________________________________________________
Title: Translation From Heine: Lyrisches Intermezzo
Author: George MacDonald [
More Titles by MacDonald]
XXXVIII.
The phantoms of times forgotten
Arise from out their grave,
And show me how once in thy presence
I lived the life it gave.
In the day I wandered dreaming,
Through the streets with unsteady foot;
The people looked at me in wonder,
I was so mournful and mute.
At night, then it was better,
For empty was the town;
I and my shadow together
Walked speechless up and down.
My way, with echoing footstep,
Over the bridge I took;
The moon broke out of the waters,
And gave me a meaning look.
I stopped before thy dwelling,
And gazed, and gazed again--
Stood staring up at thy window,
My heart was in such pain.
I know that thou from thy window
Didst often look downward--and
Sawest me, there in the moonlight,
A motionless pillar stand.
LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.
XLI.
I dreamt of the daughter of a king,
With white cheeks tear-bewetted;
We sat 'neath the lime tree's leavy ring,
In love's embraces netted.
"I would not have thy father's throne,
His crown or his golden sceptre;
I want my lovely princess alone--
From Fate that so long hath kept her."
"That cannot be," she said to me:
"I lie in the grave uncheerly;
And only at night I come to thee,
Because I love thee so dearly."
LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.
XLV.
In the sunny summer morning
Into the garden I come;
The flowers are whispering and talking,
But for me, I wander dumb.
The flowers are whispering and talking;
They pity my look so wan:
"Thou must not be cross with our sister,
Thou sorrowful, pale-faced man!"
LYRISCHES INTERMEZZO.
LXIV.
Night lay upon mine eyelids;
Upon my mouth lay lead;
With rigid brain and bosom,
I lay among the dead.
How long it was I know not
That sleep oblivion gave;
I wakened up, and, listening,
Heard a knocking at my grave.
"Tis time to rise up, Henry!
The eternal day draws on;
The dead are all arisen--
The eternal joy's begun."
"My love, I cannot raise me;
For I have lost my sight;
My eyes with bitter weeping
They are extinguished quite."
"From thy dear eyelids, Henry,
I'll kiss the night away;
Thou shalt behold the angels,
And Heaven's superb display."
"My love, I cannot raise me;
Still bleeds my bosom gored,
Where thou heart-deep didst stab me
With a keen-pointed word."
"Soft I will lay it, Henry,
My hand soft on thy heart;
And that will stop its bleeding
And soothe at once the smart."
"My love, I cannot raise me--
My head is bleeding too;
When thou wast stolen from me
I shot it through and through!"
"I with my tresses, Henry,
Will stop the fountain red;
Press back again the blood-stream,
And heal thy wounded head."
She begged so sweetly, dearly,
I could no more say no;
I tried, I strove to raise me,
And to my darling go.
Then the wounds again burst open;
With torrent force outbrake
From head and breast the blood-stream,
And, lo, I came awake!
[The end]
George MacDonald's poem: Translation From Heine: Lyrisches Intermezzo
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
