Archaischer Torso Apollos / Archaic Torso of Apollo (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Wir kannten nicht sein unerhörtes Haupt, 
darin die Augenäpfel reiften. Aber 
sein Torso glüht wie ein Kandelaber, 
in dem sein Schauen, nur zurückgeschraubt, 

sich hält und glänzt. Sonst könnte nicht der Bug 
der Brust dich blenden, und im leisen Drehen 
der Lenden könnte nicht ein Lächeln gehen 
zu jener Mitte, die die Zeugung trug. 

Sonst stünde dieser Stein enstellt und kurz 
unter der Schultern durchsichtigem Sturz 
und flimmerte nicht wie Raubtierfelle; 

 und bräche nicht aus allen seinen Rändern 
aus wie ein Stern: denn da ist keine Stelle, 
die dich nicht sieht. Du mußt dein Leben ändern. 


We never knew his lost unheard-of head,
in which the eyes grew ripe like apples. But
his torso glimmers like a chandelier,
in which his gazing, only slightly dimmed,

abides and gleams; or else his breast's proud jut
could not so blind you; in the light-turned lines
of loins there could not be a smile that ran
down to the point where procreation dwelt.

Instead this stone would stand defaced, cut off
beneath the sheer bright crossbeam of the shoulders,
and would not glisten like a tiger's skin,

and would not thus break forth from all its edges,
burst like a star: for there is no place here
that does not see you. You must change your life.

Sonnets to Orpheus I.21 (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Frühling ist wiedergekommen. Die Erde 
ist wie ein Kind, das Gedichte weiß; 
viele, o viele ... Für die Beschwerde 
langen Lernens bekommt sie den Preis. 

Streng war ihr Lehrer. Wir mochten das Weiße

an dem Barte des alten Manns.

Nun, wie das Grüne, das Blaue heiße,

dürfen wir fragen: sie kanns, sie kanns! 

Erde, die frei hat, du glückliche, spiele
n
un mit den Kindern. Wir wollen dich fangen,

fröhliche Erde. Dem Frohsten gelingts. 

O, was der Lehrer sie lehrte, das Viele,

und was gedruckt steht in Wurzeln und langen

schwierigen Stämmen: sie singts, sie singts! 


Spring has returned, and the earth restored
is just like a child who has memorized songs,
many and many, and earns her reward
for the labor of learning so long.

Her teacher was stern. We liked the white sheen
on the beard of the elderly man.
Now we may ask her the word for green
and the word for blue: she can say, she can!

Earth, rejoicing in freedom, come play
now with the children. We want to hold on
to you, glad earth. The gladdest are kings.

O, those many things that the teacher would say,
and what stands printed in roots and in long
and knotty stems: she sings it, she sings!

Abend / Evening (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Der Abend wechselt langsam die Gewänder,
die ihm ein Rand von alten Bäumen hält;
du schaust: und von dir scheiden sich die Länder,
ein himmelfahrendes und eins, das fällt;

und lassen dich, zu keinem ganz gehörend,
nicht ganz so dunkel wie das Haus, das schweigt,
nicht ganz so sicher Ewiges beschwörend
wie das, was Stern wird jede Nacht und steigt—

und lassen dir (unsäglich zu entwirrn)
dein Leben bang und riesenhaft und reifend, 
so dass es, bald begrenzt und bald begreifend, 
 abwechselnd Stein in dir wird und Gestirn. 


The evening slowly dresses, as a verge
of ancient trees holds up its dusky gown;
you look on: and from you two lands diverge,
one that goes heavenward, one that falls down;

and leave you not belonging quite to either,
not quite as dark as houses in still times,
not quite as surely conjuring Forever
as that which turns to star each night and climbs—

and leave to you (unutterable to undo)
your life, uneasy, huge and ripening, blending
so that it, now confined, now comprehending,
becomes by turns a stone and star in you.

Einsamkeit / Solitude (Wilhelm Müller)

Musical setting by Franz Schubert

Wie eine trübe Wolke 
Durch heit’re Lüfte geht, 
Wenn in der Tanne Wipfel
Ein mattes Lüftchen weht:

So zieh ich meine Straße
Dahin mit trägem Fuß,
Durch helles, frohes Leben
Einsam und ohne Gruß.

Ach, daß die Luft so ruhig!
Ach, daß die Welt so licht!
Als noch die Stürme tobten,
War ich so elend nicht.


Just as a murky vapor
Drifts through the air serene,
When in the fir tree’s branches
The languid breezes keen,

So do I in my passage
Go forth with listless feet,
Through life that’s fair and joyous,
Alone with none to greet.

Alas for the air so peaceful,
The world’s bright loveliness!
When still the storms were raging,
My misery was less.

76 (Catullus)

Siqua recordanti benefacta priora voluptas 
    est homini, cum se cogitat esse pium, 
nec sanctam violasse fidem, nec foedere nullo 
    divum ad fallendos numine abusum homines, 
multa parata manent in longa aetate, Catulle, 
    ex hoc ingrato gaudia amore tibi. 
nam quaecumque homines bene cuiquam aut dicere possunt 
    aut facere, haec a te dictaque factaque sunt. 
omnia quae ingratae perierunt credita menti. 
    quare iam te cur amplius excrucies? 
quin tu animo offirmas atque istinc teque reducis, 
    et dis invitis desinis esse miser? 
difficile est longum subito deponere amorem, 
    difficile est, verum hoc qua lubet efficias: 
una salus haec est. hoc est tibi pervincendum, 
    hoc facias, sive id non pote sive pote. 
o di, si vestrum est misereri, aut si quibus umquam 
    extremam iam ipsa in morte tulistis opem, 
me miserum aspicite et, si vitam puriter egi, 
    eripite hanc pestem perniciemque mihi, 
quae mihi subrepens imos ut torpor in artus 
    expulit ex omni pectore laetitias. 
non iam illud quaero, contra me ut diligat illa, 
    aut, quod non potis est, esse pudica velit: 
ipse valere opto et taetrum hunc deponere morbum. 
    o di, reddite mi hoc pro pietate mea.


If a man takes delight in recollecting past
    good deeds, when he reflects that he is faithful,
And has betrayed no holy trust, nor has abused
    the gods in sacred pacts to cheat a mortal,
Then many joys remain in your long life, Catullus,
    stored up for you from this, your thankless love.
For anything that men can say or do that's good
    for someone else, all this you've said and done;
And all of this is lost, pledged to a thankless mind.
    Why, then, should you now torture yourself further?
Why not shore up your spirit, tear yourself away,
    and, since the gods don't wish it, don't be wretched?
It's hard to quickly do away with lasting love;
    it's hard, but still somehow you must achieve this.
This is your one salvation, you must conquer this,
    you must do this, impossible or not.
O gods, if you can pity, or if ever you
    have helped men in the throes of death itself,
Look on my wretchedness, and if I have lived purely,
    relieve me of this plague and pestilence!
It worms its way into my limbs, a deadly languor,
    and from my heart it drives out happiness.
I do not ask that she should love me in return,
    or should (impossible!) wish to be chaste,
But that I may be strong and cast off this disease.
    O gods, I have been faithful—grant me this.

30 (Catullus)

Alfene immemor atque unanimis false sodalibus,
iam te nil miseret, dure, tui dulcis amiculi?
iam me prodere, iam non dubitas fallere, perfide?
nec facta impia fallacum hominum caelicolis placent.
quae tu neglegis, ac me miserum deseris in malis;
eheu quid faciant, dic, homines cuive habeant fidem?
certe tute iubebas animam tradere, inique, me
inducens in amorem, quasi tuta omnia mi forent.
idem nunc retrahis te ac tua dicta omnia factaque
ventos irrita ferre ac nebulas aereas sinis.
si tu oblitus es, at di meminerunt, meminit Fides,
quae te ut paeniteat postmodo facti faciet tui.

Alfenus, heedless, false to your concordant fellows,
Oh, have you now no pity, monster, for your sweet friend?
Now you don’t stick at betraying and cheating me, you traitor?
The disloyal acts of deceitful men don’t please the gods.
These truths you disregard and leave me in wretched straits;
Tell me, what should men do, or wherein put their trust?
You wretch, you ordered me to give my soul to you,
And led me into love, as if all were safe for me.
And now you withdraw yourself and let all you said and did,
Worthless, blow with the winds and through the airy clouds.
Maybe you’ve forgotten, but the gods and Faith have not,
And they’ll make sure you pay for your bad deed in the end.

Fortschritt / Progress (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Und wieder rauscht mein tiefes Leben lauter,
als ob es jetzt in breitern Ufern ginge.
Immer verwandter werden mir die Dinge
und alle Bilder immer angeschauter.
Dem Namenlosen fühl ich mich vertrauter:
Mit meinen Sinnen, wie mit Vögeln, reiche
ich in die windigen Himmel aus der Eiche,
und in den abgebrochnen Tag der Teiche
sinkt, wie auf Fischen stehend, mein Gefühl.

Once more my deep life surges onward, louder,
as if its stream now ran through broader banks.
And things grow ever more akin to me,
and ever better seen all images.
I feel more intimate with what is nameless:
and with my senses, as with birds, I reach
into the windy heavens from the oak,
and in the splintered daylight of the pools
my feeling sinks, as if it stood on fishes.