one leaf of laurel for: Christian Morgenstern (1871-1914)

Ich riß des Herzens Furchen auf,

da säten Wind und Sonnenschein

ihr Korn hinein:

da schoß es auf

aus rotem Grund

und wuchs mit zuckendem Purpurmund

zum Licht hinauf.

I ploughed the furrows of my heart,

when came the wind and sunshine bright,

their seed to sow;

and shoots would start

from that red soil

with purple quivering lips to grow

up to the light.

(from Melencolia, published 1906)

Christian Morgenstern was born in Munich with a romantic landscape painting grandfather and a musical mother, who, alas, died when Christian was only 10. He spent a peaceful, sentimental, impecunious life, striving to understand the world in general, labouring under the illness he had inherited from his mother - tuberculosis, then incurable - which made doctors send him to places in Italy and Switzerland, where the air was more pure than in Berlin or Hamburg. In one of those places he got to know a really wonderful young woman called Margareta, who kept him the most loving company imaginable for the last six years of his life. Always having been a rather mystic guy, he became one of Rudolf Steiner's (you know, anthroposophy) earliest disciples, before he died in Meran at the age of 43. His last words are said to have been "This cough is four-dimensional."

Morgenstern is chiefly known in German speaking countries for his Galgenlieder, a collection of grotesque poems mostly having to do with the gallows. Fewer readers are familiar with the love, deep insight into nature and tinge of mysticism that marks the rest - nearly the whole! - of his poetry. One of his greatest achievements, by the way, was his translation of all Henrik Ibsen's then available works into German. He undertook that job without knowing a word of Norwegian before he started, and Ibsen, who could read German very well, was genuinely pleased and moved when he read the results. Though other versions are available by now, Morgenstern's extremely poetical rendering of Peer Gynt is still the standard text for stage productions hereabouts.

(More aboutMorgenstern in German, but there are translations of his poems here, even one in Norwegian)

Jeg er det dikt

Inger Hagerup

Jeg er det dikt som ingen skrev.
Jeg er det alltid brente brev.

Jeg er den ubetrådte sti
og tonen uten melodi.

Jeg er det stumme leppes bønn.
Jeg er en ufødt kvinnes sønn,

en streng som ingen hånd has spent,
et bål som aldri er blitt tent.

Vekk meg! Forløs meg! Løft meg opp
av jord og berg, av ånd og kropp!

Men intet svarer når jeg ber.
Jeg er de ting som aldri skjer.


Ich bin der Vers, den keiner schrieb.
Ich bin der längst verbrannte Brief.

Ich bin der unbeschrittne Weg,
der Ton, den keine Weise trägt.

Ich bin Gebet aus stummem Mund.
Ich, unfruchtbaren Weibes Kind,

ein Strick, von keiner Hand gespannt,
ein Feuer, niemals angebrannt.

Laßt los! Verjagt mich! Setzt mich frei
von Berg und Erde, Feld und Hain!

Doch nichts erwidert, wenn ich schrie.
Ich bin ein Ding, das nie geschieht.


(another)

Du ska tacka

(Karin Boye)

Du ska tacka dina gudar,
om de tvingar dig att gå
där du inga fotspår
har att lita på.

Du ska tacka dina gudar,
om de gör all skam till din.
Du får söka tillflykt
lite längre in.

Det som hela världen dömer
reder sig ibland rätt väl.
Fågelfri var mången,
vann sin egen själ.

Den som tvingas ut i vildskog
ser med nyfödd syn på allt,
och han smakar tacksam
livets bröd och salt.

Du ska tacka dina gudar,
när de bryter bort ditt skal.
Verklighet och kärna
blir ditt enda val.


Du sollst deinen Göttern danken,
wenn sie dich auf Wege zwingen,
wo keine Fußtapfen sind,
die dich weiterbringen.

Du sollst deinen Göttern danken,
wenn sie dich mit Schmach umwinden;
mußt deine Zuflucht ein wenig
weiter innen finden.

Das, was alle Welt verdammt,
steht oft seinen Mann.
Vogelfrei war mancher,
der seine Seele gewann.

Mit neuen Sinnen sieht alles,
wen's zwingt in Tiefen des Walds,
und er schmeckt mit Dankbarkeit
des Lebens Brot und Salz.

Du sollst deinen Göttern danken,
wenn sie dich aus Hüllen schälen.
Die Wirklichkeit, und der Kern -
sonst bleibt dir nichts zu wählen.

(one of aasa's favourite poems :-)

how cute of them :-)

in the zoo of Overloon (netherlands) there are a few couples of gay and lesbo storks who brood on other storks' eggs and raise little storklings.
really sweet of them, i think :-)

when you are lovesick, what do you do?

you read a scientific article about it.

doesn't make it any better, but is bound to give you a few laughs.

introducing: our national animal

been to carustan yet? if you have, you know that our national animal is the platypus, which frolics freely in the country's lush forests, enjoying its privileges as a protected species.
you may ask, why the platypus? because they are CUTE! i've always loved them... played with little platypuses (the kind that's made of plush) when i was 4 or 5 years old, and never stopped loving them.

and by the way, you might just drop in at nationstates and create your own nation too, plus animal.

and no, i'm living in austria, not australia :-P

gospel :-)

i'm sure he did :-)

She Walks In Beauty

George Gordon Noel 6th Lord of Byron (1788-1824) (pronounce "Byron" to rhyme with "iron")


She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!


In Schönheit schreitet sie, wie Nacht
dunstlosen Landstrichs, sternendicht;
von Hell und Dunkel alle Pracht
vereint ihr Gang und Augenlicht,
zu sanftem Leuchten reif gemacht -
der bunte Tag kennt solches nicht.

Ein Licht gelöscht, ein Schwarz vermehrt,
halb schlüg's der Anmut Macht entzwei,
die Rabensträhnen weich verklärt
und auf dem Antlitz schimmert frei,
wo Denken heiter-süß uns lehrt,
wie rein, wie lieb sein Wohnort sei.

Und Stirn und Wangen, nimmer müd,
so lind, so ruhig beredt umgibt
Lächeln, das einnimmt, Rot, das glüht
und sagt, was Gutes sie geübt:
ein Geist, den Niederes nicht müht,
ein Herz, das voller Unschuld liebt.

latest news :-)

we are pleased to hear that yesterday vienna's resident pandas, mrs. Yang Yang and mr. Long Hui, who have been living at the zoo of Schönbrunn for a few years now, have had sex for the first time. it is hoped that they are going to make a little panda. a little panda! how cute :-)