Prayer
Ángelos Sikelianós (1884-1951)
Γυμνὴ Σοῦ δέεται ἡ ψυχή. Ἀπὸ χαρά, ἀπὸ πόνο
γυμνή· ἀπὸ ἡδονὴ
γυμνὴ Σοῦ δέεται ἡ ψυχή, Δημιουργέ, μέ μόνο
τὴν ἂπλαστη φωνή,
πού, πρὶν στὴ σάρκα μου νά μπεῖ, στὸν κόρφο Σου–ὡς τζιτζίκι
κρυμμένο στὴν ἐλιὰ–
βουλὴ δικὴ Σου χτύπαε στὴν καρδιά μου, κ’ ἒλεε : «νίκη,
νίκη στὰ πάντα! », καὶ δὲν ἢτανε μιλιὰ
δική μου, ἦταν η δική σου, Θεέ. Μ’ ἐκείνη μόνο
Σοῦ δέομαι· λύτρωσέ μου τὸ σκοπὸ
τὸ μυστικὸ ποὺ γεύτηκα βαθιὰ κ’ ἒξω ἀπ’ τὸ χρόνο,
γιὰ ν’ αγαπῶ, γιὰ ν’ αγαπῶ
πάνω ἀπὸ πρόσωπα καί πλάσματα ἀπ’ τὸν ἓνα
ποὺ κλείνω μέσα μου παλμό,
ποὺ εἶν’ ἓνας πιὰ γιὰ ζωντανὰ καί πεθαμένα·
δῶσε μου, ναί, τὸ λυτρωμό,
τὸν ἂναρχο Ἒρωτα νὰ νιώσω ἀκέριο, Θέ μου,
μέσα στὰ στήθια μου ξανά·
καὶ να ‘μαι σ’ ὂλα σὰν ἡ πνοὴ καὶ σὰν ἡ βοὴ τ’ ἀνέμου,
στὰ κοντινά, στὰ μακρινά . . .
Prayer
Naked the soul entreats You. Of joy, of pain,
of pleasure naked,
naked the soul entreats You, Maker, with alone
the voice uncreated,
which lodged not yet in my flesh, but in Your breast,
as a cricket in olive-trees hides,
with ‘Victory, victory in all’ on my heart impressed
Your will, and it spoke no words
of mine, but Your words, God. With these alone
I ask You to vouchsafe
the secret goal I could taste beyond time, deep down:
that I may love, may love
beyond the faces and figments, beyond the lone
pulse kept within me close
that’s now all one for the living and those who are gone:
vouchsafe me this release,
to feel anew the Love-God, that had no birth,
Lord, in my heart entire,
and to be as is the wild wind’s sound and breath
to all that is far and near.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Ángelos Sikelianós...
iustus es, Omnipotens
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?
Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build — but not I build; no, but strain,
Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
iustus es, Omnipotens
iustus es, Omnipotens, si per discrimina tecum
contendam; tamen haec altera iusta loquar.
cur est pravorum via prospera? cur ego fallor
omnibus inceptis, spesque caduca perit?
num peius, si tu meus hostis, amice, fuisses,
laederer? et tantas ferre necesse moras?
florent, quos agitat vacua et vinosa libido;
sed mea languescit dedita vita tibi.
en ubi praetexta scandice et murride serta
frondibus et densis ripa rubusque virent,
egelidusque movet Zephyrus, texuntque volucres;
texit avis, sed mi deest avis instar opus:
nitor ego sterilis. radicibus implue, vitae
tu Domine, ut mea sit denique viva seges.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins...
New Year Prayer of the Rector of St Lambert’s, Münster
Neujahrsgebet des Pfarrers der Kirche von St. Lamberti in Münster
Hermann Kappen (1818-1901)
Neujahrsgebet des Pfarrers der Kirche von St. Lamberti in Münster
Herr, setze dem Überfluss Grenzen
und lasse die Grenzen überflüssig werden.
Lasse die Leute kein falsches Geld machen,
aber auch das Geld keine falschen Leute.
Nimm den Ehefrauen ihr letztes Wort
und erinnere die Ehemänner an ihr erstes.
Schenke unseren Freunden mehr Wahrheit
und der Wahrheit mehr Freunde.
Bessere solche Beamten, Geschäfts- und
Arbeitsleute, die wohl tätig, aber nicht
wohltätig sind.
Gib´ den Regierenden ein besseres Deutsch
und den Deutschen eine bessere Regierung.
Herr, sorge dafür, dass wir alle in den
Himmel kommen. Aber nicht sofort!
New Year Prayer of the Rector of St Lambert’s, Münster
Lord, set limits to abundance
and let the limits be redundant.
Let people make no bad money,
let money make no bad people.
Remove the wives’ last word,
remind the husbands of their first.
Grant our friends more truth,
grant the truth more friends.
Make all officials beneficial,
all business people better people;
make all who are active, productive.
Give our governors better German,
give Germans a better government.
Lord, see that we all go to heaven.
But not just yet!
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès
More poems by Hermann Kappen...