Nikolaus Lenau:

Schilflieder

1. Drüben geht die Sonne scheiden

Drüben geht die Sonne scheiden,
Und der müde Tag entschlief.
Niederhangen hier die Weiden
In den Teich, so still, so tief.
Und ich muß mein Liebstes meiden:
Quill, o Träne, quill hervor!
Traurig säuseln hier die Weiden,
Und im Winde bebt das Rohr.
In mein stilles, tiefes Leiden
Strahlst du, Ferne! hell und mild,
Wie durch Binsen hier und Weiden
Strahlt des Abendsternes Bild.

Nikolaus Lenau:

Reed Poems

1. Yonder there the sun is leaving

Yonder there the sun is leaving
tired, day has gone to sleep.
Weeping willows, interweaving,
touch the pond, so still, so deep.
From my love I must be cleaving:
Flow, my tearsdrops, and Godspeed!
Sadly sounds the willows' heaving,
and to winds submits the reed.
In my deep and silent grieving,
distance, you shine mild from far,
as, through reeds and willows weaving,
brightly shines the evening star.

2. Trübe wird's, die Wolken jagen

Trübe wird's, die Wolken jagen,
Und der Regen niederbricht,
Und die lauten Winde klagen:
"Teich, wo ist dein Sternenlicht?"
Suchen den erlosch'nen Schimmer
Tief im aufgewühlten See.
Deine Liebe lächelt nimmer
Nieder in mein tiefes Weh.

2. Darkness falls, the clouds are flying

Darkness falls, the clouds are flying,
and the rains burst through the night,
and the winds are loudly crying:
'Pond, where is your starry light?'
as they seek extinguished glistening
deep down in the waters stirred.
Oh, my love's no longer listening
to my deeply hidden hurt.

3. Auf geheimem Waldespfade

Auf geheimem Waldespfade
Schleich' ich gern im Abendschein
An das öde Schilfgestade
Mädchen, und gedenke dein!
Wenn sich dann der Busch verdüstert,
Rauscht das Rohr geheimnisvoll,
Und es klaget, und es flüstert,
Daß ich weinen, weinen soll.
Und ich mein', ich höre wehen
Leise deiner Stimme Klang
Und im Weiher untergehen
Deinen lieblichen Gesang.

3. Hidden trails through forest's secrets

Hidden trails through forest's secrets
I shall walk in evening's hue
to the pond's deserted reed-beds,
Maiden, and shall think of you!
When the bushes start to darken,
magic sounds from reeds I hear
whispering and moaning: harken,
shed a tear, oh, shed a tear!
Seems I hear the breezes mating
softly with your voice so free
and in gentle waves abating
your enchanting melody.

4. Sonnenuntergang

Sonnenuntergang;
Schwarze Wolken zieh'n,
O wie schwül und bang
Alle Winde flieh'n!
Durch den Himmel wild
Jagen Blitze, bleich;
Ihr vergänglich Bild
Wandelt durch den Teich.
Wie gewitterklar
Mein' ich dich zu seh'n,
Und dein langes Haar
Frei im Sturme weh'n!

4. Down the sun disc goes

Down the sun disc goes,
darkling clouds appear,
oh, how stifling close
winds depart in fear.
Through the heavens fierce
drives the lightning's spear;
its reflections pierce
sauntering the mere.
Clear in thunder's flare
see your image flow,
and your lofty hair
in the tempest blow!

5. Auf dem Teich, dem regungslosen

Auf dem Teich, dem regungslosen,
Weilt des Mondes holder Glanz,
Flechtend seine bleichen Rosen
In des Schilfes grünen Kranz.
Hirsche wandeln dort am Hügel,
Blicken in die Nacht empor;
Manchmal regt sich das Geflügel
Träumerisch im tiefen Rohr.
Weinend muß mein Blick sich senken;
Durch die tiefste Seele geht
Mir ein süßes Deingedenken,
Wie ein stilles Nachtgebet!

5. On the pond's serene reposes

On the pond's serene reposes
lies the moon's resplendent gleam,
weaving rows of sallow roses
through the water's verdant seam.
O'er the hilltop elk are browsing,
gazing up the night for feed,
sometimes water fowl is rousing
dreamily inside the reed.
Full of tears my eye is blurring:
through my deepest inner sight
memories of you are stirring
like a prayer in the night.

Warum ich weiter oben keine Kommentare zu den Gedichten schrieb? Hubris hin, Hubris her: Für einen Deutschsprachigen braucht es meiner Kommentare nicht. Dafür sind Lenaus Gedichte viel zu schön, viel zu leicht verständlich, viel zu angenehm ins Ohr gehend. Von der Seele einmal ganz abgesehen.

Übersetzungen sind da schon etwas anderes. Da sind immer ein paar Entschuldigungen am Platz. Und ein paar Hinweise auf, sagen wir, des Dichters Schicksal, des Dichters Landschaft, des Dichters Epoche. [Obwohl in Übersetzungen (wie in den Gedichten selbst) der Beweis des Wertes immer noch in Schönheit, Wahrheit und weitreichender Zustimmung liegt. GottseiDank.]

Aber ich hätte in Englisch doch auch über die Donauauen geschrieben und wäre dabei wieder einmal vom Hundersten ins Tausende gekommen? Naja, nur des Schilfes wegen. Und weil mir die Donauauen halt so gut gefallen... Und sie können doch sowieso so gut Englisch...

Donauauen
(Lenauweg, Stockerau, Niederösterreich)

Nikolaus Lenau, 1802-1850
(Nikolaus Niembsch von Strehlenau)

You claim that my translation, even if cantabile, is woefully inadequate, and that the many settings of Lenau poems to music are much better sung in German? Oh, do I ever agree!

Why I translated the Schilflieder then? Because I have liked them since my highschool days. Because through translation I just might arouse somebody's interest in this major Austrian poet. Because Austrians like me - similar to Germans, I might add as a half-hearted excuse - do habitually harbor hubris. Not to mention the Weltschmerz that comes with it.

But, you ask, why do I call Lenau (recte: Nikolaus Franz Niembsch, Edler von Strehlenau) an Austrian poet? After all, he was born in Romania, was he not?

Well, yes, in what is now Romania. He was born in Lenauheim (Csatád) near Timisoara (Temesvar, Temeschburg). Timisoara was, inter alia and in that sequence, Turkish, Austrian, Austro-Hungarian and Hungarian before becoming Romanian. It was once nicknamed "Little Vienna" for its buildings from the Habsburg era and its once large population of German-speaking people. Get the picture?

By the way, Lenau spent a lot of time in and around "Little Vienna", but also in and around "big" Vienna. His grandfather was a high military official of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy in the town of Stockerau, Lower Austria, just a few miles up the Danube from Vienna proper. Lenau spent much time there as an adolescent. And Lenau died in Vienna (Ober-Döbling, 19th district) in an insane asylum, and is (now) interred on the Klosterneuburg-Weidling cemetery (just a few miles from Stockerau, but on the other side of the Danube).

What is this Danube Blues leading up to? Well, you see, Stockerau calls itself now "Lenaustadt" ("Lenau-City" in their translation). And they have a walking trail called "Lenauweg" (see picture on the opposite side), not to mention a Lenau Museum and quite a few other things Lenau. So far, so good.

That Lenauweg goes through what is called in German the "Au" (from the middle-high German "Aue" - well, since you ask: yes, indeed...). Now, an "Au" is the low-lying area that surrounds a river like the Danube, whose ubiquitous waters sustain it. It has big trees, meadows, ponds and swamps; it harbors all kinds of wildlife; and it is a very beautiful, very melancholy place. Like the one described in the poem No Name.

[By the way, that place (Albern) is not up but down the Danube from Vienna. And, from Vienna still further down, all the way to the Slowakian border, the "Au" surrounding the Danube has become a protected National Park ("Donauauen"). This followed a - peaceful and, thanks God, successful - uprising of the populace against the government of the day, then hell-bent on "developing" the area. But I digress.]

I shouldn't digress, I should just give you the bottom line? Oh, I thought you would have guessed it by now. It's all about the "Schilf", the reeds of the reed songs, plentiful in the Donauauen. Purportedly, Lenau got the idea - and, more importantly, the mood - for his poem cycle from the Au at Stockerau (and from an unsuccessful romance). Of course, Lenau's poetry has also strong ties to Hungarian (as well as Swabian) sentiments - and there also grow lots of reeds on lots of ponds in Hungary, so maybe...

Ah, yes, now we are getting somewhere, Weltschmerz and all. But you better get your own feel for that. How? Well, reading between the reeds might help...