Ich bin, Geliebte, Gottes schmaler Spiegel,
In den er blickt, eh' er zur Ruhe geht.
Mein Herz ist seines Ringes rotes Siegel,
Das er dem Abend aufprägt, eh' er ganz verweht.
Ich bin, Geliebte, Gottes Silberschale,
Aus der er oft des Schlummers Rotwein trinkt,
Von deren tiefem Grunde wie aus einem Tale
Des bleichen Monds das Lied der Schwermut klingt.
Ich war, Geliebte, Gottes stummer Spiegel.
Nun sing ich in der Ferne leise Lieder
Zur Laute dir, wenn rings die Sterne steigen.
Mein Herz war Gottes abendrotes Siegel.
Nun spricht er zu mir aus der Sterne Schweigen:
“in meinem Garten sehet ihr euch wieder...”
In den er blickt, eh' er zur Ruhe geht.
Mein Herz ist seines Ringes rotes Siegel,
Das er dem Abend aufprägt, eh' er ganz verweht.
Ich bin, Geliebte, Gottes Silberschale,
Aus der er oft des Schlummers Rotwein trinkt,
Von deren tiefem Grunde wie aus einem Tale
Des bleichen Monds das Lied der Schwermut klingt.
Ich war, Geliebte, Gottes stummer Spiegel.
Nun sing ich in der Ferne leise Lieder
Zur Laute dir, wenn rings die Sterne steigen.
Mein Herz war Gottes abendrotes Siegel.
Nun spricht er zu mir aus der Sterne Schweigen:
“in meinem Garten sehet ihr euch wieder...”
envoyé par Dead End - 1/10/2012 - 10:15
Langue: anglais
Traduzione inglese di Gershon Kingsley da Voices From The Shadow.
NIGHT BLESSING
I am, beloved, God’s small mirror
into which He glances at the end of the day.
My heart is His red signet ring
that He stamps upon the evening before it wafts away.
I am, beloved, God’s silver chalice
from which He often drinks the ruby wine of sleep.
From its depths, as from a valley on the pale moon,
resounds a melancholy song, so sad, so deep.
I once was, beloved, God’s silent mirror;
now, from far away, I sing soft lute songs to you
as all the stars ascend.
My heart was once God’s sunset-red seal;
Now He speaks to me from the silence of the stars:
“In my garden you shall meet again ...”
I am, beloved, God’s small mirror
into which He glances at the end of the day.
My heart is His red signet ring
that He stamps upon the evening before it wafts away.
I am, beloved, God’s silver chalice
from which He often drinks the ruby wine of sleep.
From its depths, as from a valley on the pale moon,
resounds a melancholy song, so sad, so deep.
I once was, beloved, God’s silent mirror;
now, from far away, I sing soft lute songs to you
as all the stars ascend.
My heart was once God’s sunset-red seal;
Now He speaks to me from the silence of the stars:
“In my garden you shall meet again ...”
envoyé par Dead End - 1/10/2012 - 10:15
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Poesia scritta nel ghetto/campo di concentramento di Theresienstadt.
Musica del compositore tedesco americano Gershon Kingsley, dal suo lavoro teatrale-musicale intitolato Voices From The Shadow realizzato nel 1997 e pubblicato nel 2005.
Georg Kafka, lontano parente dello scrittore praghese Franz Kafka, fu internato a Theresienstadt nel 1942, poi trasferito ad Auschwitz nel 1944 ed infine ucciso dai nazisti a Schwarzheide, dove aveva sede una grossa raffineria, la Brabag (Braunkohlen Benzin AG), in cui prigionieri venivano mandati a lavorare.