Showing posts with label German literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label German literature. Show all posts

"The Life Path" by Friedrich Hölderlin



You too sought greater things, but the weight of love pulls
All of us down, and grief drives us even lower.
Yet the arc of our lives back
Where they came from is not in vain.

High or low! Does a hand not rule silent Nature
In holy night where all the days to come are planned,
And even Hell’s fractured maze--
Ruled by degree, and judged by law?

This much I have learned: unlike mortal masters, you
Heavenly, all-sustaining powers have never
Led me, as far as I know,
Along any level pathway.

A person tries all that life brings, say the heavens,
So that, well nourished, we may give thanks for it all
And understand the freedom
To set forth wherever we wish.

“Lebenslauf,” Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843)
Summer 1800
Translated by Frank Beck 2018

Many poets revise their poems after their initial publication. Usually the purpose is to bring the poem closer to the writer's original intent. With "Lebenslauf," Friedrich Hölderlin did something unusual: he took a poem about sorrow written two years earlier and rewrote it as a longer poem that expresses a nearly opposite point-of-view. 

The original four-line poem was one of 17 short poems Hölderlin sent to his friend, Christian Ludwig Neuffer, in the summer of 1798 for use in an anthology called A Pocket Book for Educated Ladies. At the time, Hölderlin was a 28-year-old former seminary student working as a private tutor for the Gontard family in Frankfurt. He had fallen in love with his student's mother, Susette Gontard, and the relationship had grown tense. The poem, however, expresses not anguish but resignation:

            High was my spirit's aim, but love has already
            Drawn it lower, and grief weighs it down even more.
            So I am making my way
            Through life's arc, back to where I began.

The two years between that poem and the longer one were pivotal ones in Hölderlin's life. He left the Gontard household and moved to nearby Homburg, remaining in touch with Susette. In 1799 he published the second volume of his epistolary novel, Hyperion, set against the backdrop of Greece's fight for independence.

Paradoxically, the suffering caused by parting with Susette made Hölderlin less self-centered. His previous poetry had emphasized life's tragedies; now he wrote with greater freedom, often in a prophetic vein. Rather than lamenting the problems of his existence, he celebrated what he thought life could be, in its highest and most satisfying form. 

During those two years, as Michael Hamburger has shown, Hölderlin learned from the Greeks how to make his poetry more sensuous and concrete. In the case of "Lebenslauf", the quiet resignation of the earlier poem gave way to an heroic self-assertion that seeks to speak for his readers, as well as for himself.

During the following seven years, Hölderlin wrote "Bread and Wine" and the other extended poems for which he is best known. In 1807, however, he suffered a severe mental collapse. He spent the remaining 36 years living in seclusion, cared for by the family of Ernst Zimmer, a poetry-loving carpenter in Tübingen, a town near Stuttgart. 

For nearly a century, Hölderlin's work was not widely known, but in 1913 a young German scholar named Norbert von Hellingrath began publishing an edition of his poems that eventually filled six volumes. Rainer Maria Rilke saw some of the manuscripts while the edition was being prepared, and they became an important influence on the Duino Elegies, which Rilke published in 1923.

The first two stanzas of the 1800 poem in Hölderlin's hand
(Württembergische Landesbibliothek)


"You know I'd like to slip"


You know I'd like to slip
from the loudly buzzing room
when the first pale stars,
high above the darkened oaks,
catch fire.

I want to make my way
through paths that few can find
in the hushed evening meadows --
and with no dream but this:
you’re there, too.

"Weisst du, ich will mich schleichen"
Rainer Maria Rilke/translated by Frank Beck

This is from Rilke's second collection, Advent, published in December 1897. The poems were written in Prague and Munich during 1896 and 1897.

Many of the poems in this collection, like this one, show a more direct and sensual side of Rilke that gives little indication of the mystical, sometimes oracular, voice he would develop later. (The photo shows Rilke at the artist colony in Worpswede, near Bremen, in 1901 or 1902.)

Here's the German poem:

Weisst du, ich will mich schleichen
Leise aus lautem Kreis,
Wenn ich erst die bleichen
Sterne über den Eichen
Blühen weiss.

Wege will ich erkiesen,
Die selten wer betritt
In blassen Abendwiesen –
Und keinen Traum, als diesen:

"Prayer to Life" by Lou Andreas-Salomé

Lou von Salomé as a teenager

As truly as I'd love a friend,
I have always loved you, riddling life,
whether I've laughed with you or wept,
whether you have brought me pleasure or strife.

Even in your sorrow I love you,
and, when you scatter me through space,
I will tear myself out of your arms
as a friend from a friend's embrace.

With all my strength I cling to you!
Let all your fire enkindle me.
Even in the heat of battle
let me unravel your mysteries.

Thousands of years to live and to think!
In your arms I long to remain.
And, when you have no more joy to give --
very well -- you still have your pain.

"Lebensgebet," Lou Andreas-Salomé
Translated by Frank Beck

In 1880 Lou von Salomé of St. Petersburg was 19 and studying at the University of Zurich, one of the first universities to accept female students. She audited courses in philosophy, theology and art history. At the same time, she wrote poems, including this bold declaration to accept whatever life might bring her.

Two years later in Rome, Lou struck up a friendship with 37-year-old Friedrich Nietzsche, who liked her poem so much he set it to music. In an 1882 letter to Ida Overbeck, he wrote, "I found no more gifted or reflective spirit. Lou is by far the most intelligent person I have ever become acquainted with." Lou went on to become Rilke's "lover, mother, and muse" and a pioneering psychoanalyst to whom Freud sometimes referred patients.

A 2016 feature film by Cordula Kablitz-Post tells the story of her life. It is available on Vimeo and other streaming platforms and on BluRay/DVD.

In June 2021 Raleigh Whitinger and I published the first English translation of Andreas-Salomé's 1921 novel, Das Haus.

Apus, Apus

Hans Magnus Enzensberger in 2010

He weighs just forty grams.
For months he lives in the air without a break--
hunts, loves and sleeps up there.
He's indomitable.
"Tyrannical, stormy, high-spirited,"
is what old Brehm calls him.
Shrill cries in a frantic, circling swarm;
furious fights of jealousy.
Awkward on the ground, he easily flies
three, four, five thousand meters high
over our heads, far away--
into the Tropics.
He's streamlined.
He manages without radar.
He drinks as he glides across the water's surface.
He's in synch with the weather.
For so long he sails, motionless, with the thermals,
but his swoop is swift.
Our amazement is nothing to him.

"Apus, Apus" by Hans Magnus Enzensberger
Translated by Frank Beck

Born in Bavaria in 1929, Hans Magnus Enzensberger is the dean of German-language poets. This poem, which takes its title from the Latin name for the common swift, appeared in his 2013 collection, Blauwarts. Ein Ausflug zu dritt ("Blue warts: A trip for three"). The reference in line 6 is to German zoologist and illustrator Alfred Brehm (1829-1884).