My Heart, my Lion

Mein Herz, mein Löwe

Mein Herz, mein Löwe
Mein Herz, mein Löwe, hält seine Beute fest, Sein Geliebtes fest in den Fängen, Aber Gehaßtes gibt es auch, Das er niemals entläßt Bis zum letzten Hauch, Was immer die Jahre verhängen. Es gibt Namen, die beflecken Die Lippen, die sie nennen, Die Erde mag sie nicht decken, Die Flamme mag sie nicht brennen. Der Engel, gesandt, den Verbrecher Mit der Gnade von Gott zu betauen. Wendet sich ab voll Grauen Und wird zum zischenden Rächer. Und hätte Gott selbst so viel Huld, Zu waschen die blutrote Schuld, Bis der Schandfleck verblaßte, - Mein Herz wird hassen, was es haßte, Mein Herz hält fest seine Beute, Daß keiner dran künstle und deute, Daß kein Lügner schminke das Böse, Verfluchtes vom Fluche löse.
My Heart, my Lion
My heart, my lion, grasps its prey, The loved, relentlessly. But there is, too, the hated, That shall not slip away Till the last breath is bated, Come what the years decree. Some names are of the midden, Defile the lips that name, Cannot in earth be hidden, Cannot be burnt in flame. The angel, sent to wash The wrongdoer with God's grace, In horror turns his face, Wields the avenging lash. If God in mercy willed To wash the blood-red guilt Till stain of shame abated, My heart hates yet the hated, My heart holds fast its prey, That none may palter or gainsay, No liar gild the worst, Nor lift the curse from the accursed.
From 'Autumn Fire' [Herbstfeuer] published by Poetry Salzburg

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

Seventy-Six Trombones

Seventy-Six Trombones

Seventy-Six Trombones
Seventy-six trombones led the big parade, With a hundred & ten cornets close at hand. They were followed by rows and rows, Of the finest virtuosos, The cream of every famous band. Seventy-six trombones caught the morning sun, With a hundred & ten cornets right behind. There were over a thousand reeds, Srpinging up like weeds, There were horns of every shape & kind. There were copper bottom timpani in horse platoons, Thundering, thundering, all along the way. Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons, Each bassoon having its big, fat say. There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery, Thundering, thundering, louder than before. Clarinets of every size, And trumpets who'd improvise A full octave higher than the score! Seventy-six trombones hit the counterpoint, While a hundred and ten cornets blazed away. To the rhythm of Harch! Harch! Harch! All the kids began to march, And they're marching still right today!
Seventy-Six Trombones
sex sonat et decies septem quae turba tubarum! ~~pompa decem et centum cornua iuncta tenet. agminibus densis gnarissima turma secuta est, ~~Amphion, Orpheus, plurimus ipse Linus. sex iubar et decies septem rubefecit Eoum; ~~ecce decem et centum cornua pone tubis! mille instant calami, loliis simulata caterva, ~~buccina cum lituis, cornua, concha, tubae. tympana tunc equitum resonabant aere profundo, ~~quo tonitru resonans omne tonabat iter. fistula – iam duplicata rudent euphonia! - opimo ~ sermones duplicat gutture quaeque suos. quina decem tormenta, tonantia fulmina belli, ~~raucius augebant, raucius usque sonos; maxima vel maior, minor atque minuta cicuta; ~~classica conatu bis quater Icario; sex dant et decies septem contraria chordae; ~~vi flant undecies cornua dena melos. vadere cum pueris cunctae coepere puellae, ~vadere praesenti queis placet usque die!
My translation into Latin

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

At Christmastide

In Weihnachtszeiten

In Weihnachtszeiten
In Weihnachtszeiten reis' ich gern Und bin dem Kinderjubel fern Und geh' in Wald und Schnee allein. Und manchmal, doch nicht jedes Jahr, Trifft meine gute Stunde ein, Daß ich von allem, was da war, Auf einen Augenblick gesunde Und irgendwo im Wald für eine Stunde Der Kindheit Duft erfühle tief im Sinn Und wieder Knabe bin…
At Christmastide
At Christmastide I like to go Far from all childish merriment And seek alone the woods and snow. And sometimes, though not every year, I meet my hour of sweet content, And suddenly I'm healed and well, Freed of whatever things there were, And in the woodland for a spell Childhood comes wafting to my brain And I’m a little boy again.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

Binsey Poplars

Binsey Poplars

Gerard Manley Hopkins

The poplars were felled in 1879. My Latin..
Binsey Poplars
My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank. O if we but knew what we do When we delve or hew — Hack and rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being só slender, That, like this sleek and seeing ball But a prick will make no eye at all, Where we, even where we mean To mend her we end her, When we hew or delve: After-comers cannot guess the beauty been. Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve Strokes of havoc unselve The sweet especial scene, Rural scene, a rural scene, Sweet especial rural scene. [Campaigning against a housing estate that would have scarred the view of Highgate from Hampstead Heath, I wrote: 'Witan, the ancient council. Hurst, a wooded hill. Not since the Binsey Poplars, those Hopkins-harrowing topplers, Fell or were felled by the fiend of eld that wishes old England ill, And the trains stopped stopping at Adlestrop, and at Grantchester time stood still, Has anything worse been heard in verse, including, if you will, The nefarious, unhilarious, Dissolution of Halnaker Mill.' ...]
Binsey Poplars
o quantum amatae vos mihi populi! Titana textis frondibus obrui ~~vidi refrenarique in auris; ~~~~praecipites cecidistis omnes, haud una sospes caede trucissima. intactus ordo duplicis agminis ~~occisus, umbrosis puellas ~~~~vel pueros recreare alutis gnarus, per agros, flumina, flamina, ventos vagantes, litora, harundines ~~per prata procurvas, per undas ~~~~nantibus his, aliis caducis. o stirps molesti nescia criminis, prompta ad fodendum, scindere promptior! ~~~torquemus increscens, virescens ~~~~ dilaniamus, in omne damnum. rus tenue tactu, rus tenerum ambitu! levis videndi fixus acu globus: ~~ instanter, heu! non est ocellus. ~~~~sic etiam reparare nisi pala et securi, deruimus modo saltus amoenos : nesciet advena ~~quantum venustatis fuisset: ~~~~undecimus decimusve tantum stragi sat ictus: conficit eripit prospectum agrestem, gaudia rustica ~~dejecta: prospectum placentem ~~~~destruit egregium, placentem.
Classical Verse Challenge for April 2024.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins...

DO RE MI

DO RE MI

English by Oscar Hammerstein II from 'The Sound of Music'. Latin by me.
DO RE MI
Let's start at the very beginning A very good place to start When you read, you begin with A-B-C When you sing, you begin with Do-Re-Mi Do, a deer, a female deer Re, a drop of golden sun Mi, a name, I call myself Fa, a long, long way to run So, a needle pulling thread La, a note to follow So Ti, a drink with jam and bread That will bring us back to Do. When you know the notes to sing You can sing most anything.
DO RE MI
incipiamus in incepto: valet optima origo. ~~alpha et beta legis, mox quoque gamma notas. imus cerva gradus, muliebris bestia, chordis; ~~aureolo sequitur guttula sole, iubar. tum mihi me nomen, quo me revocante vocabor; ~~currere fas longe, cui via longa, procul. dein sutoris acus, trahitur cum sutile filum; ~~excipiens caecus proximus instat acum. dein thea adest, pani coctis cum fructibus apta; ~~cerva iterum inventa conficiemus iter. tempore quo disces septem discrimina vocum, ~~omnia quam sollers carmina paene canes!
in pratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drnBMAEA3AM in stratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLm07s8fnzM

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

La casita que hizo Conchita

This is the House that Jack Built

Anon

Spanish words by Timothy Adès
This is the House that Jack Built
This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the farmer sowing the corn, That kept the cock that crowed in the morn. That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
La casita que hizo Conchita
Esta casita la hizo Conchita. Esta es la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Esta es la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Este es el gallo que canta temprano, despierta a aquel cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita. Hay un granjero quien siembra buen grano quien cuida aquel gallo que canta temprano, despierta a aquel cura rapado quien casa a aquel hombre rasgado quien besa a la chica funesta lechera a la vaca con cuerna chafada que lanza a la perra que pica a la gata que mata a la atroz ratoncita que almuerza la malta surtida en la dicha casita que hizo Conchita.
A popular English nursery rhyme, more background on Wikipedia

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Pearls of the dew

D’Pirlen vum Tau

Anon

Luxemburg Folk Song
D’Pirlen vum Tau
D’Pirlen vum Tau Das sind dein Diamanten D’Blumen im Feld Das sind dein Hochzaitskleid D’Nachtigallenchor Das sind dein Musikanten An dein treit Herz Ist mein Glickseligkeit.
Pearls of the dew
Pearls of the dew They are your diamonds Flowers of the field They are your wedding dress Nightingale choir They are your musicians In your true heart Is all my happiness.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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The Excellent Wessex Event (When She Wedded Me)

Timothy Adès

‘The Excellent Wessex Event’ is based on the 1967 Film ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’ and a Betjeman Heroine. Winner of the Flamingofeather Long Poem Prize, 2013, it was published in Long Poem Magazine, 2014, with an Apparatus Criticus. “… a breathtaking, single–vowelled tour de force: ‘She fells these three fellers, Ms B. Everdene. / Terence weds her, then flees; she tells Peter: “Wed me!” ’ ” — Greg Freeman in Write Out Loud “Timothy Adès’ ‘The Excellent Wessex Event’ uses the Oulipo univocal lipogram omitting a, i, o and u to produce a narrative poem in rhyming couplets drawing upon the film version of Hardy’s Far From The Madding Crowd. This one-hundred-line sequence comes with a set of multi–language footnotes all with the same impediment.” — David Caddy's blog, Tears in the Fence

Introduction to ‘The Excellent Wessex Event’

This univocalic lipogram won an, um, won a Flamingo–Quill (that’s almost right) award, six months, no, many months ago. It honours two icons of British womanhood, drawing on Thomas Hardy’s book Far From A Madding Crowd, or strictly on a film of that book which was famous in my youth, and on a suburban mini–saga of sport and courtship by an illustrious Old Marlburian, which harks back to my boyhood, south of London. What is a lipogram? It’s a form of writing popular with a Gallic group known as Oulipo, that is to say ‘Writing Possibility Workshop’, although ‘lipo–’ may go back to Plato’s old word for ‘omit’ … not, I might add, to his similar word for ‘fat’. A lipogram is all about having a constraint, such as omitting a basic unit (or two) from a particular composition. If you look at this paragraph, you won’t find any omission of A, I, O or U. An accompanying apparatus criticus informs of variants found in manuscripts, or thought up by scholars, and will cast light on any occasional obscurity. I did classics as a schoolboy, and sat through any amount of this kind of thing. If at any point you can’t follow my non–local lingo, why not look for a translation on my www.
The Excellent Wessex Event (When She Wedded Me)
(N.B. PRECEDENCE: THE PEER EXEMPTED) We exempt the respected Ned Wessex, the peer: He needn’t feel he’d be the reference here. Well, he weren’t yet preferred, when these verses were penned! Ex Egbert the Elder, three brethren descend. HERSELF MS B. EVERDENE, MS B. EVERDENE, Deep–zested, tweed–chested, the Western sweet–teen! Her best speed exceeded the fleet leveret; Her feet were the slenderest, tenderest yet. Wessex! Wells, Mells, the Cheverells, the Kennet, the Test; There’s Tess Debrett–Deference, there’s Jed the Repressed; The beech–trees’ green excellence shelters the sheep; Beetles nestle, well–fed; replete trenchermen sleep. Let the fevered seethe elsewhere. Remember the scene? She fells these three fellers, Ms B. Everdene. Terence weds her, then flees; she tells Peter: ‘Wed me!’ Peter’s pellet fells Tel; she weds Zebedee Tree. Let the reckless recede: Wessex needn’t be pestered. Well, her sheep swelled, blenched, sweltered; her bell–wethers festered; Her ewes needed helpmeets, the sweet shepherdess! Bergère légère, sévère détresse. They freed the pent breezes, they gentled her sheep, Re–fettled the helpless, defenceless Belle–Peep. They helped her mend fences, keep bees, sell her fleeces, Brew beers, wrestle steers, breed red setters, press cheeses. She entered her jennet, she swept three events: She wrecked, she sternwheelered the three–decker fence. When she screen–tested, Elstree’s behests were exceeded: ‘Three cheers!’ Terence yelled: yet she’ll never be needed. (When she entered the Beckmesser Best Verse Event, ‘We deem ye’re the best’ wheezed the letter they sent. ‘These verses were excellent — best ever seen: Yet we need seven fewer — ye’ve sent seventeen!’). She revered the Berserkers, kept her épées well flexed: She peppered the mêlée, mere nerds were de–sexed! When she vented her spleen, the events were extreme…! She fenced well; she effected the deeds we esteem. She led her eleven (three sevens less ten): We felt her svelte vehemence, we keen Wessex men. She served — the bets lengthened — she swept the next set: ‘Twelve–twelve: even stevens! They’ll strengthen the net.’ Deep red were the tresses her green eyes reflected; Red–eyed, tremble–cheeked the wet men she’d rejected. She jested, she bested me, 17–3! Strength, speed, perfect deftness, Ms Everdene B. MR EVERDENE (he’s her begetter: he engendered her.) Mr Everdene’s seedbeds: well–weeded, well–dressed! He’s served me the genever, fresh–peeled the zest. ‘Seven bells!’ bleeps the ether. The Beeb tells the News: Kew’s new helter–skelter. Pelé meets Henley crews. We’ve smelt, these few weeks, Mr Everdene’s herbs: We’ve spell–checked (he’s the expert!) Perec’s e–less French verbs. He’s helped her ‘self–reference,’ yet nevertheless Kept secret the preference she’ll never express. He ‘respects’ Bells Yew Green, he ‘prefers’ Peterlee, Where the tenement–dwellers resettled, felt free. ‘Remember’, he stressed, ‘the best verses extend, Yet resemble, the precedents better men penned.’ [Theme: ‘Greensleeves’] He’s the Verderers’ Verger, he re–elmed The Glebe, Re–nested the egret, re–crested the grebe. He re–elvered the Exe, when her nether emergence Went eel–less. ‘We need fresher, greener detergents!’ The week when dense kex–weed enfeebled the Trent, (Even newts were perplexed!) he’s the geezer they sent. He metered the elements, tested the presence, Tended reed–beds, dredged trenches, expelled the excrescence. He let eels beget elvers: they revelled, went legless! Wrens, tree–creepers, greylegs, he never left eggless. He preserved the West Erg, where the Ténéré tree Met her Meddler. Meseemed he’d preserve even Me. THE PLEDGE [Sennet.] The Evercreech Levée! Green–belted her dress; Sheer–selvedged, her neckleted red–freckledness. We went there; the fenderless Edsel relented; She seemed pre–selected, her cheeks smelled sweet–scented. Well–heeled Wessex vespers! The well–tempered keys! The nerveless resplendence! The strength next the knees! We’ll let Messrs Sleepeezee pre–test the bed, The pelmet, the tester, the sheets, WHEN WE WED! The deckle–edged letters, the speech, the set jest, The new, well–hedged nest–egg (she’s pledged me the nest!); The leek–green Welsh dresser, the cleverest shelves Where the bent Penney’s rejects re–centre themselves. The SwebCentre’s deep–freezer–chest sets the scene; Crested Berkertex bed–sheets, we’ll sleep strewn between. There’ll be Everest fenêtres: the bevel’s recessed: Le vent ne pénètre, when the lever’s depressed. HERE’S THE STEEPLE [Enter the celeste, etc. Sweet glees] Yestereven the Western defenders were here: St Keverne, St Erney, St Clether, St Cleer. We feel we’ve repented whenever we’ve erred; They’ll bless the deep bed, get the sentence deferred. Presents! Here’s The Red Desert, Steele, Sterne, Stephen Spender, Ted Dexter, Pete Seeger, The Creep, The Pretender. Let’s get the blend perfect! The Reverend, the bells! … Elder Dempster! Three Weeks! Bêches de Mer! The Seychelles! WE NEVER EXPECTED THE EVENT’S REPELLENT END… She SPEWED crème de menthe, MESSED her velveteen breeches, She DRENCHED her three nephews, prevented the speeches. Ms JEZEBEL Everdene’s never been wed: She’s rendered me REDELESS — the new ETHELRED! Yes, she wended, went west, she bereft me, defected, She schlepped, de–selected, she left me dejected, Yes, she expleted, reverted, depleted, DESERTED THE BED! She dwells where the Menderes enters the Med.

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Jack mit Jill

Categories
German

Timothy Ades: Jack mit Jill

Timothy Adès

Jack and Jill Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. Up Jack got, and home did trot, As fast as he could caper, He went to bed to mend his head, With vinegar and brown paper.
Jack mit Jill
ORIGINAL POEM Jack mit Jill stieg hoch und fiel, der Wasser holen wollte: sein Kopf war wund, und Schmerz entstund, als Jill herunterrollte. - Jack, steh auf, nach Hause lauf, getänzelt sollst du eilen, mit Essigschmier’ und Braunpapier im Bett den Kopf zu heilen!

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There's Plenty Left To Do...

Timothy Adès

It is not easy to survive nowadays - title of a poem by Xu Zhimo Ecopoem for Xu Zhimo Festival 2021
There's Plenty Left To Do...
First, flee from fossil fuels. – Cut coal, calamitous carbon-cooker, catastrophic. Go green: gladden Gaia. Grudge gas. Seek SUN: see society sunlit, sun-soaked, sun-sated. Send solar supply skyrocketing, A REAL RENEWAL OF FUEL ! Avoid airports and aeroplanes. Curb cars, take trains, be beautiful by bicycling. Stop stravaiging, stampeding. STAY STILL. Work with winds, wake with windmills, win water-wealth where wild waves wallow: tap the tideways, tame Tethys. Turn the tide! Reform rethink repair replace reduce retrench, REFUTE ; REFLECT ; RESPECT. Proclaim peace, piety, penitence, Philadelphia – Penn’s Pennsylvania principle, Brotherly Love. BUILD BROTHERHOOD! Halt hostilities, drop disputes, forge friendships, Teach techniques, exchange expertise, talk to translators, prepare poets, persuade politicians. Proscribe pandemics, prescribe panaceas. Install insulation insistently, invest in it, it’s inexpensive, intelligent. Imitate igloos! Whisk wealth wherever wealth’s wanted, whoosh water wherever, whenever, without waging war. Beef-binges burn Brazil. Eschew energy-expensive excesses exhausting Earth’s ecumenical ecology. Eat, eke, eclectically: stuff sensibly, sustainably. CRISIS! CHANGE COURSE! CAMBRIDGE * CHINA * CHANGE Change Asia Americas Africa Australia Europe Everywhere CHANGE NOW

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