wind – Energy and Time

Sonnets To Orpheus II, 12

Wolle die Wandlung. O sei die Flamme begeistert,
drin sich ein Ding dir entzieht, das mit Verwandlungen prunkt;
jener entwerfende Geist, welcher das Irdische meistert,
liebt in dem Schwung der Figur nichts wie den wendenden Punkt.

Was sich ins Bleiben verschließt, schon ists das Erstarrte;
wähnt es sich sicher im Schutz des unscheinbaren Grau's?
Warte, ein Härtestes warnt aus der Ferne das Harte.
Wehe-: abwesender Hammer holt aus!

Wer sich als Quelle ergießt, den erkennt die Erkennung;
und sie führt ihn entzückt durch das heiter Geschaffne,
das mit Anfang oft schließt und mit Ende beginnt.

Jeder glückliche Raum ist Kind oder Enkel von Trennung,
den die staunend durchgehn. Und die verwandelte Daphne
will, seit sie lorbeern fühlt, daß du dich wandelst in Wind.

Want transformation. Oh, take inspiration from the flame,
wherein something escapes from you, which flaunts its very burning;
that architecting spirit which has mastered the mundane,
loves in the swirl of symbol best of all the point of turning.

What stays shut up inside itself, already is solidified;
does it dream it's safe in the shelter of inconspicuous grays?
Wait, from far away a Hardest warns the hard and petrified.
Alas - an absent hammer is upraised!

He who pours out like a spring is realized by Realization;
it leads him on in rapture through ebullient creation,
that often ends with starting and with ending oft begins.

Every happy space is child or grandchild of separation,
through which they pass amazed. And Daphne, after transformation,
wants, since she feels laurel, that you turn yourself to wind.

Translation notes:

lines 13-14: “Daphne … lorbeern”: Robert M. Durling, in his notes to a Petrarch sonnet (Rime sparse #5), observes “Daphne, daughter of the river god Peneus in Thessaly, was pursued by Apollo. She prayed to her father to preserve her virginity, and when Apollo caught up with her she was transformed into a laurel. Apollo adopted the tree as his own and crowned himself with a wreath from it. (Ovid, Metamorphoses l.452-567)”. The theme of Daphne occurs many times in Petrarch, perhaps since his beloved’s name (Laura) was related to laurel. All the Sonnets to Orpheus are “Petrarchean” in a loose sense, being divided 4-4-3-3, as opposed to the Shakespearean or English sonnet form divided 4-4-4-2; Rilke must have read some Petrarch at some time. Also, in Latin laurel is “laurus” and is thought to derive from the verb “laudare”, to praise. Praise is a recurring theme throughout these sonnets, starting with the end of I,6 leading into the praise-centered I,7.

Sonnets To Orpheus II, 9

Rühmt euch, ihr Richtenden, nicht der entbehrlichen Folter
und daß das Eisen nicht länger an Hälsen sperrt.
Keins ist gesteigert, kein Herz-, weil ein gewollter
Krampf der Milde euch zarter verzerrt.

Was es durch Zeiten bekam, das schenkt das Schafott
wieder zurück, wie Kinder ihr Spielzeug vom vorig
alten Geburtstag. Ins reine, ins hohe, ins torig
offene Herz träte er anders, der Gott

wirklicher Milde. Er käme gewaltig und griffe
strahlender um sich, wie Göttliche sind.
Mehr als ein Wind für die großen gesicherten Schiffe.

Weniger nicht, als die heimliche leise Gewahrung,
die uns im Innern schweigend gewinnt
wie ein still spielendes Kind aus unendlicher Paarung.

Don't be proud, you judges, of the unused racks
or that irons are no longer locked around necks.
Since your conscious fits of mercy just aren't
that much of a stretch, they uplift no heart.

The gallows gives back again what it receives
over time, like children their toys from previous
birthdays. In the pure, in the high, in the wide
open heart he'd tread differently, the god

of real mercy. He'd come mightily and wrapped
in radiance, as if deified.
More than a wind for the great secure ships.

Not less than the secret faint admitting
that silently wins us over inside
like a quiet playing child from infinite mating.

Sonnets To Orpheus II, 1

Atmen, du unsichtbares Gedicht!
Immerfort um das eigne
Sein rein eingetauschter Weltraum. Gegenwicht,
in dem ich mich rhythmisch ereigne.

Einzige Welle, deren
allmähliches Meer ich bin;
sparsamstes du von allen möglichen Meeren, -
Raumgewinn.

Wie viele von diesen Stellen der Räume waren schon
innen in mir. Manche Winde
sind wie mein sohn.

Erkennst du mich, Luft, du, voll noch einst meiniger Orte?
Du, einmal glatte Rinde,
Rundung und Blatt meiner Worte.

Breath, you invisible poem! Pure
continual exchange of our existence
for the world's extent. Counterbalance,
wherein I rhythmically recur.

Solitary wave,
whose ocean I become by degrees;
you sparsest of all possible seas -
what space you save!

How many of these spots of spaces
were inside me already! Many
a wind is like a son to me.

Do you recognize me, air, you so full of my former places?
You, smooth bark that girds,
roundness and leaf of my words.

Sonnets To Orpheus I, 4

O ihr Zärtlichen, tretet zuweilen
in dem Atem, der euch nicht meint,
laß ihn an eueren Wangen sich teilen,
hinter euch zittert er, wieder vereint.

O ihr Seiligen, o ihr Heilen,
die ihr der Anfang der Herzen scheint.
Bogen der Pfeile und Ziele von Pfeilen,
ewiger glänzt euer Lächeln verweint.

Fürchtet euch nicht zu leiden, die Schwere,
gebt sie zurück an der Erde Gewicht;
schwer sind die Berge, schwer sind die Meere.

Selbst die als Kinder ihr pflanztet, die Bäume,
wurden zu schwer längst; ihr trüget sie nicht.
Aber die Lüfte ... aber die Räume ...

Oh you tender ones, step now and then
into the breath, that knows not of you,
upon your cheeks let it split in two,
behind you it quivers, united again.

Oh you blessed ones, oh you whole,
in whom the beginning of hearts appears.
Bows for arrows and arrows' goal,
your smile is always stained with tears.

Don't be afraid the weight will oppress,
give it back to the Earth's heaviness;
heavy are the mountains, heavy are the seas.

The trees that you planted as children, these
have long been too heavy for you to bear.
But space ... but the air ...

Translation notes:

Connection from previous sonnet: “breath … gust … wind” => “breath” as metaphor for wind

Line 5: “Seiligen … Heilen”: More literal might be “saints … healers”.

Line 7: “Ziele” “goal”: Literally “target”, but there was no way to make that work. The whole line could be interpreted in terms of Cupid’s arrows, meaning falling in love; in that case it would be saying that young people are both easy to fall in love with (“bows for arrows”) and also easily fall in love (“targets for arrows”), the latter explaining why their smiles are always tear-stained. Rilke’s sonnets follow the Petrarchan 4-4-3-3 form (rather than the Shakespearean 4-4-4-2 form), and we find this theme already in Petrarch (Rime sparse #133): Amor m’à posto come segno a strale, “Love has set me up like a target for arrows”.

Line 14: “Aber die Lüfte … aber die Räume …”: Literally “But the airs … but the spaces …”. The sequence of these is important; since space is more empty and lighter than air, it should come last to maximize the expansiveness of going from being burdened by heavy things to being utterly unburdened. I wasn’t able to find a way to retain that order; doing so caused more damage than I was willing to tolerate. But changing the order weakens the line.

Sonnets To Orpheus I, 3

Ein Gott vermags. Wie aber, sag mir, soll
ein Mann ihm folgen durch die schmale Leier?
Sein Sinn ist Zwiespalt. An der Kreuzung zweier
Herzwege steht kein Tempel für Apoll.

Gesang, wie du ihn lehrst, ist nicht Begehr,
nicht Werbung um ein endlich noch Erreichtes;
Gesang ist Dasein. Für den Gott ein Leichtes.
Wann aber sind wir? Und wann wendet er

an unser Sein die Erde und die Sterne?
Dies ist nicht, Jüngling, daß du liebst, wenn auch
die Stimme dann den Mund dir aufstößt, - lerne

vergessen, daß du aufsangst. Das verrinnt.
In Wahrheit singen, ist ein andrer Hauch.
Ein Hauch um nichts. Ein Wehn im Gott. Ein Wind.

A god can do it. How do you expect
a man to squeeze on through the lyre and follow?
His mind is torn. Where heartways intersect,
you won't find any temple to Apollo.

True singing, as you teach it, isn't wanting,
not wooing anything that can be won;
no, Singing's Being. For the god, not daunting.
But when are we? And when will he then turn

into our being all the Earth and Stars?
It isn't that you love, child, even if
the voice exploded from your mouth - begin

forgetting, that you sang. That disappears.
To sing in truth is quite a different breath.
A breath of void. A gust in the god. A wind.

Translation notes:

Connection from previous sonnet: “singing god, how did you” => “how do you expect / a man to”

Line 1-2: “Wie aber, sag mir, soll / ein Mann ihm folgen durch die schmale Leier?” “But how, tell me, is a man supposed to follow him through the narrow lyre?”: Men cannot easily do what gods do. This idea reappears at the end of I,5; the god is not impeded by “the lyre’s bars”, and where he goes, “you can’t go with him”.

Line 3-4: “An der Kreuzung zweier / Herzwege”: “At the crossing of two heartways”. There were often temples at crossroads in ancient Greece, but these were usually to dark deities such as Hecate rather than to the rational sun-god Apollo. The crossroads motif reappears in the last sonnet II,29. The tradition of crossroads as places to encounter dark powers persisted even in 20th-century America; there was a legend among blues musicians that if you really wanted to acquire unnatural musical skill, you went to a crossroads at midnight, where the Devil would take your soul in return for granting such powers. The great blues singer and guitarist Robert Johnson was supposed to have done this; some of his songs (such as “Crossroad” and “Hellhound On My Trail”) even seem to support that notion.

Line 6: “Werbung” “wooing”: The default meaning would be “advertising”, “promotion”, or “publicity”, but I think here we’re looking at the secondary meaning of “courtship”.

Line 6: “Erreichtes”: Literally “attained”, “reached”, or “achieved”.

Line 13: “Hauch”: “Hauch” means “breath”, but it is a soft, quiet breath. The German “Atem” (or “Atmen”), which appears in I,4, II,1, II,2, II,19, and II,29, also means breath but implies something stronger and more active.

Line 14: “Ein Hauch um nichts. Ein Wehn im Gott.”: Literally, “A breath about nothing. A flurry in the god.” Here Rilke achieves a sense of emptiness by first creating a near-nothingness (a voice or breath), and then taking away its content/meaning, so it becomes even emptier (“about nothing”).