Collage of the English translations of Goethe's poem 'Über allen Gipfeln'

In 1983, the Dutch poet Gerrit Komrij invited readers of a Dutch newspaper to send in translations of Hölderlin's 'Hälfte des Lebens'. The response was overwhelming. in a book entitled 'De Muze in het Kolenhok' [The Muse in the Gloryhole], he discussed the translations and came up with a final collage translation.

You can see my workshop session on the poem by going to here.
My own translation into English can be seen on the blog for 14.06.10.

If you look at all the English translations in the file posted on 16.10.10 and do a similar collage of Goethe's poem, what do you get?

Here is a suggestion. All comments are welcome!

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh.

In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du

Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde,

Warte nur, – balde

Ruhest du auch.

Over all the hill-tops

Is rest.

In all the tree-tops

Ever less

Breeze leaves a sign.

The wood’s birds no longer are calling.

Quiet now, – dusk’s falling,

Rest will be thine.

COMMENTS

This is a typical cor inquietum poem. And the contrast between nature and dusk and the restless human heart has become a cliché, so it is difficult now not to translate pathos into bathos. This is more than apparent in the last line of the collage translation.

So what have been the priorities? Firstly, not to mention death, sleep or the heart. Secondly, to make sure that the Ruh/ruhest repetition is retained. Preferably the du/du, although this I could not manage. The stress patterns must be adhered to – which also involves observing the same number of syllables in each line. If possible, the rhyme. If not, assonances or suggestions of rhyme. And also the order of events, i.e. try to retain 1, 2, 3 + exhortation (the Swedish had 1, 3, 2).

What was tricky? Everything. Lines ending in unstressed syllables. Rhymes. The meaning of ‘Warte nur’ – the French translation had ‘Patience!’, which gets the sense, but sticks out a bit in the translation. The enjambement of 3-5 is retained, but that of 7-8 has been sacrificed.

Question (from a friend and poet) – How usual, folksy or literary was ‘balde’ rather than ‘bald’ in 1780? Wahrig says AHD (Old High German) bald. According to Deutsche Grammatik, oder Lehrbuch der deutschen Sprache, written by Johann Christian August Heyse (1764-1829):

‘Man spreche und schreibe also nicht balde, dicke, dünne (...), obwohl das deutsche Lied mit Recht die Verlängerungen zurücke, balde sich nicht wird nehmen lassen.’ He then quotes precisely these lines of Goethe’s poem as an example.

And, oh dear!, writes Vöglein and not Vögelein! So what did Goethe actually write on the wall of that hut?

Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh,
In allen Wipfeln spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch.

Es schweigen die Vöglein im Walde;

Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.

7. September 1780

If you want to know more, go to here. Here the whole story is told, with liberal illustrations.

(PS Why did Goethe absolutely have to change things? His 'Mir schlug das Herz, geschwind zu Pferde/Und fort, wild wie ein Held zur Schlacht...' is much better than his later 'smoothie'.)

(PPS It struck me today, Tuesday, that Herder published 'Von deutscher Art und Kunst' in 1773. This might help explain the reference to 'das deutsche Lied' in Heyse. And also why I feel there is more punch in Goethe's original line. It has more of a 'Sturm und Drang' intensity about it and is stronger in terms of rhythm. 'Vögelein' is a bit too 'pretty, pretty' for me.)

Another poem by the Dutch writer Toon Tellegen

I always want to think further,

but I don’t want thinking to come easily

I want obstacles I have to think my way around,

ambushes, ingenious pitfalls,

and I don’t want things to go off well,

that I have a lucky escape,

I want hostile thoughts

that push back, wound, decimate

my thoughts,

I want concepts reduced to ashes and ideas trampled underfoot,

I want my thoughts to be lost,

but feverishly still to be laying plans –

ill-fated plans, wonderful plans –

that’s how I want to think

for as long as I still can.

To -E or not to -E? Some thoughts on translating Goethe's famous poem 'Über allen Gipfeln'

(I refer you to the file that can be downloaded from 'Aldeburgh Poetry Festival 1', 16.10.10)

EIN GLEICHES [WANDRERS NACHTLIED]

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh,

In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du

Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.

Warte nur, balde,

Ruhest du auch.

Goethe’s poem is technically superb. You can see how the rhythm works by disturbing it. Once you do this, sound and sense work against each other, instead of with each other:

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruhe,

In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du

Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Wald.

Warte nur, bald,

Ruhest du auch.

The function of the masculine and feminine line-endings now becomes clear – the way the feminine endings move you on, the masculine bring you to a position of rest. Lines 4-5 are a foreshadowing of 6-7 – just add an unstressed syllable at the beginning and end of 5-6 and you have the rhythm of 6-7. The dactyls are already in place. And they are re-echoed in ‘warte nur’ and ‘ruhest du’. I have looked at all the English translations in the file and not one of them tries to capture this, which is one of the reasons why they fail to convince. There is an intense musicality about the original. Since English lacks unstressed endings (see later remarks), the lilt of the German disappears – and with it something of the message of the text. Out of all the translations, only the Swedish one has paid attention to this, though at the expense of changing the order of the text:

Över bergens kammar

dag dör.

Bland trädens stammar

ej du hör

fåglarnas flock.

I kronorna kvällsvinden somnar.

Vänta, snart domnar,

Hjärta, du ock.

[Over the mountains’ crests (ridges)/day is dying./Among the trees’ trunks/you do not hear/the flock of birds./In the tree-tops the evening wind is falling asleep./Wait, soon will subside,/Heart, you also.]

As soon as you translate the actual Swedish words, the big difference between Swedish and English is immediately apparent – Swedish has vital areas where unstressed syllables are added, while this is not the case in English. More than this: Swedish not only has stress, it has tones. It is Tone 2 (double tone) that gives Swedish (and Norwegian) that characteristic ‘sing-song’ effect. And the Swedish translation has a high proportion of Tone 2. Swedish has many different plural forms of nouns – those ending in –AR (lines 1, 2, 5, 6) have Tone 2. So does the present tense of verbs ending in –AR (lines 6-7). So do polysyllabic nouns ending in –A (lines 7, 8).

Another thing that makes it easier for an unstressed syllable to follow a stressed syllable is that the definite article is placed after the noun in Swedish (and in Danish and Norwegian). This is found in bergens, trädens, fåglarnas, kronarna, kvällsvinden (e.g. the word fåglarnas = fågel + plural + definite article + genitive ending). So the cards are stacked in Sweden’s favour. If you put the two together, Tone 2 + morphological endings, Swedish will find it easier to echo the effect of the original German than English will.
The only (faint) criticism I have of the Swedish translation, which I find very impressive, is the idea of day ‘dying’. Goethe does not mention death in any way in the poem. This is an extension the reader, perhaps, is entitled to make, but I feel it should not be explicit in the translation itself.

(I have just discovered that the translation won a competition in Svenska Dagbladet.
The winner was Axel Gauffin, and his translation published on  26 September 1915)

Another poem by the Swedish writer Lars Gustafsson

From a plane’s recollections

Beneath the surface of things

nothing else is concealed

than the surface of things

As long as something

of the surface is left

there is surface. Nothing else.

ALDEBURGH POETRY FESTIVAL 2

TALK: THE SINGING DANES

The three poems to be looked at can be downloaded here.

To hear two of the songs in their best-known versions, go to here (Grundtvig) and here (Benny Andersen).

NB. The Grundtvig verses are to be read vertically, the other two poems are to be read horizontally.

ALDEBURGH POETRY FESTIVAL 1

CRAFT TALK: ISSUES OF TRANSLATION

To download the two poems to be looked at - 'Barcarole' (1829) by J.L. Heiberg and 'De Profundis' (1979) by Ida Gerhardt - go to here.

To download the Goethe poem 'Über allen Gipfeln' in many translations, go to here.

Poem by the Dutch writer Pieter Boskma

Confiscation

Now that for half a century I’ve walked this masterly earth,

full of wonder and amazement and with the strong idea

that once that once that once I may just grasp my every

step and all the words I’ve written, and all that I have felt

will come together for good to form an adage of love,

now the time comes for me to become a landscape

and be the animal within it that simply gazes all around

since everywhere the beautiful and everywhere the good

extend equally like a tremor in the grass,

and then, softly whining with happiness, that parts

the evening clouds for a sip of light, for it wants no

further darkness, no laboured efforts to conceive things

other than what, in the depths of their being, they – since

the beginning, hovering over dark waters – have always been.

A poem from 'Palimpsest' by the Danish poet Klaus Høeck

THE RIBBON OF EXTREMES

(1932)

throughout my entire

production runs a ribbon

of incomprehen

sibility (like

a milky way) a ribbon

of paradoxes

a thin möbius

strip that binds words and senten

ces and images

together into

the whole that makes the poems

understandable

(To see the original painting, go to here)

Poem by the Danish poet Ambrosius Stub (1705-58)

You rosebud sweet and fair

        You rosebud sweet and fair!

Close to, let me inspect you!

Each man must needs respect you,

        In you all nature’s art

        And splendour dwell apart;

Each petal’s coloured feather

Leaves us uncertain whether

        Apparel neat and trim

        Says more than splendour’s whim:

A maze where coloured petals –

In paths where each unsettles –

        Add fragrance to the air;

        You rosebud sweet and fair!

        Today, alas, you’re gone,

But yesterday with pleasure

I viewed your thorn-borne treasure;

        I plucked you, whereupon

        Today, alas, you’re gone.

Your bright shades fade and pall

Your dull red tells me all

        Your glory is but brief

        Your beauty held in fief;

You jewel of nature’s crown,

Where now is your fine gown?

        Your blossoming is done,

        Today, alas, you’re gone.

        Come, Phyllis, come and see

My rose does now invite you;

Your beauty won’t requite you;

        Come, Phyllis, come and see!

        Your image view quite freely!

All that’s a source of pleasure

Cheeks crimson beyond measure,

        That mouth, its honeyed ploy

        Those eyes, their sparkling joy

That neat body, those neat hands

That every favour do command

        Do fade; come, Phyllis, see

        Your image view quite freely!

        One beauty outlasts others –

When all else only withers –

And years and age outweathers,

        And gains eternal vales

        One beauty never fails.

Virtue, Phyllis, its name,

Seek it ere time’s no claim!

        And that a spirit true

        May dwell as is its due,

Live but to praise your maker

In virtue be its taker!

        So when all else does wither,

        Your beauty lasts forever.

Here is a translation of a Latin 'dies irae' by Thomas of Celano, 13th century

I can't resist this one - the last religious poem for a while, I promise! The translation dates from 1849 and is by William Josiah Irons, who turns out to be the son of the brother of my great-great-great-grandfather. It's all in the genes!

Day of wrath! O day of mourning!

See fulfilled the prophets' warning,

Heaven and earth in ashes burning!

Oh, what fear man's bosom rendeth,

when from heaven the Judge descendeth,

on whose sentence all dependeth.

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth;

through earth's sepulchers it ringeth;

all before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking,

all creation is awaking,

to its Judge an answer making.

Lo! The book, exactly worded,

wherein all hath been recorded:

thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge his seat attaineth,

and each hidden deed arraigneth,

nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading?

Who for me be interceding,

when the just are mercy needing?

King of Majesty tremendous,

who dost free salvation send us,

Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Think, good Jesus, my salvation

cost thy wondrous Incarnation;

leave me not to reprobation!

Faint and weary, thou hast sought me,

on the cross of suffering bought me.

shall such grace be vainly brought me?

Righteous Judge! For sin's pollution

grant thy gift of absolution,

ere the day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning,

all my shame with anguish owning;

spare, O God, thy suppliant groaning!

Thou the sinful woman savedst;

thou the dying thief forgavest;

and to me a hope vouchsafest.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing,

yet, good Lord, in grace complying,

rescue me from fires undying!

With thy favored sheep O place me;

nor among the goats abase me;

but to thy right hand upraise me.

While the wicked are confounded,

doomed to flames of woe unbounded

call me with thy saints surrounded.

Low I kneel, with heart submission,

see, like ashes, my contrition;

help me in my last condition.

Ah! that day of tears and mourning!

From the dust of earth returning

man for judgment must prepare him;

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!

Lord, all pitying, Jesus blest,

grant them thine eternal rest. Amen.