Poetry in Translation: Auf diesem Hügel

Writer Bettina von Arnim was both a muse and a creator of the Romantic movement. Filled with boundless energy, in love with Love, she was the era's fairy queen, a unique spirit who lived her life as a great Romantic and creative adventure.

As a writer, poet, musician, and illustrator, she dedicated her talents to her work and to promoting the work of contemporaries Beethoven, Brahms, and Goethe. She crushed on Goethe, exchanged letters with him, and worked to arrange a meeting between Goethe and Beethoven, believing with all her Romantic heart it would result in an art that would take the world by storm. (Actually, the poet and composer didn't get a long too well and never met again.)

She also contributed her expertise in folk music and composition to the collection of the folk tales and poetry in Des Knaben Wunderhorn, one of early collection of stories that sparked an in folklore in the 19th century, which in turn led to the Grimm Brothers' collection.

Later, she married poet Achim von Arnim (whose poem "Ritt im Mondschein" I translated earlier). They had seven children and Bettina continued to write and correspond with other famous creatives, such as Liszt, Schuman, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. In fact, Bettina was so active in the arts scene and so eager to be noticed that it's even been speculated that she was Beethoven's "Immortal Beloved," although it was more likely she introduced Beethoven to the possible Beloved, Antonie Brentano, her sister-in-law.

I chose the following poem/lyric "Auf diesem Hügel überseh ich meine Welt" for its Romantic spirit and gentle rhythms as an example of her excellent ear and ability to give the written word a music feel.

Auf diesem Hügel überseh ich meine Welt!
Hinab ins Tal, mit Rasen sanft begleitet,
Vom Weg durchzogen, der hinüber leitet,
Das weiße Haus inmitten aufgestellt,
Was ist's, worin sich hier der Sinn gefällt?

Auf diesem Hügel überseh ich meine Welt!
Erstieg ich auch der Länder steilste Höhen,
Von wo ich könnt die Schiffe fahren sehen
Und Städte fern und nah von Bergen stolz umstellt,
Nichts ist's, was mir den Blick gefesselt hält.

Auf diesem Hügel überseh ich meine Welt!
Und könnt ich Paradiese überschauen,
Ich sehnte mich zurück nach jenen Auen,
Wo Deines Daches Zinne meinem Blick sich stellt,
Denn der allein umgrenzet meine Welt.

On this hill, I look over my world!
Down into valley, accompanied by a meadow
Gently divided by a path down to
The white house placed in the middle
What is it that holds my attention?

On this hill, I look over my world!
I climbed up the area's steepest peaks
From which I could see the ships set sail
And towns far and near, proudly surrounded by mountains
But there's nothing that holds my gaze.

On this hill, I look over my world!
And if I could see paradise
I would yearn for those meadows
Where my gaze lands on your rooftop
For that alone borders my world.

After her husband's death, Bettina continued to write and publish, becoming a muse again for a younger generation who campaigned for reform and unification in the German confederation. She dared to suggest to the King of Prussia that some reforms were necessary and the king listened—he too, fell under the enchantment of enthusiasm she could create, energy necessary for creative vision.

Cold Comfort: the Poetry of Hanshan

A poet I enjoy reading is Hanshan ("Cold Mountain"), a 9th century Tang Dynasty poet. His poems are small jewels of simplicity and humor.

Whether Hanshan was a real person or a mythic figure is up for debate. Those with a Romantic bent speculate he might have been a beaurocrat who fled Beijing after the An Shi Rebellion to live as a hermit on a mountain where he found his true calling as a poet in communion with nature, writing some 600 poems.

A more prosaic view identifies him with various anonymous monks who wrote poems about nature and Tang society. Which is often the case in these large collections, but I can't help but like the Romantic view. There's soemthing Walden-ish about a civil servant running off to the wilderness and writing love notes to the clouds and mountains.

Hanshan's poems has been translated into English by beat poet Gary Snyder and the contemporary poet and translator Red Pine. The verses paint pictures of nature, refer to Buddhist and Taoist themes, and indicate a cool-headed yet humorous acceptance of life. Cold Mountain becomes a symbol of both his physical home and his state of mind, an emotional journey from loss to acceptance.

In Poem 4 (Snyder translation), he leaves the mountain to visit a town, only to find it devasted by war:

I spur my horse through the wrecked town,
The wrecked town sinks my spirit.
High, low, old parapet walls
Big, small, the aging tombs.
I waggle my shadow, all alone;
Not even the crack of a shrinking coffin is heard.
I pity all those ordinary bones,
In the books of the Immortals they are nameless.

And in Poem 10 (Snyder translation), he thinks about the ones he left behind:

I have lived at Cold Mountain
These thirty long years.
Yesterday I called on friends and family:
More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs.
Slowly consumed, like fire down a candle;
Forever flowing, like a passing river.
Now, morning, I face my lone shadow:
Suddenly my eyes are bleared with tears.

By Poem 26 (Red Pine translation), he has come to accept himself and his exile:

Since I came to Cold Mountain
how many thousand years have passed?
Accepting my fate I fled to the woods,
to dwell and gaze in freedom.
No one visits the cliffs
forever hidden by clouds.
Soft grass serves as a mattress,
my quilt is the dark blue sky.
A boulder makes a fine pillow;
Heaven and Earth can crumble and change

There is a refreshing, immediate feel to Hanshan's poems, as if they were composed today by a contemporary traveler and meditator. Jack Kerouac dedicated his novel Dharma Bums to Hanshan, thus invoking him as a patron guide for seekers and wanderers.

Ma Yuan, Mountain Path in Spring

Poetry in Translation: "Ritt im Mondschein"

Achim von Arnim, one of the compilers of the folk poetry in the Des Knaben Wunderhorn, was a writer in the Romantic tradition. He fell in love with his co-author Clemens Bretano's sister Bettina and dedicated this poem to her entitled "Ritt im Mondschein/Ride in the Moonlight":

Herz zum Herzen ist nicht weit
Unter lichten Sternen,
Und das Aug´,von Tau geweiht,
Blickt zu lieben Fernen;
Unterm Hufschlag klingt die Welt,
Und die Himmel schweigen,
Zwischen beiden mir gesellt
Will der Mond sich zeigen.

Zeigt sich heut in roter Glut
An dem Erdenrande,
Gleich als ob mit heißem Blut
Er auf Erden lande,
Doch nun flieht er scheu empor,
Glänzt in reinem Lichte,
Und ich scheue mich auch vor
Seinem Angesichte.

From heart to heart is not far
Under the shining stars,
And the dew-touched eye
Gazes at beloved far places;
The world rings with hoof beats
While the heavens remain silent,
And as it appears, the moon will
Join me between heaven and earth.

The moon now rises, red with passion,
At the edge of the earth
Just as if it were about to land
On the ground with hot blood,
Yet now it flees upward, shy,
Shining in pure light,
And I also shy away
From the sight of it.

I love 19th century mash notes! He can't wait to see her but his passion makes him shy.

The German poetic idiom is a beautiful and distinct one, adept at word painting with emotion. The reader can hear the hoof beats and feel the moon rising as he presses on, looking at those beloved far places.

I wanted to work this into contemporary English so I made some adjustments to give the text some flow while still retaining some of that Romantic flavor. The lines Zwischen beiden mir gesellt/Will der Mond sich zeigen was a particular challenge, given the compactness of the phrasing.

Bettina married von Arnim in 1811. She was a woman of many talents, and my next translation post will focus on her.

Painting by John Bauer, 1914

Advertising in Translation: Tourist Pamphlet

The tourist industry writes its own kind of poetry. The ad above is taken from a 1920s guidebook to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a place I know well.

The copy reads:

In Rothenburg ob der Tauber, every visitor should see the little architectural jewel that is the Baumeisterhaus, Rothenburg's most beautiful Renaissance house with things to see, historic court, and restaurant rooms. Built in 1596. Telephone 104.

Café/Wine restaurant/Bakery

First class kitchen

Unique baked goods, original Rothenburg specialties almond pastries and holiday bread.

Music and dancing

Owner Richard Gerlinger

"Hutzelbrot" is usually translated as holiday bread or holiday loaves or dare I utter it--fruitcake. (Here's a recipe from FoodGeeks.)

Poetry in Translation: "Urlicht"

Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth's Magic Horn) is a collection of German-language folk poetry compiled by authors Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano and published in the early 19th century. The term "Wunderhorn" evokes the image of a cornucopia and the collection is indeed abundant with a wealth of imagery and lyricism. The poems feature folkloric and religious themes and balance a lyrical simplicity with depth of feeling.

One of my favorite poems is "Urlicht," the original light. "Ur-" is a Germanic prefix suggesting "original" or "primal" or something so ancient it predates recorded history and even human history. In this poem, the "ur" relates to the question of our origins, as mortal beings that came from a divine place to earth and still retain some divine essence.

The speaker of the poem relates his vision of heaven to us with that Sehnsucht (longing) particular to German poetry:

O Röschen rot,
Der Mensch liegt in größter Not,
Der Mensch liegt in größter Pein,
Je lieber möcht' ich im Himmel sein.
Da kam ich auf einem breiten Weg,
Da kam ein Engelein und wollt' mich abweisen.
Ach nein, ich ließ mich nicht abweisen!
Ich bin von Gott und will wieder zu Gott,
Der liebe Gott wird mir ein Lichtchen geben,
Wird leuchten mir bis [in] das ewig selig' Leben!

O Little Rose red,
We live in the greatest need,
We live in the greatest pain,
How I wish to be in Heaven.
For there, I came upon a wide path,
There, arrived a small angel who bade me to leave.
But no, I would not let myself be turned away!
I come from God and I will return to God,
Merciful God will give me a little light,
A light that will guide me into the eternal life!

The rose's symbolism of love and the brief bloom of life dates back to Classical mythology and then incorporated in medieval Christian iconography to symbolize heaven, the eternity behind mortality, and a greater love beyond earthly desires. Thus the poet's faith is strong; he is convinced of his experience, of our spiritual origin, and that no matter what, there will always be something to light our way through the darkness of confusion.

At the 19th century's end, composer Gustav Mahler incorporated several poems from the Wunderhorn into his music. "Urlicht" is featured in the fourth movement of his Symphony No. 2, "Resurrection," a theme which fits the poem well.