Evening translated

Nina, did you see "Lost in Translation" with Bill Murray? Strangely I couldn't finish watching it... at the time. And my beloved Michael, who lived in Munich, the city of my birth, died before he was able to finish a true German's poetic translation of the opening Rainer Maria Rilke poem "Dear Darkening Ground" to my second book of poetry "The Dawn Tree* (that seems to have been swallowed up by the economy..). (I wish Solingen were close to Munich, I'd ask you to put a rose on Michael Zimmermann's gravve.) Perhaps you would do the honours of translating, just in case? He only translated the first few lines. I loved it. Michael said German is much stronger and beautiful than this translation: Dear Darkening Ground Dear darkening ground, you've endured so patiently the walls we've built, perhaps you'll give the cities one more hour and grant the churches and cloisters two, And those that labor--maybe you'll let their work grip them another five hours, or seven before you become forest again, and widening wilderness in that hour of inconceivable terror when you take back your name from all things. Just give me a little more time! I want to love the things as no one has thought to love them, until they're real and ripe and worthy of you. I want only seven days, seven on which no one has ever written himself-- seven pages of solitude. There will be a book that includes these pages, and she who takes it in her hands will sit staring at it a long time, until she feels that she is being held and you are writing. Rainer Maria Rilke Nina, my first poem in the book,"It is so Written* i'll post tomorrow. Much love, Anna

Dear Nina, The first stanza is yours though, isn't it? ('Her childhood river is my own' ... means a lot to me - actually the whole stanza does) I was wondering about the original German line for 'the cold ghost of wonders', would you mind telling me? (I'm not fluent in German but can understand & read), it seemed such a tricky line to translate. Poetry is incredibly hard to translate in any case so kudos to you! love, ~Stella

I will have to read Schuler's work. I unfortunately am not well educated and therefore not familiar with her. I lived the same kind of thing, ostensibly, through Kerouac when I lived near his hometown of Lowell, Mass about a decade ago. One technical thing: you either have an errant quote at the end of the third to final line, or a missing one somewhere else. That's all I can say is off here, I love how sentimental yet affirmative this is, and can relate. Mark W. Galatians 5:22-23 "22 But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. Against these, there is no law!" My favorite verse(s) in the Bible

I love the first stanza - specially "Her childhood river is my own" - a very moving line. Leonard

I wonder if we know how intricately and magnificently we are all woven together in the cloth of life. It's in nakedness that we see one another for who we are.... one river flowing. Much love, Nina, Leonard, Stella; I'm glad to have found the flowing that happens on Neopoet. ~A "We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. And when you have an intense contact of love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then you understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal." Paulo Coelho

I completely agree Thank you dear Anna ~Stella

every step on Earth is hallowed ground, for life has come and died for us to be here... with that being said I couldn't help but feel the comforting quality of this poem and the ever-so lovely comments on it, like sitting in my grandfather's chair... I'm warmed. Richard

this is a touching poem I love translation poems abstract and full of reach like I like to think in my mind escaping language in new manners I am going to tatoo a symbol from basicaly Festival of the Dead celebrated in November in German somewhere Totten something or other its a cross that looks like clubs from the cards benchs water taps flowers music its very intrinsic to the old ones I love Rammstein they have soft rock too their Lyrics I love too must go now beautiful poem Ink Dragon

You continue to blow me away with your words, spun so masterfully Ink Dragon~ ______________________________________________________ Income-tax forms should be more realistic by allowing the taxpayer to list "Uncle Sam" as a dependent Anonymous

Being rather crudely educated and an extremely limited vocabulary (southern and Texan) I could only get 3-5 words of the original German, but I dearly loved your translation and also Arrow's. Sometimes, no matter how good the poem, the comments are just as intriguing and this was filled with wonderful comments. BTW I was surprised you remember the seven deadly pens I called you.(Ink Dragon / Seven Deadly Pens) For some reason it fits you in my minds eye for the most astute person should realize to "Never piss off a poet." Thank you for a lovely read here. Respectfully, Rett: "Next time you think you're perfect, walk on water."

and again thank you. That you so enrich this site. Years ago I flew to Amsterdam; from there traveled by car to a small town whose name I've since forgotten; from there was escorted to a large room in a large building owned by a very large company ... where a number of depositions were held over several days on a complicated legal matter. In English, of course. After all, we visitors were American. And in general we Americans do quite well at avoiding the learning of other languages. (Most of us even have difficulty with our own.) But I digress. A translator was suggested in advance by the Americans. The request was by the Dutch deemed an insult. The deponents (to a person, evidently) felt confident of their abilities to understand and speak English (er, I mean American). It was my job to understand every word spoken. I didn't. In fact, I had trouble understanding virtually every word emanating from the lips of the natives. And how exhausting it was! An ordeal in spades. And of course I failed. A few I understood at an extended arm's reach of immediately, many more I understood only after much questioning in an effort to gain clarity, and, yes, many I never did understand (no matter the effort). After all, life is measured by a finite number of years. There wasn't enough years left in my life for sufficient understanding. I've made myself tired now just from recalling it. Thanx, Chuck

I just love how you have made this poem your own. you mesh your poetic expression with that of EL-S so smoothly that I wouldn't have noticed it's not yours... a wonderful write. your Proprietress