I don't want to hear another song ...

Seni düşünmek güzel şey,
                     ümitli şey, 
dünyanın en güzel sesinden en güzel şarkıyı dinlemek gibi bir şey. 
Fakat artık ümit yetmiyor bana,
ben artık şarkı dinlemek değil,
                   şarkı söylemek istiyorum.

[30 Eylül 1945]

*

Thinking of you is something beautiful,
                              something hopeful,
like hearing the most beautiful song from the most beautiful voice in the world.
But hope isn't enough for me anymore,
I don't want to hear another song,
                               I want to sing...

[30 September 1945]

*

An dich zu denken, ist etwas Schönes,
                    etwas Hoffnungsvolles,
als hörte man das schönste Lied der schönsten Stimme der Welt.
Aber die Hoffnung reicht mir nicht mehr,
ich will kein Lied mehr hören,
                             ich will singen...

*

Pensar en tu és quelcom bonic,
          quelcom esperançador,
com escoltar la cançó més bonica de la veu més bonica del món.
Però l'esperança ja no és suficient per a mi,
no vull escoltar cap altra cançó,
                                 vull cantar... 

Nâzım Hikmet (17 January 1902 – 3 June 1963) 

Joan Maragall: The blinded cow

As so often happens,
I spontaneously opened this new book
to 'a random' page and... read this poem several times.
Pages 36/37: La vaca sega / Die erblindete Kuh.

Beers & Books (433) – Joan Maragall: Poems

Another bilingual treasure.

Joan Maragall (10 October 1860 – 20 December 1911)

Beers & Books (432) – Book of Absences

Buch der Abwesenheiten
& Die schönen Wege
*
Llibre d'absències
& Els bells camins

Miquel Martí i Pol (19 March 1929 – 11 November 2003)

Her Voice His Eyes

On the other side I had seen a little girl,
her right hand holding a man's left,
leading him towards the night,
her voice being his eyes.
The sun is red, she said, and soon
she will dive into the glistening sea.

Having eyes only for the man at her side

she had not taken notice of me,

and still I felt like an intruder.

Suddenly I sensed myself walking away,

and only the sun could see

my eyes burning with sorrow and joy.

Could you see through walls,
there's a girl holding a man's hand
her voice being his eyes.
© 2009 Sean Jeating

He says it for me

Escric per viure.
O bé al revés, tal volta:
visc per escriure. 

 Miquel Martí i Pol

I write for living.
Or vice versa, this time:
I live for writing. 

Saturday night poetry: Joan Maragall

For my Català-speaking friends and visitors.
To spare you lengthy passages in German, I have listed below when poems by Maragall can be heard, recited in Catalan by Jaume Villalba, in German by Àxel Sanjosé.
• 05:16 – 08:12
• 24:27 – 27:20
• 34:10 – 35:38
• 41:45 – 43:39
• 50:58 – 54:41
• 58:39 – 1:02:04
• 1:12:52 – 1:15:52 

May you enjoy. 

 

Joan Maragall (10 October 1860 – 20 December 1911)

Friday is Skyday

Soon I shall be dead.
Even without warmongers.
She takes all easy.

***
Morirem tots
no cal tinguin pressa
a eliminar-nos.
(Carme)

***
Si no és avui
serà qualsevol dia.
Llarga l'espera.
(Paula)

***
És al capvespre
que esperar ja no et cansa.
Has posat anys.
(Helena)

 

 

 

 

 

Beers & Books (416) – Parlavà Suite and others

Suite de Parlavà
seguit de
Algú que espera
&
Llibre de les solituds

Miquel Martí i Pol  (19 March 1929 – 11 November 2003)

Beers & Books (410) Parlavà Suite & others

Suite de Parlavà (1991)
&
Algú que espera (1990)
&
Llibre de les solituds (1997)

 
Miquel Martí i Pol  (19 March 1929 – 11 November 2003)*

 * It looks as if non of Martí i Pol's work has yet been translated into English.

„Sieh da! Sieh da, Timotheus, Die Kraniche des Ibykus!“

This morning at nine
hundreds of cranes passed Seanhenge.
Winter's coming. Late.

Nine years ago this happened
but still is unforgotten.

 

To my sister

 Forough Farrokhzad (29.12.1934 - 13.02.1967)

Sister, rise up after your freedom,
why are you quiet?
rise up because henceforth
you have to imbibe the blood of tyrannical men.

Seek your rights, Sister,
from those who keep you weak,
from those whose myriad tricks and schemes
keep you seated in a corner of the house.

How long will you be the object of pleasure
In the harem of men's lust?
how long will you bow your proud head at his feet
like a benighted servant?

How long for the sake of a morsel of bread,
will you keep becoming an aged haji's temporary wife,
seeing second and third rival wives.
oppression and cruelty, my sister, for how long?

This angry moan of yours
must surly become a clamorous scream.
you must tear apart this heavy bond
so that your life might be free.

Rise up and uproot the roots of oppression.
give comfort to your bleeding heart.
for the sake of your freedom, strive
to change the law, rise up.

Forough Farrokhzad (29.12.1934 - 13.02.1967)

Beers & Books (409) – Dear Marta & Haikus ...

Estimada Marta
&
Haikús en temps de guerra

Miquel Martí i Pol  (19 March 1929 – 11 November 2003)

Splendid Eyesolation

Diving deep
into the ocean of thoughts.
Scars of life.

Beat the drum, Heinrich!*

I have never seen an ass
who talked like a human being,
but I have met many human beings
who talked like asses.

Heinrich Heine (13 December 1797 – 17 February 1856)

* Heine's Doctrine

Beers & Books (405) – Sylvia Plath: Love Poems

Love Poems

Sylvia Plath (27 October 1932 – 11 February 1963) 

Monochrome Monday

Oh god, there was the morning light
as Dafydd ap Gwilym would whisper. Perhaps. ;-)

Beers & Books (396) – Goethe 275

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832)

When I try to imagine the time of the original creation of those 20,000 pages of my thin-print complete edition, I suddenly think of some Flemish painters. Should be possible that Privy Councillor Goethe, who today would celebrate his 275th birthday, had some industrious penmen write for him? ;-)
The following may seem casual, but seriously:
The man spends 25 years of his life as political advisor, minister, theater director, “rides” in times of small statehood for one and a half years by horse-drawn stage coach to and through “Bella Italia”, and – not to forget the one or other amorous adventure that also takes up this and that hour – finds time by candlelight with quill and inkwell to write such an enormous oeuvre?
Chapeau!
Happy birthday, Wolfi! ;-)

Coffee time with Seamus Heaney

The Redress of Poetry

 
Seamus Heaney (13 April 1939 – 30 August 2013)

Two things are certain

Two things are certain:
Humanity will vanish.
Nature will prevail.