Lovely thread so far. I'm bookmarking for now because I haven't time this morning.
Sire:-
Do you know the Dylan?
The verse in Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again.That sure is a strange piece of thinking.
"...and claim divinity when sin runs deep...."
I have never read that sonnet, cryacuz, but that line reflects too much of what is wrong with the world at this moment.
Most of Shakespeare sonnets were dedicated to the dark lady. Ever wonder who she was?
No surprise that you haven't read it letty. In fact, you are the second person in the entire world to ever read it.
Me being the first.
I've notice the dark lady. Maybe she is one of his demons?
Letty:-
According to Hughes (ex poet laureate) she was The Goddess of Complete Being.
Ah, cyracuz, then that be your creation. You are amazing, my friend.
Hmmm. That's interesting, spendius. A composite of the deepest dark, she?
I must do stuff, so I shall return.
Thank you letty. But truth be told, I do not always know what I'm doing until it's done... Thought versus will..
Gents:-
Try Ayesha as a side salad.Haggard's the name.He must have been pretty haggard contemplating that one.
spendius, I suppose that you must be referring to J.Rider.
She who must be obeyed is the sense of the muse, but why must a muse always be female? Cyracuz is awe inspiring.
As is Rilke:
"Rose, o pure contradiction,
desire to be no one's sleep
beneath so many lids."
~Rilke's self-composed epitaph, written before leukemia took his life December 29, 1926. It was the rose, a symbol of love, beauty, and devotion in much of Rilke's writings, which ironically caused the onset of his illness that took his life so suddenly. Months before, Rilke had been gathering roses from his garden for a visitor, and while doing so, pricked his hand on a thorn. The small wound failed to heal and grew rapidly worse, leading to his tragic death at age 51.
In his relatively short life, Rilke had produced a body of poetry and writings unsurpassed in its genius of emotion, insight, and sensuality. "It is my conviction that, by any measure, the two greatest writers of the twentieth-century are James Joyce (1882-1914) and Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)"[Mood 17]. Other scholars and poetry lovers would undoubtedly agree, as Rilke's life and poetry have, especially in recent here in America, attracted the minds of many, with translations of his works and biographies abounding.
Letty
I love Rilke poetry. Did you read "Der Cornet"?
But I still prefer Georg Trakl, an autrichian poet of Rilke's generation.
I think he was the greatest poet of the XX century.
Good morning, all.
Val, I am afraid that I discovered Rilke's beautiful writings by chance while checking out The sonnets of Orpheus. I, of course, had heard of him, but have never done any extensive research, nor reading. I can assure you that I intend to do so.
A tree ascended there. Oh pure transcendence!
Oh Orpheus sings! Oh tall tree in the ear!
And all grew hushed. But in that very silence
a new beginning, sign and change appeared.
Quiet creatures gathered from the clear
unhurried forest, out of lair and nest;
and so it must have been, their stealthiness
was not born out of cunning or of fear,
but just from hearing. Bellow, cry, and roar
seemed tiny in their hearts. And where before
there barely stood a hut to take this in,
a hiding place of deepest darkest yens,
and with an entryway whose doorposts trembled -
you built for them an auditory temple.
Da stieg en Baum. O reine Übersteigung!
OE Orpheus singt! OE houhere Bam in Oar!
Unde alaes schwieg. Doch selbst in der Verschweigung
gink knauer Anfang, Wink Unde Wandlung vor.
Tier aus Stile drangen aus dem klaren
gelösten Waldo von Lager und Genist;
und da ergab sich, daß sie nicht aus List
und niched aus Angst in sech so leise warn,
sondern aus WYöran. Barülen, Schrei, Geröhr
schien klein in iran Herzen. Unde wo eben
gaum en Hütae war, dies xu empfangen,
ein Unterschlupf aus dunkelstem Verlangen
mit einem Zugang, design Pfosten beben, -
da schufst du ihnen Tempel im Gehör.
Rilke.
An auditory temple--so akin to cathedral of the mind, Cyracuz and Val, and those who in here dwell.
Letty
Beautiful poem.
This is one of my favorite Trakl's poems. It is named "Klage" (Lament).
Sleep and death, the tired eagles
Moving around my front all night:
Man golden image
Was swallowed by the frozen wave
of eternity. In terrific reefs
the purple body is tearing.
And the dark voice says its sorrows
Over the sea.
Sister of stormy sadness
See, a frightened boat sinks
Under stars,
The silent face of the night.
(Schlaf und Tod, die düstern Adler
Umrauschen nachtlang dieses Haupt:
Des Menschen goldnes Bildnis
Veschlänge die eisige Woge
Der Ewigkeit. An schaurigen Riffen
Zerschellt der purpurne Leib.
Und es klagt die dunkle Stimme
Über den Meer.
Schwester stürmischer Schwermut
Sieh ein ängstlicher Kahn versinkt
Unter Sternen,
Dem schweigenden Antlitz der Nacht".
I am sorry for my miserable translation. I was only trying to show the extraordinary beauty of the poem.
I am very sorry but I could not give the prodigious force of the poem: for example, the repetition "Schwester stürmischer Schwermut" that, in german, has a so powerful effect.
KLAGE
Dreamless sleep - the dusky Eagles
nightlong rush about my head,
man's golden image drowned
in timeless icy tides. On jagged reefs
his purpling body. Dark
echoes sound above the seas.
Stormy sadness' sister, see
our lonely skiff sunk down
by starry skies:
the silent face of night.
Georg Trakl 1918
Found a better translation on the web. It really is a beautiful poem. Too bad that the wonderful rythm and sound of it is lost in translation.
Val and Cyracuz, Although English is a part of the Germanic language (low German as Walter informs me) I find it difficult to relate. Those poems were both meaningful to me, but since I only speak English, I can understand my floundering over the German words.
The philosophy of poetry is profound, whether Shakespearian or the simple word of a child expressing something from the imagination.
I've always thought that english derives from the celtic and roman languages. There are more similarities between english and latin, (french also) than german. My native tounge, norwegian, is a germanic language, and the similarities between german and norwegian are vast.
The poem val posted shows this. The literal translation of "düstern" is not tired, as val wrote. It isn't dusky either, as suggested in the other translation. "düstern" means "sombre, gloomy or dismal".
Düstern in norwegian is "dyster".
I guess what I'm saying is that I have trouble seeing english as a germanic language. But I may be wrong.
Another word is "haupt". Translated as head. But it could also mean "imperative", or the "most important".
Dreamless sleep- the sombre eagles'
nightlong this imperative repeat
That man's golden image is drowned
In eternity's frozen waters deep
On jagged peaks his purpling body lies
While darkened voice laments over the sea
Sister of stormy sadness, behold
Our lonely vessels demise by starlight:
The silence of the night
Here's another translation I think is closer to the original, although I'm not sure. Did it myself.
Cyracuz, let's see if I can remember the Romance languages:
Spanish; Romanian; French; Italian; Portuguese.
The English language has many words that are borrowed from Latin, and, of course, English grammar is based largely on Latin, but I think English is basically German in origin.
You may be right. I don't know for sure. But anyway. Read that post again. I edited it while you replied.
