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A Tramp Abroad - The Original Classic Edition. Twain MarkЧитать онлайн книгу.

A Tramp Abroad - The Original Classic Edition - Twain Mark


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was thrown on shore by a powerful wave."

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       The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during many centuries, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to our respect. One feels drawn tenderly toward her and is moved to forget her many crimes and remember only the good deed that crowned and closed her career.

       "The Fairy was never more seen; but her enchanting tones have often been heard. In the beautiful, refreshing, still nights of spring, when the

       moon pours her silver light over the Country, the listening shipper

       hears from the rushing of the waves, the echoing Clang of a wonderfully charming voice, which sings a song from the crystal castle, and with sorrow and fear he thinks on the young Count Hermann, seduced by the Nymph."

       Here is the music, and the German words by Heinrich Heine. This song has been a favorite in Germany for forty years, and will remain a favorite

       always, maybe. [Figure 5]

       I have a prejudice against people who print things in a foreign language and add no translation. When I am the reader, and the author considers me able to do the translating myself, he pays me quite a nice

       compliment--but if he would do the translating for me I would try to get along without the compliment.

       If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of this poem, but

       I am abroad and can't; therefore I will make a translation myself. It may not be a good one, for poetry is out of my line, but it will serve

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       my purpose--which is, to give the unGerman young girl a jingle of words to hang the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made by some one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poetical thought from one language to another.

       THE LORELEI

       I cannot divine what it meaneth,

       This haunting nameless pain:

       A tale of the bygone ages

       Keeps brooding through my brain:

       The faint air cools in the glooming,

       And peaceful flows the Rhine, The thirsty summits are drinking The sunset's flooding wine;

       The loveliest maiden is sitting High-throned in yon blue air, Her golden jewels are shining, She combs her golden hair;

       She combs with a comb that is golden, And sings a weird refrain

       That steeps in a deadly enchantment

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       The list'ner's ravished brain:

       The doomed in his drifting shallop, Is tranced with the sad sweet tone, He sees not the yawning breakers, He sees but the maid alone:

       The pitiless billows engulf him!-- So perish sailor and bark;

       And this, with her baleful singing, Is the Lorelei's gruesome work.

       I have a translation by Garnham, Bachelor of Arts, in the LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, but it would not answer the purpose I mentioned above, because

       the measure is too nobly irregular; it don't fit the tune snugly enough;

       in places it hangs over at the ends too far, and in other places one

       runs out of words before he gets to the end of a bar. Still, Garnham's translation has high merits, and I am not dreaming of leaving it out of

       my book. I believe this poet is wholly unknown in America and England; I

       take peculiar pleasure in bringing him forward because I consider that I

       discovered him:

       THE LORELEI

       Translated by L. W. Garnham, B.A.

       I do not know what it signifies.

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       That I am so sorrowful?

       A fable of old Times so terrifies,

       Leaves my heart so thoughtful.

       The air is cool and it darkens,

       And calmly flows the Rhine;

       The summit of the mountain hearkens

       In evening sunshine line.

       The most beautiful Maiden entrances

       Above wonderfully there,

       Her beautiful golden attire glances, She combs her golden hair.

       With golden comb so lustrous, And thereby a song sings,

       It has a tone so wondrous, That powerful melody rings.

       The shipper in the little ship

       It effects with woe sad might; He does not see the rocky slip, He only regards dreaded height.

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       I believe the turbulent waves Swallow the last shipper and boat; She with her singing craves

       All to visit hermagic moat.

       No translation could be closer. He has got in all the facts; and in their regular order, too. There is not a statistic wanting. It is as succinct as an invoice. That is what a translation ought to be; it should exactly reflect the thought of the original. You can't SING "Above wonderfully there," because it simply won't go to the tune, without damaging the singer; but it is a most clingingly exact

       translation of DORT OBEN WUNDERBAR--fits it like a blister. Mr. Garnham's reproduction has other merits--a hundred of them--but it is not necessary to point them out. They will be detected.

       No one with a specialty can hope to have a monopoly of it. Even Garnham has a rival. Mr. X had a small pamphlet with him which he had bought

       while on a visit to Munich. It was entitled A CATALOGUE OF PICTURES IN THE OLD PINACOTEK, and was written in a peculiar kind of English. Here

       are a few extracts:

       "It is not permitted to make use of the work in question to a publication of the same contents as well as to the pirated edition of it."

       "An evening landscape. In the foreground near a pond and a group of white beeches is leading a footpath animated by travelers."

       "A learned man in a cynical and torn dress holding an open book in his

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       hand."

       "St. Bartholomew and the Executioner with the knife to fulfil the

       martyr."

       "Portrait of a young man. A long while this picture was thought to be

       Bindi Altoviti's portrait; now somebody will again have it to be the self-portrait of Raphael."

       "Susan bathing, surprised by the two old man. In the background the lapidation of the condemned."

       ("Lapidation" is good; it is much more elegant than "stoning.")

       "St. Rochus sitting in a landscape with an angel who looks at his plague-sore, whilst the dog the bread in his mouth attents him."

       "Spring. The Goddess Flora, sitting. Behind her a fertile valley perfused by a river."

       "A beautiful bouquet animated by May-bugs, etc."

       "A warrior in armor with a gypseous pipe in his hand leans against a table and blows the smoke far away of himself."

       "A Dutch landscape along a navigable river which perfuses it till to the background."

       "Some peasants singing in a cottage. A woman lets drink a child out of a

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       cup."

       "St. John's head as a boy--painted in fresco on a brick." (Meaning a tile.)

       "A young man of the Riccio family, his hair cut off right at the end, dressed in black with the same cap. Attributed to Raphael, but the signation is false."

       "The Virgin holding the Infant. It is very painted in the manner of

       Sassoferrato."

      


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