international poetry & music recital - slu · international poetry & music recital...

International Poetry &Music Recital

Co-Sponsored by the Department of Modern& Classical Languages and the Department

of Music

April 12, 2007, 1- 3 PM

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Kevin Wenzel“La United Fruit Co.” by Pablo Neruda

(Spanish)

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)

Summary: The United Fruit Co. begins as aparodic praise of the almost natural manner inwhich the existence of exploitative multi-nationalcorporations are viewed, evoking images of thecreation of the world and the distribution of theland by God. Pablo Neruda uses the idea of fliesflying around mass graves of dead Indians like apile of rotten fruit to convey the despair and painthat these corporations bring while taking awaythe best qualities of the lands.

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)Friday, March 23rd, 2007 Chiquita Admits

to Paying Colombian ParamilitaryGroup on U.S. Terror List.The Cincinnati-based fruit company Chiquita has admittedto paying off the group United Self-Defense Forces ofColombia which is considered a terrorist organization bythe U.S. government. Chiquita has agreed to a $25 millionfine on the condition that it doesn't have to reveal thenames of the executives involved. Chiquita says it fellvictim to an extortion racket that threatened its employees.But Colombia's attorney general has said he will seek theextradition of eight Chiquita employees over what he calls"a criminal relationship."

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)Cuando sonó la trompeta, estuvo

todo preparado en la tierra

y Jehová repartió el mundo

a Coca-Cola Inc., Anaconda,

Ford Motors, y otras entidades:

la Compañía Frutera Inc.

se reservó lo más jugoso,

la costa central de mi tierra,

la dulce cintura de América.

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)bautizó de nuevo sus tierras

como “Repúblicas Bananas”,

y sobre los muertos dormidos,

sobre los héroes inquietos

que conquistaron la grandeza

la libertad y las banderas,

estableció la ópera bufa:

enajenó los albedríos,

regaló coronas de Cesar,

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)desenvainó la envidia, atrajola dictadura de las moscas,moscas Trujillo, moscas Tachos,moscas Carias, moscas Martínez,mosca Ubico, moscas húmedasde sangre humilde y mermelada,moscas borrachas que zumbansobre las tumbas populares,moscas de circo, sabias moscasentendidas en tiranía.

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)

Entre las moscas sanguinarias

la Frutera desembarca,

arrasando el café y las frutas

en sus barcos que deslizaron

como bandejas el tesoro

de nuestras tierras sumergidas.

Kevin Wenzel “La United Fruit Co.” byPablo Neruda (Spanish)Mientras tanto, por los abismos

azucarados de los puertos,

caían indios sepultados

en el vapor de la mañana:

un cuerpo rueda, una cosa

sin nombre, un número caído

un racimo de fruta muerta

derramada en el pudridero.

Elizabeth M. Sandheinrich“A Blooming Tree” by Xi Murong

(Chinese)

Elizabeth M. Sandheinrich “ABlooming Tree” by Xi Murong(Chinese)

Translation by Tana Gegen

How can I let you see me

When I am my most beautiful?

For that,

I prayed to Buddha for 500 years,

Begging Him to let us be together.


Buddha transformed me into a tree

Growing on the path that you must take.

Under the warm sun

I become blooming with flowers, each onemeticulously arranged,

Each flower thriving with my previous hope.


When you walk close to me,Please listen carefully,The rustling leaves convey my restless passion.When you finally walk away without noticing my

love,Everything collapses to the floor behind you.My friend,Those are not petalsBut pieces of my dying heart.

Elizabeth M. Sandheinrich “A BloomingTree” by Xi Murong (Chinese)

Translation by Tana Gegen

How can I let you see me

When I am my mostbeautiful?

For that,

I prayed to Buddha for 500years,

Begging Him to let us betogether.


Buddha transformed me intoa tree

Growing on the path that youmust take.

Under the warm sun

I become blooming withflowers, each onemeticulously arranged,

Each flower thriving with myprevious hope.


When you walk close to me,Please listen carefully,The rustling leaves convey my

restless passion.When you finally walk away

without noticing my love,Everything collapses to the floor

behind you.My friend,Those are not petalsBut pieces of my dying heart.

Andrew Putt“Sonaron tres golpes” by Emilio Prados

(Spanish)

Andrew Putt “Sonaron tres golpes” byEmilio Prados (Spanish)

Summary: Emilio Prados is a Spanish poet of theso called Generation of 27. As many poets ofhis generation he was politically involved in thefight against the fascist forces of FranciscoFranco in favor of a free republic. This poem hasas a historical context the repression of the mineworkers of the region of Asturias in Spain in1934. It is simple in structure: a four line chorusor refrain and six syllable verses in thetraditional “romance” form. The poem alludesto the capturing of a mine worker in the early …


… morning hours. The atmosphere is filled withshadows that anticipate his tragic ending. Thethree knocks on the door (Tan / tan / tan) serve asa premonition of the gunshots of the miner’sexecution. The gunshots echo throughout theentire town and remind everyone of the impendingdoom they all fear. All elements in nature, themoon, the wind, the water, the dogs weep for theworker. In the end there is only silence indicatingthe end of the battle which the republic lost.


Sonaron tres golpesjunto a mi ventana.Sonaron tres golpesallá en la montaña.

Tan. Tan. Tan. Tres golpes.Los perros aullaban.


El viento gemía,sollozaba el agua;sobre el cielo negrola luna se alzaba.

Tan. Tan. Tan. Tres golpesen la madrugada.


Cruzaron tres sombras

bajo mi ventana.

Tres sombras más negras

que sus negras almas.


Tan. Tan. Tan. Tres sombras

en la madrugada.

Ni el viento gemía,

ni lloraba el agua.


Tan. Tan. Tan. Tres sombras.

Los perros aullaban.

Hoy sólo el silencio

rueda por mi casa.

Mary E. Logue“Sail” by Mikhail Lermontov 1832 (18

years old) (Russian)

Mary E. Logue “Sail” by MikhailLermontov 1832 (18 years old) (Russian)

A lonely sail is flashing white

Amidst the blue mist of the sea! …

What does it seek in foreign lands?

What did it leave behind at home? …


Waves heave, wind whistles,

The mast, it bends and creaks …

Alas, it seeks not happiness

Nor happiness does it escape!


Below, a current azure bright,

Above, a golden ray of sun …

Rebellious, it seeks out a storm

As if in storms it could find peace!


A lonely sail is flashing white

Amidst the blue mist of the sea! …

What does it seek in foreign lands?

What did it leave behind at home? …


Waves heave, wind whistles,

The mast, it bends and creaks …

Alas, it seeks not happiness

Nor happiness does it escape!


Below, a current azure bright,

Above, a golden ray of sun …

Rebellious, it seeks out a storm

As if in storms it could find peace!

Ben Trager“La verdad” by Vicente Aleixandre

(Spanish)

Ben Trager “La verdad” by VicenteAleixandre (Spanish)

Summary: “La Verdad” is a poem thatexplores a past lost, and the realization thatit can never be attained in the exact manneragain. Aleixandre claims that although hecan feel and experience what he once did, itis not the same; he can only experiencethem through memories. The passions heonce had have destroyed themselves.


¿Qué sonríe en la sombra sin muros queensordece

mi corazón? ¿Qué soledad levanta

sus torturados brazos sin luna y grita herida

a la noche? ¿Quién canta sordamente en lasramas?


Pájaros no: memoria de pájaros. Sois eco,

sólo eco, pluma vil, turbia escoria, muerta materiasorda

aquí en mis manos. Besar una ceniza

no es besar el amor. Morder una seca rama

no es poner estos labios brillantes sobre un seno

cuya turgencia tibia dé lumbre a estos marfiles

rutilantes. ¡El sol, el sol deslumbra!


Separar un vestido crujiente, resto inútil

de una ciudad. Poner desnudo

el manantial, el cuerpo luminoso, fluyente,

donde sentir la vida ferviente entro los ramos

tropicales, quemantes, que un ecuadorempuja.


Bebed, bebed la rota pasión de un mediodía

que en el cenit revienta sus luces y os abrasa

volcadamente entero, y os funde. ¡Muertehermosa vital,

ascua del día! ¡Selva virgen que en llamas tedestruyes!

Rebekah Matlock“Anspruch” by Volker Braun

(German)

Rebekah Matlock “Anspruch” by VolkerBraun (German)

Summary: Volker Braun (1939- ) is one of the mostimportant post WWII German writers. Living in EastGermany, he participated in the socialist movement andthe political awakening in the former East block countries.He remained loyal to socialist ideals, and through hispoetry he encourages his readers to find a new, self-propelled life and embrace a new beginning. In otherwords, we are the "sea of our expectations," and we have ahand in creating our own future. His method of carefullyanalyzing the past in order to understand the happenings ofthe present (archaeology of the present) gives his readers areason to question the status quo and to think forthemselves.


Kommt uns nicht mit Fertigem. Wir brauchenHalbfabrikate.

Weg mit dem Rehbraten—her mit dem Wald unddem Messer.

Don’t come to us with things finished. We need half-made pieces.

Out with the roast venison—in with the forest andthe knife.


Hier herrscht das Experiment und keine steifeRoutine.

Hier schreit eure Wünsche aus: Empfang beimLeben.

Here experiment reigns and not a fixed routine.

Here scream out your wishes: let life provide!


Zwischen die Kontinente, zu allen Ufern

Spannt seine Muskeln das Meer unsererErwartungen

An alle Küsten trommeln seine Finger die Brandung

Between continents, toward every shore

The sea of our expectations stretches its muscles

On every coast its finger drum the surf


Über die Uferklinge läßt es die Woge springen undaufschlagen

Immer erneut hält es die Flut hoch und gibt es sieauf.

Over the shore’s knife edge it makes waves jump anbreak

Over and over it raises the flood waters p andabandons them.


Für uns sind die Rezepte nicht ausgeschrieben, meinHerr.

Das Leben ist kein Bilderbuch mehr, Mister, undkeine peinliche Partitur, Fräulein.

Hier wird ab sofort Denken verlangt.

For us the prescriptions were not spelled out, sir.

Life is no longer a picture book, mister, nor apainstaking musical score, miss.

From now on thinking is demanded here.


Raus aus den Sesseln, Jungs.Feldbett—meinetwegen.

Nicht so feierlich, Genossen, das Denken willheitere Stirnen.

Up out of the easy charis, boys, Campcots—for all Icare.

Don’t be so solemn, comrades, thinking needscheerful brows.


Wer sehnt sich hier nach wilhelminischemSchulterputz?

Unsere Schultern tragen einen Himmel voll Sternen.

Who here longs for Wilhelminian should insignias?

Our shoulders bear a sky full of stars.


Hier wird Neuland gegraben und Neuhimmelangeschnitten—

Hier ist der Staat für Anfänger, Halbfabrikat aufLebenszeit.

Here new land is dug and new skies cut—

Here is a state for beginners, half-made and for life.


Hier schreit eure Wünsche aus: an alle Ufer

Trommelt die Flut eurer Erwartungen!

Here scream out your wishes: toward every shore

drum

The flood of your expectations.


Was da an deine Waden knallt, Mensch, die tosendeBrandung:

Das sind unsere kleinen Finger, die schießen nurBißchen Zukunft vor, Spielerei.

What bangs against your calves, man, the ragingsurf:

That’s our little fingers, they shoot out just

A little future, child’s play.

Music: Nocturne de Salon, Allegro, byFerdinando Carulli

Performed by Tyler Siddens and SpencerBrown

Christina Nystrom“En tierras de Polonia” by Grupo de losReskatados de los Kampos de Alemania

aka Koro Saloniko(Ladino)

Christina Nystrom “En tierras dePolonia” by Grupo de los Reskatados delos Kampos de Alemania (Ladino)

Summary: This poem is about a prisoner inAuschwitz concentration camp preparingfor their impending death in the flames ofthe ovens. The prisoner is also attemptingto reconcile his/her destiny which can onlybe death.


Arvoles yoran por luvias

I muntanias por ayre

Ansi yoran los mis ojos

Por ti kerida madre

Ansi yoran los mis ojos

Por ti kerida madre


Torno i digo ke va ser de mi

En tierras de Polonia

Me tengo ke murir


Blanka sos blanka vistes

Blanka es la tu figura

Blankas flores kayen de ti

De la tu ermozura


Torno i digo ke va ser de mi

En tierras de Polonia

Me tengo ke murir

Benno Kohler“Der Gott der Stadt” by Georg Heym

(German)

Benno Kohler “Der Gott der Stadt” byGeorg Heym (German)

Summary: A classic example of Germanexpressionist poetry, Georg Heym’s “The God ofthe City” defies synopsis. Although traditional instructure (stanza form, metrics, and rhymescheme), this poem is anything but traditional incontent. Written in 1911, Heym’s poem paints anexpressionistic picture of city life by contrastingan industrial urban landscape with the relativeloneliness of life in the surrounding countryside.There is a mythic element to this poem as the godof the city sits atop a block of houses …


… overlooking church bells surging up in wavesfrom a sea of black towers. The air is filled withthe smoke clouds of factories while a roaringmusic of the masses rises up from below wheretraffic winds its way through city streets in afrenzied corybantic dance. As evening isanaesthetized into night, the god of the city shakeshis fist in the darkness. A sea of fire races througha street, devouring it until the morning dawns late.


Auf einem Häuserblocke sitzt er breit.Die Winde lagern schwarz um seine Stirn.Er schaut voll Wut, wo fern in EinsamkeitDie letzten Häuser in das Land verirrn.

Vom Abend glänzt der rote Bauch dem Baal,Die großen Städte knieen um ihn her.Der Kirchenglocken ungeheure ZahlWogt auf zu ihm aus schwarzer Türme Meer.


Wie Korybanten-Tanz dröhnt die MusikDer Millionen durch die Straßen laut.Der Schlote Rauch, die Wolken der FabrikZiehn auf zu ihm, wie Dunst von Weihrauch blaut.

Das Wetter schwält in seinen Augenbrauen.Der dunkle Abend wird in Nacht betäubt.Die Stürme flattern, die wie Geier schauenVon seinem Haupthaar, das im Zorne sträubt.


Er steckt in Dunkel seine Fleischerfaust.

Er schüttelt sie. Ein Meer von Feuer jagt

Durch eine Straße. Und der Glutqualm braust

Und frißt sie auf, bis spät der Morgen tagt.

Kelly Bienhoff“La llanura azul” by Manuel Altolaguirre

(Spanish)

Kelly Bienhoff “La llanura azul” byManuel Altolaguirre (Spanish)

Commentary and summary: Manuel Altolaguirreis one of the youngest poets of the Generation of‘27 and his poetry reflects a search for harmony inthe universe and prominent themes include love,solitude, the passage of time, and a preoccupationwith death. La llanura azul presents a reflectionon the heavens and identifies the sky as a symbolof the elevation of the human spirit. Although theburden of the earth weighs heavy on the narrator’smind, he remains buoyant due to the beauty andhope the expansive sky offers.


No bajo montes de tierrasino que escalo simas de aire.Lo más hondo del barrancoes cumbre de estos cristales.

¡Cuánto me pesa la oscurafirme tierra impenetrable!Rozando duras tinieblasvoy pisando claridades.


No veo las ramas hundidas,enterradas, de los árboles,sino las verdes raícesairosas, primaverales.

Ángeles y nubes jueganen la azul llanura grande.Desde estas hondas alturasmiro los azules valles.


No bajo montes de tierra

sino que escalo simas de aire.

Brendan Kotenstette“Jerusalem” by Nizar Qabbani

(Arabic)

Brendan Kotenstette “Jerusalem” byNizar Qabbani (Arabic)

Synopsis: Jerusalem, the "City of Three Faiths" isa powerful symbol in both spirit and tradition forpeople the world over. Yet through the years, andeven today, Al-Quds has been a city of manysorrows. In the Islamic and Christian traditions ofjustice and peace, Nazir Qibbani calls us back tothe memory of his beloved city of "peace andolive branches."

Brendan Kotenstette “Jerusalem” byNizar Qabbani (Arabic)

Nika !etek“Ve"er nad gradom Firenze” by

Dragutin Tadijanovi#(Croatian)

Nika !etek “Ve"er nad gradom Firenze”by Dragutin Tadijanovi# (Croatian)

About the author:

Dragutin Tadijanovic is one of the most famousand influential contemporary Croatian poets. He isalso the longest living Croatian poet - he is 102years old. He was born in Rastu!je, a small villagewhich he has a strong connection to and whichoften appears in his poetry, as is the case with“Ve"er nad gradom Firenze” (“An Evening overthe City of Florence”).


Summary: In this poem, the poetic voice iswatching the lights of Florence reflecting in theArno, which was his dream as a child growing upin Rastu!je. He thinks about his mother andsisters, who are left alone in the old family house,and who live from their labor. This brings him tothinking about the hands of Michelangelo, whosework “Dawn” he saw earlier in the day. The poeticvoice expresses disbelief that those hands, thatcreated such beauty, could not exist any longer. …


… His thoughts then run back to his fields.Not knowing who is taking care of hismother’s hands makes his heart cry. Thepoem ends with the poetic voice calming hisheart down with a sort of lullaby, sayingthat the lights of Florence should not makeit melancholic, because they will also be putout by a hand, just like everything else.

Music: Concerto in D, Allegro, by GeorgTelemann

Performed by Tyler Siddens, Spencer Brown,James Grogan, and William Croghan

Intermission

10 minutes

International Poetry &Music Recital

Co-Sponsored by the Department of Modern &Classical Languages and the Department of Music

April 12, 2007, 1- 3 PM

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Intermission

Music: Bolinhas de Queijo and Motivo

Barroco by Celso Machado

Performed by Patrick Reed and James Grogan

Victor Cancino“Qué alegría, vivir” by Pedro Salinas

(Spanish)

Victor Cancino “Qué alegría, vivir” byPedro Salinas (Spanish)

Summary: This poem by Pedro Salinas states the simplejoy of living life with or through another person. Thepoet’s joy is seeing the world through another’s eye, hisown voice is in another’s thoughts, and he is free to liveand love because his “other-self” is never suspicious of hisinner nature. The last verse reminds us that not havinganother person through whose eyes we can see the worldand experience life is like being dead. Living means beingconnected intimately to another being.


Qué alegría, vivirsintiéndose vivido.Rendirsea la gran certidumbre, oscuramente,de que otro ser, fuera de mí, muy lejos,me está viviendo.Que cuando los espejos, los espías,azogues, almas cortas, aseguranque estoy aquí, yo, inmóvil,


con los ojos cerrados y los labios,negándome al amorde la luz, de la flor y de los nombres,la verdad trasvisible es que caminosin mis pasos, con otros,allá lejos, y allíestoy besando flores, luces, hablo.Que hay otro ser por el que miro el mundoporque me está queriendo con sus ojos.


Que hay otra voz con la que digo cosasno sospechadas por mi gran silencio;y es que también me quiere con su voz.La vida —¡qué transporte ya!—, ignoranciade lo que son mis actos, que ella hace,en que ella vive, doble, suya y mía.Y cuando ella me hablede un cielo oscuro, de un paisaje blanco,recordaréestrellas que no vi, que ella miraba,y nieve que nevaba allá en su cielo.


Con la extraña delicia de acordarsede haber tocado lo que no toquésino con esas manos que no alcanzoa coger con las mías, tan distantes.Y todo enajenado podrá el cuerpodescansar quieto, muerto ya. Morirseen la alta confianzade que este vivir mío no era sólomi vivir: era el nuestro. Y que me viveotro ser por detrás de la no muerte.

Nosov Vasilii“Winter Morning” by A.S. Pushkin

(Russian)

Nosov Vasilii “Winter Morning” by A.S.Pushkin (Russian)

Cold frost and sunshine: day of wonder!But you, my friend, are still in slumber-Wake up, my beauty, time belies:You dormant eyes, I beg you, broadenToward the northerly Aurora,As though a northern star arise!


Recall last night, the snow was whirling,Across the sky, the haze was twirling,The moon, as though a pale dye,Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.And there you sat, immersed in doubts,And now, - just take a look outside:


The snow below the bluish skies,Like a majestic carpet lies,And in the light of day it shimmers.The woods are dusky. Through the frostThe greenish fir-trees are exposed;And under ice, a river glitters.


The room is lit with amber light.And bursting, popping in delightHot stove still rattles in a fray.While it is nice to hear its clatter,Perhaps, we should command to saddleA fervent mare into the sleight?


And sliding on the morning snowDear friend, we'll let our worries go,And with the zealous mare we'll flee.We'll visit empty ranges, thence,The woods, which used to be so denseAnd then the shore, so dear to me.

David Kenney“Echados adientro del fuego” by Avner

Perets(Ladino)

David Kenney “Echados adientro delfuego” by Avner Perets (Ladino)

Summary: Avner Perets is a sixth generationIsraeli who was born in Jerusalem in the year1942. His poem, “Echados adientro del fuego,” isdedicated specifically to the Sephardic Jews ofSalonika that died throughout the holocaust. Priorto WWII, there were approximately sixty-thousand Sephardic Jews living in Salonikarepresenting one of the largest Sephardiccivilizations of the time. …


… As a result of their persecution onlythree-thousand of the original sixty-thousand survived. Although brief in length,“Echados adientro del fuego” is powerfuland moving. Its use of a condescendingnature represents the degrading manner inwhich the Jews were treated throughout theholocaust and the Nazi goal of silencing theJewish culture.


Echados adientro

de un forno

de fuego ensnendido.

Ken es el Dio

ke vos eskapara

del fuego ensendido?

Cast into

an oven

of catching fire.

Who is the God

that will save you

from the catching fire?


Ansiano de dias—

Vuestro Dio ke servitesh

en siglos de oro,

en siglos de eskuridad—

no vos eskapara

del fuego ensendido.

Ancient of Days—

Your god whom youserved

in centuries of gold,

in centuries of darkness

will not save you

from the catching fire.


Malahe a-sharet abashan

de los altos sielos

A akompanyar kon alasarankadas

los kuerpos destruidos

i entregarsen kon eyos

al fuego kemante.

The Malahe a-sharetdescend

from the heavens aboveto accompany with their

rent wingsthe destroyed bodiesand to deliver themselves

with theminto the burning fire.


I el ansiano de dias

kedara kayado.

And the Ancient of Days

will remain silent.

Miles DeCoster“An die Musik” by Rainer Maria Rilke

(German)

Miles DeCoster “An die Musik” byRainer Maria Rilke (German)

Summary: Written in Munich during WorldWar I, Rainer Maria Rilke's "To Music" is ameditation on the creative and spiritualnature of music, exploring his concept of artas necessarily separate from self. Music, the"language where language ends", he writes,is the innermost stranger, rising above theego in "holy departure", only in the distancebecoming pure.


Musik: Atem derStatuen. Vielleicht:

Stille der Bilder. DuSprache wo Sprachen

enden. Du Zeit,

die senkrecht steht aufder Richtungvergehender Herzen.

Music. The breathing ofstatues. Perhaps:

The silence ofpictures.You,language where all

languages end. You, time

standing straight up outof the direction

of hearts passing on.


Gefühle zu wem? O du derGefühle

Wandlung in was? -: inhörbare Landschaft.

Du Fremde: Musik. Du unsentwachsener

Herzraum. Innigstes unser,das, uns übersteigend,

hinausdrängt, -heiliger Abschied:

Feeling, for whom? O thetransformation

of feeling into what?— intoaudible landscape.

Music: you stranger. Passionwhich

has outgrown us. Ourinner most being,

transcending, driven out ofus,—

holiest of departures:


da uns das Innre umsteht

als geübteste Ferne, alsandre

Seite der Luft:

rein,

riesig,

nicht mehr bewohnbar.

inner worlds now

the most practiced of

distances, as

the other side of thin air:

pure,

immense

no longer habitable.

Music: Duet, Op. 55, No. 1, by FernandoSor

Performed by William Croghan and PatrickReed

Vanda Botco Vinesiu“Trecut-au anii…” by Mihai Eminescu

(Romanian)

Vanda Botco Vinesiu “Trecut-au anii…”by Mihai Eminescu (Romanian)About the author: Mihai Eminescu has always beenconsidered the greatest and most representative Romanianpoet. He was influenced by Arthur Schopenhauer and hiswork has been translated in more than 60 languages overthe years. Eminescu strongly influenced the Romanianculture therefore his work has been studied in high schoolsall around the country. Some of his most famous poemsare: "Luceafarul" (The morning star), "Doina" (traditionalRomanian song), "Floare Albastra” (Blue Flower), "Sarape deal” (Evening on the hill), and others.

Vanda Botco Vinesiu “Trecut-au anii…”by Mihai Eminescu (Romanian)Summary: "Years have trailed past…" is a poemabout the passing of time. The poet complainsabout the fast passing of time and about the pastyears that he lost and will never again be able toexperience. He feels a change in himself, he isgetting older and his young years have becomenow just a sweet memory. One of the main wordsin this poem is "the clock" which places moreemphasis on the idea of time. The poem ends in apessimistic note about the little time he has left.

Vanda Botco Vinesiu “Trecut-au anii…”by Mihai Eminescu (Romanian)

Trecut-au anii ca nori lungi pe "esuri#i niciodat$ n-or s$ vie iar$,C$ci nu m$-ncânt$ azi cum m$ mi"car$Pove"ti "i doine, ghicitori, eresuri,


Ce fruntea-mi de copil o-nseninar$,Abia-n%elese, pline de-n%elesuri -Cu-a tale umbre azi în van m$-mpesuri,O, ceas al tainei, asfin%it de sar$.


S$ smulg un sunet din trecutul vie%ii,S$ fac, o, suflet, ca din nou s$ tremuriCu mâna mea în van pe lir$ lunec;

Pierdut e totu-n zarea tinere%ii#i mut$-i gura dulce-a altor vremuri,Iar timpul cre"te-n urma mea... m$-ntunec!

Stefanie Hausheer“Fratelli” da L’allegria - Il porto Sepolto

by Giuseppe Ungaretti(Italian)

Stefanie Hausheer “Fratelli” daL’allegria - Il porto Sepolto by GiuseppeUngaretti (Italian)

The following poem by GiuseppeUngaretti is one of the most solidexamples of hermetic poetry("Ermetismo") of the early 20th century.Ungaretti was a young man when hefought in World War I. This is a poemabout brotherhood, common ground,overcoming differences, and the tragedy ofwar.


“Fratelli”Di che reggimento siete

fratelli?

Parola tremantenella notte

Foglia appena nata

“Brothers”What regiment d'you

belong to brothers?

Word shakingin the night

Leaf barely born


Nell'aria spasimante

involontaria rivolta

dell'uomo presente alla sua

Fragilità

Fratelli

Mariano, il 15 luglio 1916

In the simmering air

involuntary revolt

of the man present at his own

Brittleness

Brothers

Mariano, 15-Jul-1916

John F. Kornfeld“Die Schlesischen Weber”

by Heinrich Heine(German)

John F. Kornfeld “Die SchlesischenWeber” by Heinrich Heine (German)

Summary: Heine’s well-known poem wasinfluenced by the political climate of the times,specifically weavers’ uprisings in Silesia duringthe summer of 1844. The weavers in Heine’spoem are stoic figures who sit at the loomweaving a funeral shroud for Germany, and intothe fabric of the shroud they weave a threefoldcurse: a curse on God for mocking the weaversand leaving them hungry and cold; …


a curse on the king who ignored theirsuffering and allowed them to be shotdown like dogs; and a curse on the falsefatherland where only insult, outrage, andshame flourish. Each of the poem’s fivestanzas concludes with the refrain “Weweave, we weave!”


Im düstern Auge keine Träne,

Sie sitzen am Webstuhl und fletschen dieZähne:

Deutschland, wir weben dein Leichentuch,

Wir weben hinein den dreifachen Fluch -

Wir weben, wir weben!


Ein Fluch dem Gotte, zu dem wir gebeten

In Winterskälte und Hungersnöten;

Wir haben vergebens gehofft und geharrt,

Er hat uns geäfft und gefoppt und genarrt -



Ein Fluch dem König, dem König derReichen,

Den unser Elend nicht konnte erweichen,

Der den letzten Groschen von uns erpreßt

Und uns wie die Hunde erschießen läßt -



Ein Fluch dem falschen Vaterlande,

Wo nur gedeihen Schmach und Schande,

Wo jede Blume früh geknickt,

Wo Fäulnis und Moder den Wurm erquickt -



Das Schiffchen fliegt, der Webstuhl kracht,

Wir weben emsig Tag und Nacht -

Altdeutschland, wir weben deinLeichentuch,

Wir weben hinein den dreifachen Fluch,Wir weben, wir weben!

Aicha Aoujil“Word from Life” by Aicha Aoujil

(Amazigh (Berber))

Aicha Aoujil “Word from Life” byAicha Aoujil (Amazigh (Berber))

Introduction to the Amazigh world:

The Berbers (calling themselves Amazigh - "freehumans" or "free men" and “noble” in the Berberlanguage) have inhabited Africa north of theSahara desert since ancient Egyptian times(5000BC). The name "Berber" originates withthe Romans, who followed the Greek custom ofdesignating speakers of unintelligible languagesas "barbarians". …


The Berber language is known as "Berber"to Europeans and as ”Shilha” to Arabs,while the Berbers themselves call theirlanguage Tamazight (the "gh" in the wordsTamazight and Amazigh is pronounced asa sharp "r"). The language has a largenumber of dialects, due to the widegeographical separation of differentBerber-speaking groups. …


Tamazight has only 3 vowels - a, i, u. Thisparsimony, vowel-wise, is amplycompensated by a generous number ofconsonants - 38 consonants in all calledTifinagh.

http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=194215


Summary: In this poem the sun, the moon andthe flower are all natural elements created for thehuman’s own benefits. At first looking at thesun, one can fall in love with its power. Bylooking at the moon, one easily can be attractedto it. And, by looking at a flower one can becharmed by its beauty. Many things in life aretaken for granted. The same thing happens withhuman relations. …


At first meeting a person, one may beattracted by superficial elements such asthe physical appearance of that person.However, what the observer does notrealize is that those superficial qualitieswill fade in time and that the only thingthat has a chance to last is the relationshipdeveloped between people.


“Word from Life”

Ghalgh isid tafouyte tawhane

Zigh abrid ness ishaqqa

Ghalgh isid ayour ihla

Zigh tamouynte ness tchaqqa

Ghalgh isid aldgigue igougi

Zigh tismawine nesschaqqane.


Magh alli iberdane waarane?

Magh alli tayri tga taghdarte?

Magh alli bnadem ishaqqa?

Magh alli ourntagga afoussegoufousse?

Nmoune stafouyte

Nmoune dayoure

Ankdou Aldgigue


Bla anouguade lhar ntafouyte

Bla anouguade lghdarenayour

Bla anouguade Iqsnouldgigue

D’awtinou anmàawanenarnou

Ayna ishaqqane.

Music: Cuban Landscape with Rain, byLeo Brouwer

Performed by Patrick Reed, James Grogan,Tyler Siddens, and Spencer Brown

Agata Szramel“Romans” by Boleslaw Le$mian

(Polish)

Agata Szramel “Romans” by BoleslawLe$mian (Polish)

Summary: The poem “Romans” by BoleslawLe&mian is about two beggars who fell in lovewith each other at a street corner. They wereboth hungry for food and for love. The onlything that they could offer to one another waslove and enough bread to keep them both alive.The poetic voice, who observed the two beggarson the corner of the street, began to understandthe meaning of life: feed your heart with passionand your stomach with food.


Romans &piewam, bo &piewan! Bo jestem&peiwakiem!

Ona by'a (ebraczka, a on (ebrakiem.

Pokochali si) nagle na rogu ulicy

I nie bylo ubozszej w miescie tajemnicy…


Nasta'a noc majowa, gwia*dzi&cie weso'a,

Siedli- rami) z ramieniem- na stopniachko&cio'a.

Ona mu podawa'a z wyrazem skupienia

To usta do pieszchoty, to- chleb dogryzienia.


I tak &niac, przegryzali pod majowym niebemNa przemian chleb- pieszczota, a pieszczot)- chlebem

Dwa g'ody sycili pod opieka wiosny:Jeden g'+d- ten (ebraczy, a drugi- milosny.

Poeta, co ich widzia', zgad', jak (yc trzeba?Ma dwa g'ody, lecz brak mu- dziewczyny i chleba.

Jean Dempsey“Chanson d’automne” by Paul Verlaine

(French)

Jean Dempsey “Chanson d’automne” byPaul Verlaine (French)

Summary: This poem describes the monotony of the present,nostalgia for bygone days, and a feeling of listlessness forthe future. The monotony of the present is conveyed in thefirst stanza when Verlaine likens violin music to long,languorous sobs that wound his heart. The second stanzaexpresses nostalgia for the past as Verlaine describes howeach passing hour reminds him of days gone by, causing himto cry. Finally, in the third stanza he describes how the windblows him here and there, like a dead leaf. This suggests afeeling of apathy for the future.


Les sanglots longs

Des violons

De l'automne

Blessent mon cœur

D'une langueur

Monotone.


Tout suffocant

Et blême, quand

Sonne l'heure,

Je me souviens

Des jours anciens

Et je pleure,


Et je m'en vais

Au vent mauvais

Qui m'emporte

Deçà, delà,

Pareil à la

Feuille morte.

Jean Dempsey“Le Pont Mirabeau”

by Guillaume Apollinaire(French)

Jean Dempsey “Le Pont Mirabeau” byGuillaume Apollinaire (French)

Summary: This poem describes how transitory love is.Apollinaire uses the Seine as a symbol for love, which likethe water in the river flows away and never returns. Theimage of the flowing water is emphasized by the repetitionof the refrain, in which he describes how he remainsunchanged as night and day come and go. All of this givesthe poem a cyclical quality. The narrator, like the Mirabeaubridge, stays the same as the days turn to night and as love,like the water in the river, comes and goes.


Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine

Et nos amours

Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne

La joie venait toujours après la peine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure

Les jours s'en vont je demeure


Les mains dans les mains restons face à face

Tandis que sous

Le pont de nos bras passé

Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse




L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante

L'amour s'en va

Comme la vie est lente

Et comme l'Espérance est violente




Passent les jours et passent les semaines

Ni temps passé

Ni les amours reviennent

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine



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