Rilke, Lunatics in the Garden
Lunatics in the Garden (revision)
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Dijon
The former Charterhouse still closes round
its courtyard, like a thing that’s healing. Those
who live there now experience a pause,
as well, and take no part in life beyond.
Whatever still could happen has departed.
Now they gladly walk on well-known paths
and separate and come together as
if circling: willing, simple, single-hearted.
Indeed, some tend spring beds of flowers there—
humbly, weakly, on their knees—
and yet when nobody is there who sees,
they make a secretive, bizarre
gesture toward the tender early grass,
a tentative caress, almost afraid,
because it’s friendly, and the roses’ red
may threaten them with its excessiveness,
and may perhaps again transcend too much
the things their hearts can understand and know.
But this can still remain their secret: how
benign the grass is and how soft its touch.
Revisions:
S2L1 "still could" was "could still"
Lunatics in the Garden
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Dijon
The former Charterhouse still closes round
the yard, as if a wound were healing. Even
the ones who now inhabit it are given
time off and take no part in life beyond.
Whatever might have happened has departed.
Now they gladly walk on well-known paths
and separate and come together as
if circling: willing, simple, single-hearted.
It’s true that some tend beds there of spring flowers—
humbly, weakly, on their knees—
and yet they make, when no one’s there who sees,
a surreptitious, crazy gesture
toward the delicate and early grass,
a tentative caress, almost afraid,
because it’s friendly, and the roses’ red
may be excessive, turning ominous,
and may perhaps again surpass too much
the things their hearts can understand and know.
But this can still remain their secret: how
benign the grass is and how soft its touch.
Irre im Garten
Dijon
Noch schließt die aufgegebene Kartause
sich um den Hof, als würde etwas heil.
Auch die sie jetzt bewohnen, haben Pause
und nehmen nicht am Leben draußen teil.
Was irgend kommen konnte, das verlief.
Nun gehn sie gerne mit bekannten Wegen,
und trennen sich und kommen sich entgegen,
als ob sie kreisten, willig, primitiv.
Zwar manche pflegen dort die Frühlingsbeete,
demütig, dürftig, hingekniet;
aber sie haben, wenn es keiner sieht,
eine verheimlichte, verdrehte
Gebärde für das zarte frühe Gras,
ein prüfendes, verschüchtertes Liebkosen:
denn das ist freundlich, und das Rot der Rosen
wird vielleicht drohend sein und Übermaß
und wird vielleicht schon wieder übersteigen,
was ihre Seele wiederkennt und weiß.
Dies aber lässt sich noch verschweigen:
wie gut das Gras ist und wie leis.
Literal translation:
Lunatics in the Garden
Dijon
The shut-down Charterhouse still closes itself
around the courtyard, as if something were healing.
Even those who now inhabit it have a break
and do not take part in life outside.
Whatever could happen, that has left.
Now they gladly walk the well-known paths,
and separate and come together
as if they circled, willing, primitive.
It’s true, some tend the spring flowerbeds there,
humble, weak, on their knees;
but they make, when no one sees it,
a surreptitious, crazy
gesture toward the tender, early grass,
a tentative, fearful caress:
for that is friendly, and the red of the roses
may perhaps become menacing and too intense
and may perhaps once again exceed
what their hearts can recognize and know.
But this can still be concealed:
how good the grass is and how soft.
Last edited by Susan McLean; 11-11-2019 at 02:57 AM.
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