Corona Poem by Paul Celan
Corona
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk:
then time returns to the shell.
In the mirror it's Sunday,
in dream there is room for sleeping,
our mouths speak the truth.
My eye moves down to the sex of my loved one:
we look at each other,
we exchange dark words,
we love each other like poppy and recollection,
we sleep like wine in the conches,
like the sea in the moon's blood ray.
We stand by the window embracing, and people look up from
the street:
it is time they knew!
It is time the stone made an effort to flower,
time unrest had a beating heart.
It is time it were time.
It is time.
Translated by Michael Hamburger
in German - original version: Corona Aus der Hand frißt der Herbst mir sein Blatt: wir sind Freunde. Wir schälen die Zeit aus den Nüssen und lehren sie gehn: die Zeit kehrt zurück in die Schale. Im Spiegel ist Sonntag, im Traum wird geschlafen, der Mund redet wahr. Mein Aug steigt hinab zum Geschlecht der Geliebten: wir sehen uns an, wir sagen uns Dunkles, wir lieben einander wie Mohn und Gedächtnis, wir schlafen wie Wein in den Muscheln, wie das Meer im Blutstrahl des Mondes. Wir stehen umschlungen im Fenster, sie sehen uns zu von der Straße: es ist Zeit, daß man weiß! Es ist Zeit, daß der Stein sich zu blühen bequemt, daß der Unrast ein Herz schlägt. Es ist Zeit, daß es Zeit wird. Es ist Zeit. Paul Celan (b.23 November 1920)
It reminds me of the song TIME popularized by ALAN PARSONS PROJECT++++++++++++++++++
Room for sleeping! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
FINAL: he memory of disaster and the busy pressure of the time period immediately after the war affect the private life of the two lovers and shape the tone of this love poem
Corona" is a short lyric poem about the difficulty of loving, honestly and truly, for two people who have experienced the catastrophes of World War II and the Holocaust.
5. Although I attempt translating poems of other poets, I have found it quite difficult to translate my own poems.
4. I am bilingual (at least) . I write both in Malayalam and English. But, I have realised very often that, it is the poem that decides which language it would be born. I have not much of a choice there.
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12/10/2024 10:19:54 PM # 1.0.0
but read my comments * [ '' PSALM '' ] '' Hamburger’s translations are more definite. [..] no one translation will ever be adequate enough. [..] A reader wishing to fully intake Celan’s words in English must become a comparative reader, a critical reader, and most importantly a reader who understands that perhaps one of Celan’s most discomforting elements is that he didn’t always wish to be understood. '' * [Goodrich, J., Rhyme or Reason? : Successfully Translating the Poetry of Paul Celan,2008]
yes no one translation will ever be adequate, therefore among a sea of possible translations, saviour and save the best, those that touch the essence of this poem, that touch the spirit and profound meaning of this poem, so that those not fluent in the mother language can share some of the possibilities; when a poet fluent in language translates heart felt meaning, a compliment translation is written, which can be as radiant and sublime as the original filled with a spark of cosmic insight like the original, for the original is will of the wisp life within individual friendship experiences seen grasped in nuts of time shelled