For the one

[twelveoone]

the only one

by
Friedrich Hölderlin

Home


And no one knows



Meanwhile let me roam
And pick wild berries
To quiet my love for you
Upon your paths, O Earth


Here where
..................and the thorns of roses
And sweet lindens cast their fragrance
Beside the beeches, at noon, when the pale rye
Rustles with the growth of slender stalks.
Their ears bowed to the side
Like autumn, but beneath the high
Vault of oaks, as I muse
And question the sky, the sound of bells
I know well
From afar rings golden at the hour
Of reawakening birds, So it goes.

Translated by
Richard Sieburth


The sentence structure and arrangement, very disorienting, very modern.

So it goes.

 

[ghost_girl]

hey 1201

good to see you around

I love that poem. I didnt find it disorienting except for the odd piece stuck out like an after thought, I really didnt know how to read that. But the rest is peaceful and filled with longing. I will look for more (of him) to read

 

[Bill Dada]

Go it so's.

 

[annaswirls]

Meanwhile let me roam
And pick wild berries
To quiet my love for you

I have come back to this poem several times, it is pure, lovely. This image, busying oneself in the meditation of picking berries in order to quiet love, to bring some order, some sense, is amazing. It might not seem to be anything special, something that yes, anyone could have said but it IS and that is the magic, the reading and the YES! I understand, I am you, if only I could be.

 

[twelveoone]

Friedrich Hölderlin

Mnemosyne


—Third version



The fruits are ripe, dipped in fire,
Cooked and sampled on earth. And there's a law,
That things crawl off in the manner of snakes,
Prophetically, dreaming on the hills of heaven.
And there is much that needs to be retained,
Like a load of wood on the shoulders.
But the pathways are dangerous.
The captured elements and ancient laws of earth
Run astray like horses. There is a constant yearning
For all that is unconfined. But much needs
To be retained. And loyalty is required.
Yet we mustn't look forwards or backwards.
We should let ourselves be cradled
As if on a boat rocking on a lake.

But what about things that we love?
We see sun shining on the ground, and the dry dust,
And at home the forests deep with shadows,
And smoke flowering from the rooftops,
Peacefully, near the ancient crowning towers.
These signs of daily life are good,
Even when by contrast something divine
Has injured the soul.
For snow sparkles on an alpine meadow,
Half-covered with green, signifying generosity
Of spirit in all situations, like flowers in May —
A wanderer walks up above on a high trail
And speaks irritably to a friend about a cross
He sees in the distance, set for someone
Who died on the path... what does it mean?

My Achilles
Died near a fig tree,
And Ajax lies in the caves of the sea
Near the streams of Skamandros —
Great Ajax died abroad
Following Salamis' inflexible customs,
A rushing sound at his temples —
But Patroclus died in the King's armor.
Many others died as well.
But Eleutherai, the city
Of Mnemosyne, once stood upon
Mount Kithaeron. Evening
Loosened her hair, after the god
Had removed his coat.
For the gods are displeased
If a person doesn't compose
And spare himself.
But one has to do it,
And grief is soon gone.

Translation by James Mitchell