Искусствоед
Ingeborg Bachmann
Anrufung des großen Bären
Die blaue Stunde
Der alte Mann sagt : mein Engel, wie du willst,
wenn du nur den offenen Abend stillst
und an meinem Arm eine Weile gehst,
den Wahlspruch verlorener Linden verstehst,
die Lampen, gedunsen, betreten im Blau,
letzte Gesichter! Nur deins glänzt genau.
Tot die Bücher, entspannt die Pole der Welt,
was die dunkle Flut noch zusammenhält,
die Spange in deinem Haar scheidet aus.
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Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Invocation of the Great Bear
The Blue Hour
The old man says: my angel, as you will,
if only you nursed the empty evening so still,
when, with you upon my arm, together we go,
sharing the linden's secret, which only you know,
and streetlamps bloating, embarrassed in the blue,
the day's last faces! while only yours shines through.
The books shut, dead, the world free of its axis,
what holds the flood of dark in place still is
your hair's bright comb, till it as well falls out.
Without delay then, a draft puffs through my house,
a moon's low whistle — then on open tracks the churn
into love that, dragged from memory, at last returns.
The young man asks: you'll always love me most of all?
Swear it by the shadows upon my bedroom wall,
and should the linden's whisper be dark and true,
recite it with blossoms, and let your hair loose —
its pulse of night that so badly wants to spill!
Then a signal from the moon and the wind falls still.
In evening's blue light, the lamps seem intimate,
till space breaks through, its hours indeterminate,
as with soft nibbling lips your own mouth turns
to seek my own, until with pain you learn:
what wins the world is still a living word,
one played and already lost, before love is stirred.
The girl is silent until the spindle spins.
Coins* fall from the sky. The time of roses ends.
You men, just pass the sword into my hand
and Joan of Arc will save the fatherland.
People, we'll sail the ship through icy floes,
for I know the course to take that no one knows.
Buy anemones! Three wishes to a bundle;
with every wish you breathe, they close each petal.
As from the circus tent's trapeze I swoop,
I spring clear through the world's own flaming hoop,
surrendering myself to the hands of my partner,
who gives me, like a gentleman, the evening star.
transl. by Peter Filkins
* Sterntaler - is a little girl in a Grimm fairy tale by the same name. Having given away her bread, shoes, and dress to others more needy, she becomes rich when she collects the stars falling out of the sky in her slip. "Sterntaler" is also the name of 19-th century German coin.
Anrufung des großen Bären
Die blaue Stunde
Der alte Mann sagt : mein Engel, wie du willst,
wenn du nur den offenen Abend stillst
und an meinem Arm eine Weile gehst,
den Wahlspruch verlorener Linden verstehst,
die Lampen, gedunsen, betreten im Blau,
letzte Gesichter! Nur deins glänzt genau.
Tot die Bücher, entspannt die Pole der Welt,
was die dunkle Flut noch zusammenhält,
die Spange in deinem Haar scheidet aus.
читать дальше
Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Invocation of the Great Bear
The Blue Hour
The old man says: my angel, as you will,
if only you nursed the empty evening so still,
when, with you upon my arm, together we go,
sharing the linden's secret, which only you know,
and streetlamps bloating, embarrassed in the blue,
the day's last faces! while only yours shines through.
The books shut, dead, the world free of its axis,
what holds the flood of dark in place still is
your hair's bright comb, till it as well falls out.
Without delay then, a draft puffs through my house,
a moon's low whistle — then on open tracks the churn
into love that, dragged from memory, at last returns.
The young man asks: you'll always love me most of all?
Swear it by the shadows upon my bedroom wall,
and should the linden's whisper be dark and true,
recite it with blossoms, and let your hair loose —
its pulse of night that so badly wants to spill!
Then a signal from the moon and the wind falls still.
In evening's blue light, the lamps seem intimate,
till space breaks through, its hours indeterminate,
as with soft nibbling lips your own mouth turns
to seek my own, until with pain you learn:
what wins the world is still a living word,
one played and already lost, before love is stirred.
The girl is silent until the spindle spins.
Coins* fall from the sky. The time of roses ends.
You men, just pass the sword into my hand
and Joan of Arc will save the fatherland.
People, we'll sail the ship through icy floes,
for I know the course to take that no one knows.
Buy anemones! Three wishes to a bundle;
with every wish you breathe, they close each petal.
As from the circus tent's trapeze I swoop,
I spring clear through the world's own flaming hoop,
surrendering myself to the hands of my partner,
who gives me, like a gentleman, the evening star.
transl. by Peter Filkins
* Sterntaler - is a little girl in a Grimm fairy tale by the same name. Having given away her bread, shoes, and dress to others more needy, she becomes rich when she collects the stars falling out of the sky in her slip. "Sterntaler" is also the name of 19-th century German coin.