals rising from the battlefield is an open-ended statement on Hans' part. However, seeing the start of these general "signals" is linked with the rising of the sun, I interpret these to be reflected, visual signals. I checked into the history, and the German Army was the first to invent a mirrored signal code for communications on the battlefield in the 1880s (I believe). So I added the word "mirrored" to my translation to make it clear.

I mention all of this because my reading of the meaning of the final line is tied to the sight he's describing. Why is the land suddenly dear to him to such a degree? It's not because he covets it, but because his fellow soldiers -- hurt and desperate to survive -- are still out on the quiet battleground. To me, this spurs the exhausted and inward-looking man to action. He's rallying himself to go and help save as many as he can. The land is precious because it is still supporting his comrades in need; time is wasting.   

Edited by AC Benus
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