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| Foto: RMC |
Death Fugue
by Paul Celan
loose translation by Michael R. Burch (originaltittel: Totesfuge -
Dødsfuge på norsk)
Black milk of daybreak, we drink it come morning;
we drink it come midday; we drink it, come night;
we drink it and drink it.
We are digging a grave like a hole in the sky; there’s sufficient room to lie there.
The man of the house plays with vipers; he writes
in the Teutonic darkness, "Your golden hair Margarete ..."
He writes poems by the stars, whistles hounds to stand by,
whistles Jews to dig graves, where together they’ll lie.
He commands us to strike up bright tunes for the dance!
Black milk of daybreak, we drink you each morning;
we drink you at midday; we drink you at night;
we drink you and drink you.
The man of the house plays with serpents, he writes ...
he writes when the night falls, "Your golden hair Margarete ...
Your ashen hair Shulamith ..."
We are digging dark graves where there’s more room, on high.
His screams, "You dig there!" and "Hey you, dance and sing!"
He grabs his black nightstick, his eyes pallid blue,
cries, "Hey you, dig more deeply! You others, keep dancing!"
Black milk of daybreak, we drink you each morning;
we drink you at midday, we drink you at night;
we drink you and drink you.
The man of the house writes, "Your golden hair Margarete ...
Your ashen hair Shulamith." He toys with our lives.
He screams, "Play for me! Death’s a master of Germany!"
His screams, "Stroke dark strings, soon like black smoke you’ll rise
to a grave in the clouds; there’s sufficient room for Jews there!"
Black milk of daybreak, we drink you at midnight;
we drink you at noon; Death’s the master of Germany!
We drink you come evening; we drink you and drink you.
A master of Deutschland, with eyes deathly blue,
with dull bullets of lead our pale master will murder you!
He writes when the night falls, "Your golden hair Margarete ..."
He unleashes his hounds, grants us graves in the skies.
He plays with his serpents; he’s a master of Germany ...
your golden hair Margarete ...
your ashen hair Shulamith.
Her leser poeten sitt dikt på originalspråket tysk:
Det diktet av Celan finst i norsk gjendikting både av Olav H. Hauge og Georg Johannesen, og kanskje også av Øyvind Berg. (Altså ikkje sikker på det siste, men Berg har gjendikta mest av Celan til norsk..) Og begge dei norske gjendiktingane er betre enn dette, vil eg påstå...
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Anne K.
Jeg vet det! ;-) Jeg har den nyoversatte diktsamlingen liggende, og har tenkt å blogge om den om ikke veldig lenge. Det er fantastiske dikt!
SvarSlett;-) Rose-Marie
Thanks for sharing my translation of Paul Celan's very important poem.
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