I’m on a roll tonight. This is another Rilke piece, known as Du, Nachbar Gott. It isn’t a love poem, at least not in any light sense of the term. (Deep!)
You, neighbor God, if, during these long nights
I should disturb you with loud knocking—
So it goes. Because I rarely hear you breathe
And know: you’re alone in there.
When you need something, and no one’s there
To give you a sip from the cup of water you’re fumbling for:
I am always listening. Give the smallest sign.
I’m right here.Only this slender wall is between us,
Merely by chance; it very well could be that:
A single cry from you or from me—
And it would crumble
Without so much as a whisper.The wall is made in your image.
Your images stand before you like names.
And if my light should escape me
And the depths of me thereby recognize you,
Then deflect it with the brilliance of your form.And my sanity, rapidly waning,
Is without home, broken off from you.
Maddening.
Conor,
Thanks for the reminder of how much learning and fun can come from struggling with poetry translating. Here’s my take on the same:
You, neighbor God, if I disturb you with hard knocking
Sometime in a long night,–
It’s because I seldom hear you breathing
And I know you are alone in that room.
And if you need something, there’s no one there
To hand you the drink you are reaching around for.
I am always listening. Give a little sign.
I am very close.
Only a slender wall is between us,
By chance; because it could be:
A call from your mouth or mine–
And it would break in
Completely void of noise or sound.
The wall is made out of your pictures.
And your pictures stand before you like names.
And if someday the light in me burns away
The light by which the deep parts of me recognize you,
Squanders itself in the shimmer on the frames of the pictures of you.
And my senses which quickly become lame
Are homeless and separated from you.
As is a typical conversation for us, I wonder how much your translation is shaped around complementing the understanding conveyed by mine, Paul. Likewise, I wonder how much my own was shaped by anticipating what you would have written, our two versions like a Rorschach, balancing in juxtaposition just outside what otherwise might have been.
For instance, was your first thought really to write “pictures” rather than “images”? You added “void” where I didn’t think of it. I misinterpreted “sich vergeuden,” probably because I was trying so hard to characterize the Neighbor in a certain… light.
Overall your penultimate stanza comes so much closer to what I felt when I read Rilke’s. I wish there were a way to experience both versions simultaneously.
Is that what music is? Many poems, all at once?
Yes! I wouldn’t have even touched the poem if you had not translated it first. And you have some really great poetic ways of translating some things in all these poems. I liked “crumble without so much as a whisper”
My first thought was “pictures” because though “image” is the theologically common translation, it loses the everyday sense that “Bild” has. And “picture” allows for the understanding of the shimmer on the picture frame. The ending is still not right, though.
I think translating poetry might be like interpreting music for performance. Slight changes in phrasing, dynamics, or tempi sometimes affect the entire piece tremendously, suddenly making meaning fit together. There, you’ve done it again! Stimulated more deep thought…..
Yeah, I’m a pretty deep guy, I’d say. I wanted to keep “frame” even though I hadn’t used “pictures” and it was too awkward, so I went a little astray.
I’m still trying to figure out a metaphor for experiencing two poems at once. For two pieces of music at once, there’s something, too, and it sure as hell isn’t poetry.
Ok, now you’re making me want to translate one of my weirdest Greek pieces into English. And I’ll do it, cause I won’t be able to resist. And it will hurt. And it’ll be hard. Just like being in love. Just like you mentioned in another post of yours. WHY do you make me become even deeper? I need to be less introverted and brooding.
They call me Deeptron 4000.
Translate! The world needs more of it! With every verse wrought, the pale of fear is moved just a little further back. Come together, gather up the tools; let’s rebuild this tower.