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Showing posts with label Poet: Christian Morgenstern. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: Christian Morgenstern. Show all posts

Delayed Action -- Christian Morgenstern

Wrapping up the theme...
(Poem #753) Delayed Action
 Korf invents some jokes of a new sort
 That only many hours later work.
 Everybody listens to them, bored.

 Yet, like some still fuse glowing in the dark,
 You wake up suddenly that night in bed
 Beaming like a baby newly fed.
-- Christian Morgenstern
Translated from the German by W. D. Snodgrass and Lore Segal.

Morgenstern has been described as the canonical example of the
untranslatable poet. Today's poem, though, exhibits none of the mystery and
magic of, say, "Der Lattenzaun" or "Das Mondschaf"; it's merely a charming
piece of whimsy, and deserves to be delighted in for that reason alone.

thomas.

[Moreover]

Here's the German original:

 "Korf erfindet eine Art von Witzen"

 Korf erfindet eine Art von Witzen,
 die erst viele Stunden später wirken.
 Jeder hört sie an mit Langerweile.
 Doch als hätt ein Zunder still geglommen,
 wird man nachts im Bette plötzlich munter,
 selig lächelnd wie ein satter Säugling.

        -- Christian Morgenstern

And here's Babelfish's stab at translation:

 "Korf invents a type of jokes"

 Korf invents a type of jokes,
 those only many hours later work.
 Everyone hears it on with long while.
 But as if a scale haett quietly geglommen,
 becomes at night suddenly lively one bed bed,
 blessedly smiling like a full baby.

        -- Christian Morgenstern / babelfish.altavista.com

Of course, the conjunction of German, translation and new jokes reminds me
irresistibly of Monty Python's "Funniest Joke in the World" sketch, which
you can read at http://www.montypython.net/scripts/funniest.php .

[And finally]

If the idea, theory and practice of translation fascinates you, I can't do
better than to recommend Douglas Hofstadter's wonderful book "Le Ton beau de
Marot", which is almost as much of a tour de force as his earlier
masterpiece, "Godel, Escher, Bach". Read them both.

The Moonsheep -- Christian Morgenstern

Guest poem submitted by Amit Chakrabarti:
(Poem #424) The Moonsheep
The moonsheep stands upon the clearing.
He waits and waits to get his shearing.
        The moonsheep.

The moonsheep plucks himself a blade
returning to his alpine glade.
        The moonsheep.

The moonsheep murmurs in his dream:
'I am the cosmos' gloomy scheme.'
        The moonsheep.

The moonsheep, in the morn, lies dead.
His flesh is white, the sun is red.
        The moonsheep.
-- Christian Morgenstern
1920.
Translated by Max Knight.

[Personal feelings]

The first time I read this surrealistic beauty of a poem, it was about 2.30
a.m., I was almost sleepy, and was startled wide awake. I reread and reread it,
savouring its delightful couplets and the hypnotic and insistent repetitions of
its refrain.

The sudden splash of a totally unexpected image in the final couplet (the *red*
sun) strikes me almost literally, even on the nth reading.

The first read wasn't too long ago, but I suspect this is one of those poems
that will remain a gem to me, forever.

Amit.

[Genesis]

This poem is an English translation by Max Knight from the original Deutsch poem
"Das Mondschaf" by Christian Morgenstern from his famous "Galgenlieder"
("Gallows Songs"), all of which are available at this Project Gutenberg site:
   http://www.gutenberg.aol.de/morgenst/galgenli/inhalt.htm

What makes English translations of Morgenstern's poetry interesting is that HE
IS ONE OF THE STANDARD EXAMPLES OF an untranslatable poet. Is this claim true?
You decide.

[Explanation]

Morgenstern hated to 'explicate' his Galgenlieder, insisting that they had far
less hidden meaning to them than many critics were bent on reading into them.
However, when pressed hard, he occasionally would offer a crumb. In this case,
he suggested the moonsheep might be the moon itself -- first against the sky;
then vanishing behind mountains; next, a dream of grandeur, with its own
tininess filling the cosmos; and at least appearing at dawn as a pale disk.

[Bio]

1871--1914. German poet and humorist whose work ranged from the mystical and
personally lyrical to nonsense verse.  Morgenstern's international reputation
came from his nonsense verse, in which he invented words, distorted meanings of
common words by putting them into strange contexts, and dislocated sentence
structure, but always with a rational, satiric point. Volumes of nonsense verse
include Galgenlieder (1905; "Gallows Songs"); Palmström (1910), named for an
absurd character; and three volumes published posthumously: Palma Kunkel (1916),
Der Gingganz (1919), and Die Schallmühle (1928; "The Noise Mill"), all collected
in Alle Galgenlieder (1932).

The above from Encyclopædia Brittanica, of course.

Hope you liked it!

- Amit.

[Minstrels Links]

'The Midnightmouse', also from Morgenstern's Galgenlieder, at poem #252
'The Pobble who has no toes', by Edward Lear, at poem #297

The Midnightmouse -- Christian Morgenstern

       
(Poem #252) The Midnightmouse
It midnights, not a moon is out.
No star lives in the heavenhouse.
Runs twelve times through the heavenhouse
        The Midnightmouse.

She pipes upon her little jaws.
The hellhorse from his nightmare roars...
Runs quietly, her allotted course.
        The Midnightmouse.

Her Lord, the Spirit great and white,
Has gone abroad on such a night.
She keeps watch in his heaven; all's right.
        The Midnightmouse.
-- Christian Morgenstern
translated by W. D. Snodgrass and Lore Segal.

This is Morgenstern at his best. Surreal, hypnotic, eerie - this poem seems to
breathe darkness and night, a velvet curtain drawn over the senses. In its own
haunting way, it's both weirdly grotesque and shimmeringly beautiful. Shivers
down my spine.

thomas.

PS. I especially like the wordplay - the use of 'midnights' as a verb, the pun
on 'nightmare', the artificial compounds... they all contribute to the dreamy
effect.

[Biography]

The Web has zillions of sites devoted to Morgenstern, but strangely enough, they
all seem to be in German (funny, that. I wander why.). Here's the best I could
do; the parts in square brackets are words I didn't know:

Christian Morgenstern was born in 1871 in Munich, to Carl and Charlotte (nee
Schertel) Morgenstern . He studied philosophy and art history at Jura and
Breslauer University; while there, he published (with some friends) a book of
criticism titled 'German Spirit'.

In 1893 Morgenstern was diagnosed with tuberculosis.

In 1894 he moved to Berlin, where he became the culture and literary critic for
the New German [something] and the Artbook. Over the next few years, he became a
prominent figure in the literary establishment, with the publication of works
like 'Youth', 'Free [something]', 'The Company' and especially 'In a Dream
Castle: a New Style of Humorous Fantasy' (a work which presaged the idea of the
theatre of the grotesque. Around this time, he met August Strindberg and Henrik
Ibsen, who influenced his thinking substantially; so much so, in fact, that he
moved to Switzerland and started writing satires and parodies of the Berlin art
movement.

In 1903 he formed a theatre company with Bruno Cassirer (1872-1941), and put
many of his dramatic ideas into practice. The next few years were very creative
ones, as he produced '[something] Songs' and 'Melancholy', more satires, and
several pieces exploring the grotesque.

Morgenstern died in 1914.

So there you have it. Incidentally, the one sentence of English I found after
going through several hundred sites was this: "Poet and mystic, Morgenstern
united a ripe and perfected sense for and formal power in language with a
brilliant playfulness. "

[Minstrels Links]

There seems to be a hint of Robert Browning's Pippa Passe in the last stanza;
see for yourself at poem #133

And as usual, you can read all our previous poems at
http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/