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Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Four mysteries!
Sea... Earth... Heaven... and Woman...
Really, I mean it!, size doesn't matter!
Just close your eyes
And they will talk to you!
ODA SOBRE UNA URNA GRIEGA, de JOHN KEATS
I
Oh, tú, intacta aún esposa de la calma;
oh, tú, hija adoptiva del silencio y del tiempo
remansado;
rústica historiadora, que a tu manera cuentas,
con más dulzura que la poesía, un frondoso
relato:
¿Qué leyenda, con hojas adornada, en torno tuyo
ronda?
¿Sus figuras son dioses, mortales, o ambas
cosas?
¿En Tempe están o en valles de la Arcadia?
¿Qué hombres o dioses muestras? ¿Qué doncellas
esquivas?
¿Qué loco perseguir? ¿Qué afán por escapar?
¿Qué flautas y tambores? ¿Qué impetuoso
éxtasis?
II
La melodía oída siempre es dulce, pero cuánto
más dulce
es la que no se oye. Seguid sonando, pues,
sutiles flautas;
no ya para el oído, sino, más apreciadas,
tocad para el espíritu vuestras mudas
canciones.
Bello joven, debajo de los árboles, jamás podrá
cesar
tu música, y jamás se quedarán sin hojas esas
frondas;
ansioso amante, no podrás besar
-casi, casi rozándola- a tu amada, pero no te
lamentes:
ella conservará toda su luz y, aunque tú no la
alcances,
por siempre la amarás, será hermosa por
siempre.
III
Oh, felices ramajes, que no podéis dejar
vuestras hojas caer ni despediros de la
primavera;
oh, músico dichoso, infatigable,
que sin cesar entonas melodías que suenan
siempre nuevas;
oh, más dichoso amor, amor feliz, feliz,
eternamente ardiente sin ser nunca gozado,
anhelante por siempre y siempre joven:
viviendo siempre por encima de la pasión
humana,
que deja el corazón triste, hastiado,
encendida la frente y abrasada la lengua.
IV
¿Quiénes son estos yendo al sacrificio?
¿Hacia qué verde altar, misterioso oficiante,
conduces a esa res que muge al cielo,
cubiertos con guirnaldas sus suavísimos lomos?
¿Qué pueblo junto a un río o junto al mar,
o erigido en un monte, con tranquilas murallas,
esta pía mañana se ha quedado vacío de su
gente?
Tus calles siempre, pueblo diminuto,
seguirán en silencio, y ni una sola alma
regresará a decirte por qué estás desolado.
V
¡Oh, ática figura! ¡Hermosa imagen! Hombres y doncellas
que nacieron del mármol, labrados al detalle,
entre boscosas ramas y pisada hojarasca.
Tú, silenciosa forma, logras ensimismarnos
como la eternidad. ¡Oh, fría pastoral!
Cuando la edad consuma a esta generación,
seguirás siendo, en medio de lamentos
distintos a los nuestros, de los hombres amiga, a los que dices:
«La belleza es verdad, la verdad es belleza». Eso es todo
lo que sabéis vosotros en la tierra. Y nada más
necesitáis saber.
«Belleza y verdad» Edición y traducción de Lorenzo Oliván. Ed. Pre-textos. Valencia, 2010.
About HÖLDERLIN
sábado, 26 de noviembre de 2011
HÖLDERLIN
Pero a nosotros nos corresponde, ¡poetas!, enfrentarnos
a las tormentas de Dios con la cabeza descubierta.
Hölderlin
 |
| Friedrich Hölderlin |
No
deja de sorprender la similitud de la cita que abre esta entrada con
unos versos del grandísimo poeta y caballero valenciano Ausiàs March,
quien casi cuatrocientos años antes escribió:
Jo sóc aquell qui’n lo tems de tempesta...
vaig sobre neu descalç ab nua testa.
(Yo soy aquel que en los tiempos de tempestad...
voy sobre nieve descalzo con la cabeza desnuda.)
 |
| Ausiàs March |
Johann Christian
Friedrich Hölderlin fue, como todo el mundo sabe, un poeta, un gran
poeta alemán, lo cual es lo mismo que decir que fue uno de los mayores
poetas de la literatura universal. Nació en 1770 y murió en 1840 pero
abandonó este mundo mucho antes: en 1806 fue internado en una clínica
debido a severos problemas mentales. Allí se le diagnosticó una
enfermedad incurable que en aquel entonces llamaban simple y llanamente
«locura»;
en la
actualidad quizá encajaría en lo que se llama «esquizofrenia catatónica»
pero en la actualidad de dentro de cincuenta o cien años no sabemos
dónde la harán encajar. Desde ese momento, 1806, hasta el día de su
muerte, un siete de junio de 1843, es decir, durante treinta y seis
años, se hizo cargo de él un buen hombre, el ebanista Ernst Zimmer,
quien lo alojó en una habitación independiente de su casa con forma de
torre a orillas del río Néckar, en la pequeña ciudad de Tubinga.
En
esa habitación y en sus mundos fantasmales vivió todo ese tiempo,
aunque, como ya hemos dicho, ya no era él. No se reconocía a sí mismo
por su nombre sino que se atribuía nombres italianos; el más frecuente
fue el de Scardanelli y con él firmó numerosos de los poemas que todavía
escribió desde el otro lado.
La obra de Hölderlin es muy extensa y su influencia en el pensamiento y poesía de su época de gran importancia. No obstante, no entraremos en detalles. En la habitación de la torre de Tubinga recibía visitas de curiosos, pero también de personas cultas que querían distraerle y consolarle lo mejor que supieran y pudieran. Es de destacar la relación que mantuvo con Scardanelli Wilhelm Waiblinger, quien lo visitó durante muchos años, daba paseos con él, le hacía escribir, cosas así. Waiblinger escribió un libro, publicado en español por la editorial Hiperión, editado por Txaro Santoro y Anacleto Ferrer, titulado «Vida, poesía y locura de Friedrich Hölderlin»; de este libro estoy extrayendo muchas cosas para esta entrada.
La obra de Hölderlin es muy extensa y su influencia en el pensamiento y poesía de su época de gran importancia. No obstante, no entraremos en detalles. En la habitación de la torre de Tubinga recibía visitas de curiosos, pero también de personas cultas que querían distraerle y consolarle lo mejor que supieran y pudieran. Es de destacar la relación que mantuvo con Scardanelli Wilhelm Waiblinger, quien lo visitó durante muchos años, daba paseos con él, le hacía escribir, cosas así. Waiblinger escribió un libro, publicado en español por la editorial Hiperión, editado por Txaro Santoro y Anacleto Ferrer, titulado «Vida, poesía y locura de Friedrich Hölderlin»; de este libro estoy extrayendo muchas cosas para esta entrada.
Cuando Scardanelli
era todavía Hölderlin mantuvo una relación con una mujer casada,
Susette, a quien el poeta rebautizó con el nombre de Diotima. En el
diario de Waiblinger se puede leer:
«Si
se le dice que su Diotima tuvo que ser una noble criatura, contesta
conmovido: “¡Ay, mi Diotima!... No me hable usted de mi Diotima. Trece
hijos me ha parido. El uno es Papa, el otro Sultán, el tercero Zar de
Rusia...
¿Y sabe usted lo que le ha pasado? Se ha vuelto loca; loca, loca, loca.”»
El hecho de que
Hölderlin se olvidara de su nombre y pasara a llamarse, mayormente,
Scardanelli, obedece a una particularidad de su enfermedad que le hacía
distanciarse cada vez más de la realidad. Como señala Federico
Bermúdez-Cañete Scardanelli mantenía «una actitud distanciadora, a
través de exageradas fórmulas de cortesía en el trato social, con las
que protegía su maltratada afectividad»: «Vuesa majestad», «vuesa
santidad», «reverendo padre», «señor barón», eran algunas de esas
disparatadas fórmulas.
En el mismo diario, en otro lugar podemos leer:
«Le hicieron entrega
de un ejemplar de sus poemas, dio las gracias, hojeó el libro y dijo:
“Sí, los poemas son auténticos, son míos, pero el título es falso. En mi
vida me he llamado Hölderlin, sino Scardanelli, o Salvador Rosa o algo
así”»
De unas conversaciones entre el escritor Gustav Kühne con el ebanista Zimmer destacamos:
Zimmer:
«Cuando
está cansado de haber andado se retira a su cuarto, declama al vacío
con la ventana abierta, no sabe cómo desembarazarse de su gran saber. A
veces se sienta a su espineta y toca durante cuatro horas sin cesar,
como si quisiera hacer salir hasta la última brizna de su saber. Y
siempre el mismo tono monótono, la misma cantilena, que uno ya no sabe
dónde meterse en toda la casa. Tengo que dominarme con todas mis fuerzas
para que no me estalle la cabeza. Pero por otra parte a menudo toca muy
bien. Lo único molesto es el ruido de sus uñas demasiado largas. Es
toda una batalla cortárselas...»
Kühne:
«¿Aún escribe versos?
Zimmer:
«Casi todo el día...»
Todos los poemas que aparecen a continuación fueron escritos en la torre junto al Néckar:
NO TODOS LOS DÍAS
No todos los días alcanzan la belleza
Para aquel que añora las alegrías
De los amigos que le amaron, de los hombres
Demorándose con afecto junto al adolescente.
LAS DELICIAS DE ESTE MUNDO
Las delicias de este mundo ya he gozado,
Los días de mi juventud hace tanto, ¡tanto!, que se desvanecieron,
Abril y Mayo y Julio están lejanos,
¡Ya nada soy, ya nada me complace!
A ZIMMER
Un hombre sabio, pienso, cuando es bueno
Y sabio, ¿qué más precisa? ¿Hay algo
Que baste a un alma? ¿Ha crecido
Sobre la tierra algún cálamo, algún
Sarmiento en sazón que pueda alimentarlo? Tal es el sentido.
Un amigo a menudo es la amante, y más
El Arte. Oh amadísimo, a ti te digo la verdad.
Tuyo es el genio de Dédalo y del bosque.
EL ESPÍRITU DEL TIEMPO
La vida es la tarea del hombre en este mundo,
Y así como los años pasan, así como los tiempos hacia lo más alto avanzan,
Así como el cambio existe, así
En el paso de los años se alcanza la permanencia;
La perfección se logra en esta vida
Acomodándose a ella la noble ambición de los hombres.
24 de mayo de 1748
Humildemente
Scardanelli.
Obsérvese cómo la fecha que escribe Scardanelli pone más de manifiesto su distanciamiento de la realidad arriba mencionado.
LA PRIMAVERA
Despierta el día, esplendoroso está el cielo,
Brillan las estrellas luminarias,
Mirándolas el hombre a sí mismo se encuentra,
El comienzo del año es altamente contemplado.
Se destacan los montes donde brillan los ríos,
Las florescencias de los árboles son radiantes coronas,
El joven año comienza como con Fiestas,
Formándose los hombres con lo mejor y lo más alto.
24 de mayo
1748
Humildemente
Scardanelli.
LA VIDA ALBOROZADA
Cuando a la pradera llego,
a través de estos campos, Bueno y pacífico me siento,
Invulnerable a los espinos.
Mi ropa ondea en el viento,
Y el alegre espíritu busca
Su fondo, hasta
Que hallado lo celebra.
Oh dulce cuadro,
Bajo los verdes árboles,
Que mi paso detiene
Como el letrero de una taberna.
La paz de los tranquilos días
Me parece decididamente excelsa,
Pero no preguntes nada,
Pues yo he de decírtelo.
Hacia el hermoso arroyo
Afanosamente busco una alegre senda,
Hasta que a mis ojos muestra
Su serpentear por la salvaje ribera,
El pequeño puente que airoso lo cruza
Y que al bello bosque asciende;
Donde el viento agita el puente,
Alzo la vista alborozado.
En lo alto de la colina
Algunas tardes a reposar me siento
Mientras el viento alrededor de las cumbres silba
Y suenan las campanas en la torre,
La contemplación trae la paz a mi corazón
Que unido queda a esa imagen,
Aliviando sus dolores
Más allá de la razón.
¡Paisaje amado! por cuyo centro
Pasa el camino, tan llano,
Y sobre él la pálida luna se eleva
Cuando el viento del anochecer comienza,
Y más grandiosas las montañas,
A mi hogar regreso, pleno,
En busca del dorado vino.
EL CEMENTERIO
Pacífico lugar donde la joven hierba verdea,
Donde hombre y mujer yacen y las cruces se elevan,
Donde son conducidos los amigos,
Donde claro cristal relumbra en las ventanas.
Desde el alto resplandor del cielo
De mediodía, hasta la Primavera que en tu silencio se demora,
Nubes espirituales, grises y húmedas,
La hermosura del apacible día, todos sobre ti pasan.
Qué paz en este muro gris
Sobre el que cuelgan los frutos de un árbol;
Ramas negras cubiertas de rocío y de duelo,
Pero que sin embargo muestran en sus frutos la belleza.
Reina una oscura paz en la iglesia
Y el altar es esta noche más recogido,
Brillan aún en él los ornamentos,
Canta un grillo en los campos del Verano.
Cuando se escucha allí hablar al sacerdote,
Junto al grupo de amigos
Que acompañan al muerto. ¡Qué intimidad
Y noble espíritu, que la piedad propician!
Hölderlin sirvió de inspiración a músicos y otros
artistas. Brahms escribió esta bella «Canción del destino» para coro y
orquesta sobre el texto «Hyperions Schicksalslied». Lleva el nº de opus
54.
Interpretan:
Danish National Choir
Danish National Symphony Orchestra
Gerd Albrecht
«Hyperions Schicksalslied»,
Ihr wandelt droben im Licht
Auf weichem Boden, selige Genien!
Glänzende Götterlüfte
Rühren Euch leicht,
Wie die Finger der Künstlerin
Heilige saiten.
Schicksallos, wie der schlafende
Säugling, atmen die Himmlischen;
Keusch bewahrt
in bescheidener Knospe
Blühet ewig
Ihnen der Geist,
Und die seligen Augen
Blicken in stiller
Ewiger Klarheit.
Doch uns ist gegeben,
Auf keiner Stätte zu ruhn;
Es schwinden, es fallen
Die leidenden Menschen
Blindlings von einer
Stunde zur andern,
Wie Wasser von Klippe
Zu Klippe geworfen,
Jahrlang ins Ungewisse hinab.
«Canción del Destino»
¡Andáis arriba, en la luz,
por blando suelo, genios felices!
Espléndidas brisas divinas
os rozan apenas,
como los dedos de la artista
las cuerdas sagradas.
Carentes de destino, como el niño
dormido, respiran los celestes;
con pudor preservado
en humilde capullo,
florece eternamente
el espíritu en ellos,
y sus ojos felices
contemplan la tranquila
y eterna claridad.
Pero a nosotros no nos es dado
descansar en ninguna parte;
desaparecen, sufren
los hombres, caen
ciegamente de una
hora en otra,
como agua, de roca
en roca arrojada
durante años a la incertidumbre.
(Traducción de Jesús Munárriz)
Hanns Eisler fue un
compositor alemán alumno de Arnold Schoenberg pero que se desmarcó de
los postulados del dodecafonismo y por eso es bastante desconocido. Fue
adepto del llamado realismo socialista. Escribió este Lied
con texto de Hölderlin del que lamentablemente no dispongo del texto,
por lo que pido disculpas. La música de Eisler es de una belleza
misteriosa y, sin duda, injustamente olvidada.
El Lied que vamos a escuchar pertenece al álbum «Hollywooder Liederbuch», en concreto el número 5 de los «Hölderlin-Fragmente», titulado «An eine Stadt».
Interpretan:
Matthias Goerne
Eric Schneider
 |
Hanns Eisler
|
Interpretan:
Matthias Goerne
Eric Schneider
Muchos han sido los
poetas y escritores que han sido influidos por Hölderlin o han querido
escribirle un texto en homenaje. Del libro «Poetas del poeta. A
Friedrich Hölderlin en el 150 aniversario de su muerte», que es una
recopilación de textos de este tipo realizada por Anacleto Ferrer y
Jesús Munárriz y publicada también por la editorial Hiperión extraigo
unos cuantos.
A Hölderlin
por Olga Botsi
¿Qué hermosamente te adormeciste
en las aguas silenciosas de la locura,
pájaro sagrado, tú, amigo de los dioses,
y desapareciste en la lejana
belleza por ti siempre deseada!
Invocación a Hölderlin
por Antonio Colinas
para Vicente Aleixandre
El levitón gastado, el sombrero caído
hacia atrás, las guedejas de trapo y unas llamas
en las cuencas profundas de sus dos ojos bellos.
No sé si esta figura maltrecha al caminar
escapa de un castigo o busca un paraíso.
De vez en cuando palpa su pecho traspasado
y toma la honda queja para el labio sin beso.
Oh Hölderlin a un tiempo andrajo y vara en flor,
nido pleno de trinos, muñeco maltratado.
A tu locura se abren los bosques más sombríos.
No ves cómo las fuentes se quiebran de abandono
cada vez que te acercas con tu paso cansado,
cada vez que desatas tu carcajada rota,
cada vez que sollozas tirado entre la yerba.
¿Qué claro estaba escrito tu sino bajo el cielo...!
Antes de que pusieras tu mano en el papel
fríos soles de invierno cruzaban la Suabia,
dejaban por las nubes agrios trazos verdosos.
Cuando tú, silencioso y enlutado, leías
latín en una celda ya hubo duendes extraños
sembrando por tus venas no sé qué fuego noble.
Y antes de que acabaras hablando a las estatuas
aves negras picaban tus dos ojos azules.
Hölderlin vagabundo, Hölderlin ruiseñor
de estremecido canto sin ojos y sin ramas
ahora que cae espesa la noche del otoño
contempla a nuestro lado la enfebrecida luna,
deja fluir tu queja, tus parloteos mágicos,
deja un silbo tan solo de tu canto en el aire.
Detén por un momento tu caminar y espanta
la muerte que en tus hombros encorvada te acecha.
Rasga los polvorientos velos de tu memoria
y que discurra el sueño, y que sepamos todos
de dónde brota el agua que sacia nuestra sed.
Tübingen
por Eugénio de Andrade
Sólo la torre oscilaba
sobre el río.
Sólo la torre.
Ni la fiebre de la mirada
adolescente, ni
la locura tardía.
O la pasión de la palabra
vuelta melancolía.
Hölderlin
por Julio Cortázar
Criaturas de agua y césped son las nubes
Que ascienden sin violencia por las gradas
Del monte prodigioso, y salvan leves
El exceso temible del espacio,
Su dura resistencia imprevisible.
La liviana leticia las impulsa
Como faldas o anémonas o géyseres,
Y se ciernen más altas que el topacio
Durísimo del tiempo. Los sauces desde el suelo las repiten;
Cabalgadas de pájaros discurren
Como profundas solitarias cosas.
Soneto nº 9
por Günter Grass
Baldío yace el país al cuervo hambriento entregado,
se propaga el topo, hay demasiado, es sospechoso,
perro raro delante del cercado, celoso.
Quieren que paguemos: en la mano y al contado.
Porque en el centro situado, rico, indefenso,
miedo metódico sudó un arquitectónico invento:
como baluarte tierra noviembre se quiere asegurar
ante gitanos, negros, judíos y los de ultramar.
Hacia el Este como marca fronteriza estará Polonia;
así de rápido y útil nos inventamos la historia.
De siempre construimos castillos por placer puro,
levantamos murallas, erigimos el muro,
y contra claustrofobia, monotonía, depre de cuartel,
un Hölderlin placía, en el macuto pan y poesías de él.
Oda a Hölderlin
por Hermann Hesse
Amigo de juventud, vuelvo a ti agradecido
algunas tardes, cuando en la mata de lilas
del jardín que ya duerme
sólo sigue sonando la fuente en su murmullo.
Hoy nadie te conoce, amigo; el tiempo nuevo
se alejó del tranquilo encanto de tu Grecia;
sin oración ni dioses,
va prosaicamente el pueblo por el polvo.
Pero par el secreto grupo de ensimismados
cuyas almas hirió el dios con anhelos,
aún siguen resonando
las canciones de tu divina arpa.
Volvemos impacientes, fatigados del día,
a la ambrosiaca noche de tus cantos,
cuyas alas abiertas
nos dan sombra con sueño dorado.
Y cuando nos arroba tu canto, arde más fuerte,
más dolorosamente, hacia el feliz país del tiempo ido,
hacia los templos griegos,
nuestra eterna nostalgia.
 |
Escultura de Hölderlin
|
Cuando murió Hölderlin, alguien pintó en la fachada de la torre:
«Hölderlin no estaba loco»
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Nietzsche's Book
Beyond
Good and Evil
Prelude to a Future Philosophy
Prelude to a Future Philosophy
by
Friedrich Nietzsche
Friedrich Nietzsche
This translation
by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College, Nanaimo, BC (now Vancouver
Island University), has certain copyright restrictions. For information please
use the following link: Copyright. For
comments or question please contact Ian
Johnston. Last revised January 2009.
If you would
like to receive the entire text of this work as a Publisher file in order to
produce a small booklet for yourself or for your students, please consult the
following: Publisher
files. A printed paperback edition of this text is available from Richer
Resources Publications.
The
following translation retains Nietzsche’s short quotations and phrases in
languages other than German and includes, immediately after such phrases, an
English translation in the text, placed in italics within square brackets (e.g. [English
translation]). If the quotation is more than a few words long, the English
version is included in the text, and Nietzsche’s original quotation appears in
a note at the end of the translation.
Sometimes,
when there may be some ambiguity about the meaning of a word or phrase in the
original, this text also includes in square brackets a term from Nietzsche’s
German text.
The
endnotes, which provide information about people or quotations mentioned in the
text, have been provided by the translator.
Beyond
Good and Evil, one of the most important works of Friedrich
Nietzsche (1844-1900), was first published in 1886. For a very brief
introduction to Nietzsche see the section on the Life and Work of Friedrich
Nietzsche at the end of this translation.
Contents
Prologue
Part One: On the Prejudices of Philosophers
Part Two: The Free Spirit
Part Three: The Religious Nature
Part Four: Aphorisms and Interludes
Part Five: The Natural History of Morals
Part Six: We Scholars
Part Seven: Our Virtues
Part Eight: Peoples and Fatherlands
Part Nine: What is Noble
Aftersong
Part One: On the Prejudices of Philosophers
Part Two: The Free Spirit
Part Three: The Religious Nature
Part Four: Aphorisms and Interludes
Part Five: The Natural History of Morals
Part Six: We Scholars
Part Seven: Our Virtues
Part Eight: Peoples and Fatherlands
Part Nine: What is Noble
Aftersong
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
“An unqualified cultural success” | IP Journal
“An unqualified cultural success” | IP Journal
IP: You have written The German Genius, which highlights the many essential German contributions to intellectual life and scientific progress in the 18th and 19th centuries. Where did the inspiration for the project come from?
Watson: I am fascinated by the fact that, so far as I know, there is no theory, or book, which explores in a systematic way the link—if there is one—between cultural history and political history. Maybe the link just doesn’t exist. My attention was drawn to this by Isaiah Berlin who noted that he had lived a long, happy, and productive life throughout the twentieth century while political mayhem was going on all around him. He was right. You can say this a fortiori about Germany. Since 1750, the death of Bach and the birth of the modern age, Germany has been an unqualified success culturally but hardly so politically. Look at the Weimar period: as Walter Laqueur and Fritz Stern say, it was wonderful culturally, a disaster politically. I can’t explain it and I don’t know who can.
IP: As someone who has written extensively about the “German genius,” could you explain what it is and what makes it specifically German?
Watson: I did not set out to explain the German genius but to describe it. However, some elements seem plain. The pietistic background, a form of high seriousness. This high seriousness was adopted by many sons of pastors, who became cultural figures of one sort or another (but not pastors). The fact that Germany was an agglomeration of many small states mattered too, in that it meant she had fifty universities when England had two. Many of these were small but the large number created competition and was helped by the practice of courts sponsoring poor but bright boys. Germany had far more intellectual mobility than anywhere else for at least the first 50 years of the 19th century, and maybe longer. This meant three good things, at least: a highly educated civil service; the appeal of the new sciences was more enthusiastically received early on; a public for high culture, which is our word for middle class culture. Amazingly, this still exists more in Germany than anywhere, even after all that has happened. Another disjunction between politics and culture. I think German inwardness really comes from Kant and Nietzsche; their achievements, looking in, were so massive that none of us have quite gotten over them. But of course it had very unhealthy aspects later on, not just Fichte but Schopenhauer and people like Paul Lagarde. I don’t think inwardness is a good thing in the long run—empiricism has been more fruitful—and it is certainly not good for a people to think of themselves as “more inward” than others. As I say in the book, the stereotypes we have of ourselves can be as dangerous as those we have of others.
But Germany wasn’t only inward. Marx and Engels weren’t inward, or all the scientists that made the 19th century their own. The poets and musicians were, but then all poets and musicians are inward, of whatever nationality. Gordon Craig and Heinrich Mann both had a point when they criticized German intellectuals for putting inward culture before outward politics (the old Kultur/Zivilisation division).
IP: After World War II, Germany had a unique international “image problem,” to put it very mildly. In the aftermath of the Holocaust and other atrocities committed during the war, West Germany reinvented itself as a civilian power that relies on soft power as opposed to military might.
Watson: I don’t actually think that Germany has much soft power. It has no military power but it does have economic power, and I wouldn’t call that “soft.” I don’t think many people in Britain are knowledgeable about German soft power—otherwise there would not have been the need to hold a “branding Germany” conference at the Goethe Institute in London a few years ago. I think the whole point—and hence my book—is that the “new” Germany has not yet broken through to the general public, beyond its sheer economic strength.
IP: What makes Germany culturally and politically attractive? How would you describe Germany’s “cultural charisma”?
Watson: I don’t think many people do think it is culturally attractive—this is why ambassador Thomas Matussek went on about it so much when he was in London. I think the German Green Party is attractive, because it is the only party in the world devoted to these issues and most people know, deep down, that this is the big issue of the future, bigger even than terrorism. Similarly, I don’t think Germany has cultural charisma, beyond its economic strength: this too is the problem and again, hence my book.
Its cultural power is limited by two factors, I would say. The first factor is history. Because of two world wars, people simply don’t know German history in enough detail to recognize what German culture is. The second is language. For example, there is a widespread view that the Germans aren’t funny. But since only 1 per cent of British pupils are fluent in German (as opposed to 25 per cent of German pupils who are fluent in English) how on earth can they possibly know what German wit is when they can’t understand it?
IP: Does it matter that fewer people are learning German as a foreign language today? Can the German genius continue to enrich intellectual life in the West if no one speaks German?
Watson: Of course it matters that people aren’t learning German. It matters aesthetically, economically, politically; you can’t be a proper cosmopolitan without speaking at least one other language.
Because people don’t speak German, they are not aware of the enormous caesura that took place in Germany in 1968, when Germany changed, when the younger generation took on the older generation and really began to complete what Winkler calls “its long road west.” People outside Germany, especially in the Anglophone countries, are aware of the Green movement but have no real idea of how important it is, how much it sets Germany apart.
But Germany is in many ways more comfortable with itself these days than, say, France, on the question of language. While the French fret about the invasion of anglicisms into their language, the Germans have taken a more pragmatic view. For example, since English is incontrovertibly the language of science, some German universities now teach PhD programs in English. This is very self-confident and means that, if the German language doesn’t spread, at least German people will across the intellectual world, especially in science. And the statistics are international: take a look at the recent publication of the leading universities in the world—Germany has more universities in the top 200 than France (and there are still more German-speaking Swiss universities in the top 200). People who matter are aware of these figures.
IP: Is German nationalism a bad thing? And do you feel that Germany has moved beyond its Nazi past?
Watson: I think all nationalism is a bad thing. Now is the time to embrace cosmopolitanism. American pragmatists, like Richard Rorty, are right: we must expand the human community, to make it as inclusive as possible. That is why the mullahs are going against the tide of history.
Of course I feel that Germany has moved beyond its Nazi past—well beyond. As I have written, Germany has embraced the postwar realities more than, say, Britain or France. I am not sure many Britons want to acknowledge or face this fact. You can divide Britons (and other Europeans and Americans) into two: those that have direct dealings with Germany and know all this; and those who don’t know Germany and remain stuck more or less in the past. The very point of my book is that we need to know more about Germany and we need to go beyond the stereotypes. The object of soft power, in my view, is for Germany to confound the expectations which the rest of the world has of her (determined by history) and which she has of herself.
IP: Germany spends less on its military than other European powers such as France and Great Britain. The recent reforms to the Bundeswehr suggest that Germany will continue on this course. Is this model sustainable for Germany?
Watson: I think Germany will eventually have to expand its military budget but in a context where other Europeans are anyway reducing theirs. In the next ten years or so people who fought in World War II will all be dead, and attitudes to German militarism will soften even more. In any case, as I show in the book, the statistics reveal that Germany in the early 20th century was not the most militaristic country: France and the US were. Two world wars have simply played havoc with knowledge levels and it takes time to go back and clean up.
IP: In the 19th century, Germany’s technical universities were world-renowned. In the early 20th century, Germany boasted some of the world’s most influential philosophers and social scientists. What do you see as Germany’s predominant contribution to the world in the 21st century?
Watson: In the 21st century the German Max Planck institutes will consolidate their growing role in science, in genetics, in biology generally, in physics. In philosophy, people like Axel Honneth will take over from where Habermas leaves off. Habermas is a good case in point. He is probably the best contemporary philosopher—vastly prolific—but is unknown generally in comparison to the pope, with whom he has written a book.
IP: Has Germany played its cards right? Is there anything missing from its cultural approach on the world stage?
Watson: I don’t think Germany has played its cards badly. It could probably do more in the field of popular entertainment, to help spread its soft power. The Berlin Philharmonic comes to London and New York. Is there any way Bayreuth could come? Or a version of the Munich Oktoberfest? Martin Roth has just arrived from Dresden at the V&A in London, but no song and dance has been made. The White Ribbon, The Lives of Others, and Goodbye Lenin went down very well in Britain. More please.
Interview conducted by Colin M. Adams and Henning Hoff.
PETER WATSON is an intellectual historian and the author of several books. His most recent work, The German Genius, was published in 2010.
“An unqualified cultural success”
Historian and author Peter Watson on the “German genius”
02/11/2011
Category: Culture, Government and Society, Germany, Western Europe, Europe
Peter Watson’s recent book, The German Genius, explores Germany’s rich cultural and intellectual contributions. But what does Germany have to offer today? And does it have enough soft power to make up for its military deficiencies? He sat down with IP to discuss German soft power and why it is time to look beyond its spotted political history.
Watson: I am fascinated by the fact that, so far as I know, there is no theory, or book, which explores in a systematic way the link—if there is one—between cultural history and political history. Maybe the link just doesn’t exist. My attention was drawn to this by Isaiah Berlin who noted that he had lived a long, happy, and productive life throughout the twentieth century while political mayhem was going on all around him. He was right. You can say this a fortiori about Germany. Since 1750, the death of Bach and the birth of the modern age, Germany has been an unqualified success culturally but hardly so politically. Look at the Weimar period: as Walter Laqueur and Fritz Stern say, it was wonderful culturally, a disaster politically. I can’t explain it and I don’t know who can.
IP: As someone who has written extensively about the “German genius,” could you explain what it is and what makes it specifically German?
Watson: I did not set out to explain the German genius but to describe it. However, some elements seem plain. The pietistic background, a form of high seriousness. This high seriousness was adopted by many sons of pastors, who became cultural figures of one sort or another (but not pastors). The fact that Germany was an agglomeration of many small states mattered too, in that it meant she had fifty universities when England had two. Many of these were small but the large number created competition and was helped by the practice of courts sponsoring poor but bright boys. Germany had far more intellectual mobility than anywhere else for at least the first 50 years of the 19th century, and maybe longer. This meant three good things, at least: a highly educated civil service; the appeal of the new sciences was more enthusiastically received early on; a public for high culture, which is our word for middle class culture. Amazingly, this still exists more in Germany than anywhere, even after all that has happened. Another disjunction between politics and culture. I think German inwardness really comes from Kant and Nietzsche; their achievements, looking in, were so massive that none of us have quite gotten over them. But of course it had very unhealthy aspects later on, not just Fichte but Schopenhauer and people like Paul Lagarde. I don’t think inwardness is a good thing in the long run—empiricism has been more fruitful—and it is certainly not good for a people to think of themselves as “more inward” than others. As I say in the book, the stereotypes we have of ourselves can be as dangerous as those we have of others.
But Germany wasn’t only inward. Marx and Engels weren’t inward, or all the scientists that made the 19th century their own. The poets and musicians were, but then all poets and musicians are inward, of whatever nationality. Gordon Craig and Heinrich Mann both had a point when they criticized German intellectuals for putting inward culture before outward politics (the old Kultur/Zivilisation division).
IP: After World War II, Germany had a unique international “image problem,” to put it very mildly. In the aftermath of the Holocaust and other atrocities committed during the war, West Germany reinvented itself as a civilian power that relies on soft power as opposed to military might.
Watson: I don’t actually think that Germany has much soft power. It has no military power but it does have economic power, and I wouldn’t call that “soft.” I don’t think many people in Britain are knowledgeable about German soft power—otherwise there would not have been the need to hold a “branding Germany” conference at the Goethe Institute in London a few years ago. I think the whole point—and hence my book—is that the “new” Germany has not yet broken through to the general public, beyond its sheer economic strength.
IP: What makes Germany culturally and politically attractive? How would you describe Germany’s “cultural charisma”?
Watson: I don’t think many people do think it is culturally attractive—this is why ambassador Thomas Matussek went on about it so much when he was in London. I think the German Green Party is attractive, because it is the only party in the world devoted to these issues and most people know, deep down, that this is the big issue of the future, bigger even than terrorism. Similarly, I don’t think Germany has cultural charisma, beyond its economic strength: this too is the problem and again, hence my book.
Its cultural power is limited by two factors, I would say. The first factor is history. Because of two world wars, people simply don’t know German history in enough detail to recognize what German culture is. The second is language. For example, there is a widespread view that the Germans aren’t funny. But since only 1 per cent of British pupils are fluent in German (as opposed to 25 per cent of German pupils who are fluent in English) how on earth can they possibly know what German wit is when they can’t understand it?
IP: Does it matter that fewer people are learning German as a foreign language today? Can the German genius continue to enrich intellectual life in the West if no one speaks German?
Watson: Of course it matters that people aren’t learning German. It matters aesthetically, economically, politically; you can’t be a proper cosmopolitan without speaking at least one other language.
Because people don’t speak German, they are not aware of the enormous caesura that took place in Germany in 1968, when Germany changed, when the younger generation took on the older generation and really began to complete what Winkler calls “its long road west.” People outside Germany, especially in the Anglophone countries, are aware of the Green movement but have no real idea of how important it is, how much it sets Germany apart.
But Germany is in many ways more comfortable with itself these days than, say, France, on the question of language. While the French fret about the invasion of anglicisms into their language, the Germans have taken a more pragmatic view. For example, since English is incontrovertibly the language of science, some German universities now teach PhD programs in English. This is very self-confident and means that, if the German language doesn’t spread, at least German people will across the intellectual world, especially in science. And the statistics are international: take a look at the recent publication of the leading universities in the world—Germany has more universities in the top 200 than France (and there are still more German-speaking Swiss universities in the top 200). People who matter are aware of these figures.
IP: Is German nationalism a bad thing? And do you feel that Germany has moved beyond its Nazi past?
Watson: I think all nationalism is a bad thing. Now is the time to embrace cosmopolitanism. American pragmatists, like Richard Rorty, are right: we must expand the human community, to make it as inclusive as possible. That is why the mullahs are going against the tide of history.
Of course I feel that Germany has moved beyond its Nazi past—well beyond. As I have written, Germany has embraced the postwar realities more than, say, Britain or France. I am not sure many Britons want to acknowledge or face this fact. You can divide Britons (and other Europeans and Americans) into two: those that have direct dealings with Germany and know all this; and those who don’t know Germany and remain stuck more or less in the past. The very point of my book is that we need to know more about Germany and we need to go beyond the stereotypes. The object of soft power, in my view, is for Germany to confound the expectations which the rest of the world has of her (determined by history) and which she has of herself.
IP: Germany spends less on its military than other European powers such as France and Great Britain. The recent reforms to the Bundeswehr suggest that Germany will continue on this course. Is this model sustainable for Germany?
Watson: I think Germany will eventually have to expand its military budget but in a context where other Europeans are anyway reducing theirs. In the next ten years or so people who fought in World War II will all be dead, and attitudes to German militarism will soften even more. In any case, as I show in the book, the statistics reveal that Germany in the early 20th century was not the most militaristic country: France and the US were. Two world wars have simply played havoc with knowledge levels and it takes time to go back and clean up.
IP: In the 19th century, Germany’s technical universities were world-renowned. In the early 20th century, Germany boasted some of the world’s most influential philosophers and social scientists. What do you see as Germany’s predominant contribution to the world in the 21st century?
Watson: In the 21st century the German Max Planck institutes will consolidate their growing role in science, in genetics, in biology generally, in physics. In philosophy, people like Axel Honneth will take over from where Habermas leaves off. Habermas is a good case in point. He is probably the best contemporary philosopher—vastly prolific—but is unknown generally in comparison to the pope, with whom he has written a book.
IP: Has Germany played its cards right? Is there anything missing from its cultural approach on the world stage?
Watson: I don’t think Germany has played its cards badly. It could probably do more in the field of popular entertainment, to help spread its soft power. The Berlin Philharmonic comes to London and New York. Is there any way Bayreuth could come? Or a version of the Munich Oktoberfest? Martin Roth has just arrived from Dresden at the V&A in London, but no song and dance has been made. The White Ribbon, The Lives of Others, and Goodbye Lenin went down very well in Britain. More please.
Interview conducted by Colin M. Adams and Henning Hoff.
PETER WATSON is an intellectual historian and the author of several books. His most recent work, The German Genius, was published in 2010.
oops! History should be rewritten!!!
Fashion history needs to be rewritten: 600-year-old bra found in Austrian castle
Since Adam gave one of his ribs to create Eve, women came with boobs…and with those came bras.
Although most aborigines civilizations never used a bra to hold up their boobs, more developed societies had some sort of accessory for that purpose, but bras were thought to be only 100 year-old.
Discovered on Wednesday by some archeologists from the University of Innsbruck, Austria, in a castle from the Middle Ages, the linen bra –or what is left of it– you see in the photo is the proof that some 600 years ago women wore bras.
The finding has surprised fashion experts who were under the assumption that bras only were invented a little more than a century ago as women abandoned the tight corsets.
Instead it appears that fashion history needs to be re-written since bras came first, followed by corsets and back to bras again.
Archeologists couldn’t believe what they’ve discovered and wanted to carbon date the bra before releasing the news.
“Four linen textiles resemble modern-time bras” with distinct cups and one in particular looks like today’s version, it said, with “two broad shoulder straps and a possible back strap, not preserved but indicated by partially torn edges of the cups onto which it was attached.”
Although what you see seems pretty unattractive and plain, researchers said the bras were intricately decorated with lace and other ornamentation, suggesting they were also meant to please a suitor.
Fashion history needs to be rewritten: 600-year-old bra found in Austrian castle
Since Adam gave one of his ribs to create Eve, women came with boobs…and with those came bras.
Although most aborigines civilizations never used a bra to hold up their boobs, more developed societies had some sort of accessory for that purpose, but bras were thought to be only 100 year-old.
Discovered on Wednesday by some archeologists from the University of Innsbruck, Austria, in a castle from the Middle Ages, the linen bra –or what is left of it– you see in the photo is the proof that some 600 years ago women wore bras.
The finding has surprised fashion experts who were under the assumption that bras only were invented a little more than a century ago as women abandoned the tight corsets.
Instead it appears that fashion history needs to be re-written since bras came first, followed by corsets and back to bras again.
Archeologists couldn’t believe what they’ve discovered and wanted to carbon date the bra before releasing the news.
“Four linen textiles resemble modern-time bras” with distinct cups and one in particular looks like today’s version, it said, with “two broad shoulder straps and a possible back strap, not preserved but indicated by partially torn edges of the cups onto which it was attached.”
Although what you see seems pretty unattractive and plain, researchers said the bras were intricately decorated with lace and other ornamentation, suggesting they were also meant to please a suitor.
Die deutsche Seele (Thea Dorn y Richard Wagner)
 |
| Thea Dorn |
Si algo define al"alma alemana"es precisamente el modo de pensarse a sí misma. La escritora Thea Dorn ha logrado con"El alma alemana"un best seller. El libro explora y analiza nociones y estados de ánimo"típicos alemanes". Exhaustivamente, de la A a la Z.
 |
| El Alma Alemana, Thea Dorn y Richard Wagner |
Monday, July 30, 2012
Justo Sierra presencia el cuchi cuchi
Vimos luego el cuchi cuchi,
la famosa danza del vientre, bailada o expresada, diremos, por una
egipcia de grandes ojos urentes, negros como la hoguera del pecado, de
gran boca roja, a manera de herida abierta, y espantosamente sensual
sobre la dentadura de marfil africano. A compás de un rítmico movimiento
de caderas, el vientre desnudo comienza por plegarse en ondas
concéntricas y acaba por verdaderas gesticulaciones convulsivas que le
dan un siniestro aspecto de mascarón de fauno epiléptico; no he visto
nada ni más curioso ni más horrible. A seguida una blondina y enjuta
americana se presentó a hacer lo mismo, y a pesar de sus abominables
contosrsiones, no logró sino hacer reír; era la caricatura odiosa y
repugnante del cuchi cuchi.
No, los cabellos rubios no casan sino con el sensualismo inconsciente
de Ofelia o con el pecado sentimental de Gretchen, no con este
animalismo erótico de las regiones que el desierto lame con su lengua de
fuego.
Justo Sierra, En tierra yankee. En el tomo 6 de las Obras completas, UNAM, 1948, p. 174
Justo Sierra presencia el cuchi cuchi [de aquí lo tomé]
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
De nuestro amigo Quinoff & más
[poesía] DEHMEL
Noche transfigurada(fragmentos)
Dos personas atraviesan un desolado y frío bosque; la luna les acompaña, y ellos la observan.
La luna pasea por los altos robles;
ninguna nube opaca la luz del cielo, donde se extienden negras ramas.
La voz de una mujer dice:
«Llevo un niño, pero no es tuyo,
camino a tu lado en pecado.
Cometí una grave ofensa contra mí misma.
Creí que ya no podría ser feliz
y aun así sentía el fuerte anhelo
de sentir la plenitud, la felicidad de ser madre.
Así fue como me atreví;
dejé que mi sexo se estremeciera,
tomado por un hombre extraño.
Ahora la vida cobra su venganza:
ahora que a ti, oh, a ti te he encontrado.»
Ella camina con paso torpe.
Levanta la vista; la luna se acerca.
Su mirada sombría se ahoga en la luz.
La voz de un hombre dice:
«Ese niño que has concebido
no debe oprimir tu alma,
¡mira el claro resplandor del universo!
La gloria rodea todas las cosas;
tú vas conmigo a la deriva en un mar frío,
pero un calor peculiar vibra
desde ti hacia mí, y desde mí hacia ti.
Esa llama transfigurará al pequeño,
que darás a luz como si fuese mío;
tú me has traído la gloria,
me has convertido en un niño.»
Él la toma de sus fuertes caderas.
Su aliento se besa en el aire.
Dos personas atraviesan una imponente y clara noche.
La luna pasea por los altos robles;
ninguna nube opaca la luz del cielo, donde se extienden negras ramas.
La voz de una mujer dice:
«Llevo un niño, pero no es tuyo,
camino a tu lado en pecado.
Cometí una grave ofensa contra mí misma.
Creí que ya no podría ser feliz
y aun así sentía el fuerte anhelo
de sentir la plenitud, la felicidad de ser madre.
Así fue como me atreví;
dejé que mi sexo se estremeciera,
tomado por un hombre extraño.
Ahora la vida cobra su venganza:
ahora que a ti, oh, a ti te he encontrado.»
Ella camina con paso torpe.
Levanta la vista; la luna se acerca.
Su mirada sombría se ahoga en la luz.
La voz de un hombre dice:
«Ese niño que has concebido
no debe oprimir tu alma,
¡mira el claro resplandor del universo!
La gloria rodea todas las cosas;
tú vas conmigo a la deriva en un mar frío,
pero un calor peculiar vibra
desde ti hacia mí, y desde mí hacia ti.
Esa llama transfigurará al pequeño,
que darás a luz como si fuese mío;
tú me has traído la gloria,
me has convertido en un niño.»
Él la toma de sus fuertes caderas.
Su aliento se besa en el aire.
Dos personas atraviesan una imponente y clara noche.
Richard Dehmel
«El abrazo», detalle — Gustav Klimt
Este poema inspiró en 1899 la temprana obra maestra homónima de Arnold Schönberg, Verklärte Nacht Opus 4, la más lírica de todas sus obras, escrita en tres semanas luego de conocer a Mathilde von Zemlinsky, su futura esposa. Esta pieza, concebida originalmente como Sexteto de cuerdas en un solo movimiento, fue arreglada por el compositor para orquesta de cuerdas en 1917, revisándola de nuevo en 1943.-
******************======================*******************
Transfigured Night (Verklärte Nacht) by Richard Dehmel
Two people walk through a bare, cold grove;
The moon races along with them, they look into it.
The moon races over tall oaks,
No cloud obscures the light from the sky,
Into which the black points of the boughs reach.
A woman’s voice speaks:
I’m carrying a child, and not yours,
I walk in sin beside you.
I have committed a great offense against myself.
I no longer believed I could be happy
And yet I had a strong yearning
For something to fill my life, for the joys of
Motherhood
And for duty; so I committed an effrontery,
So, shuddering, I allowed my sex
To be embraced by a strange man,
And, on top of that, I blessed myself for it.
Now life has taken its revenge:
Now I have met you, oh, you.
She walks with a clumsy gait,
She looks up; the moon is racing along.
Her dark gaze is drowned in light.
A man’s voice speaks:
May the child you conceived
Be no burden to your soul;
Just see how brightly the universe is gleaming!
There’s a glow around everything;
You are floating with me on a cold ocean,
But a special warmth flickers
From you into me, from me into you.
It will transfigure the strange man’s child.
You will bear the child for me, as if it were mine;
You have brought the glow into me,
You have made me like a child myself.
He grasps her around her ample hips.
Their breath kisses in the breeze.
Two people walk through the lofty, bright night.
Verklärte Nacht
Zwei Menschen gehn durch kahlen, kalten Hain;
der Mond läuft mit, sie schaun hinein.
Der Mond läuft über hohe Eichen;
kein Wölkchen trübt das Himmelslicht,
in das die schwarzen Zacken reichen.
Die Stimme eines Weibes spricht:
Dehmel’s ‘Transfigured Night’
By Scott Horton
Gustav Klimt, Der Kuß (The Kiss) (1907-08)
Zwei Menschen gehn durch kahlen, kalten Hain;
der Mond läuft mit, sie schaun hinein.
Der Mond läuft über hohe Eichen;
kein Wölkchen trübt das Himmelslicht,
in das die schwarzen Zacken reichen.
Die Stimme eines Weibes spricht:
Ich trag ein Kind, und nit von Dir,
ich geh in Sünde neben Dir.
Ich hab mich schwer an mir vergangen.
Ich glaubte nicht mehr an ein Glück
und hatte doch ein schwer Verlangen
nach Lebensinhalt, nach Mutterglück
und Pflicht; da hab ich mich erfrecht,
da ließ ich schaudernd mein Geschlecht
von einem fremden Mann umfangen,
und hab mich noch dafür gesegnet.
Nun hat das Leben sich gerächt:
nun bin ich Dir, o Dir, begegnet.
Sie geht mit ungelenkem Schritt.
Sie schaut empor; der Mond läuft mit.
Ihr dunkler Blick ertrinkt in Licht.
Die Stimme eines Mannes spricht:
Das Kind, das Du empfangen hast,
sei Deiner Seele keine Last,
o sieh, wie klar das Weltall schimmert!
Es ist ein Glanz um alles her;
Du treibst mit mir auf kaltem Meer,
doch eine eigne Wärme flimmert
von Dir in mich, von mir in Dich.
Die wird das fremde Kind verklären,
Du wirst es mir, von mir gebären;
Du hast den Glanz in mich gebracht,
Du hast mich selbst zum Kind gemacht.
Er faßt sie um die starken Hüften.
Ihr Atem küßt sich in den Lüften.
Zwei Menschen gehn durch hohe, helle Nacht.
Two figures pass through the bare, cold grove;
the moon accompanies them, they gaze into it.
The moon races above some tall oaks;
No trace of a cloud filters the sky’s light,
into which the dark treetops stretch.
A female voice speaks:
I am carrying a child, and not yours;
I walk in sin beside you.
I have deeply sinned against myself.
I no longer believed in happiness
And yet was full of longing
For a life with meaning, for the joy
And duty of maternity; so I dared
And, quaking, let my sex
Be taken by a stranger,
And was blessed by it.
Now life has taken its revenge,
For now I have met you, yes you.
She takes an awkward step.
She looks up: the moon races alongside her.
Her dark glance is saturated with light.
A male voice speaks:
Let the child you have conceived
Be no trouble to your soul.
How brilliantly the universe shines!
It casts a luminosity on everything;
you float with me upon a cold sea,
but a peculiar warmth glimmers
from you to me, and then from me to you.
Thus is transfigured the child of another man;
You will bear it for me, as my own;
You have brought your luminosity to me,
You have made me a child myself.
He clasps her round her strong hips.
Their kisses mingle breath in the night air.
Two humans pass through the high, clear night.
–Richard Dehmel, Verklärte Nacht first published in Weib und Welt (1896)(S.H. transl.)
Listen to Arnold Schönberg’s stunning instrumental realization of this poem in his sextet for two violins, 2 violas and 2 cellos, “Verklärte Nacht,” op. 4.
Richard Dehmel is an important figure of the German Symbolist period, associated with the aesthetics of the Jugendstil, but hardly known in the English-speaking world. His poetry is inventive and pushed the boundaries of the stifling morality of the Wilhelmine period that Nietzsche ridiculed so brilliantly. This may, thanks especially to Schönberg, be his best known work. It was published in a poetry collection from 1896 that also included Venus Consolatrix, whose erotic language was sufficient to rouse the censors. Richard Strauss, Max Reger, Kurt Weill and Alma Mahler-Werfel all also composed his poems as Lieder.
I have always thought that Gustav Klimt’s Der Kuß (The Kiss) (1907-08) was also inspired by this poem. Indeed the ties to it are very powerful. This may be Klimt’s best known painting, executed in an audaciously conceived manner. It does not reproduce well, and if you’re in Vienna, it is worth the trip to the Österreichische Galerie in the Belvedere Palace to see it. The background is a pale but complex metallic field which looks like bronze, with bursts that appear to signify stars, while the field surrounding the couple embracing is dazzling gold leaf. The masculine figure is decorated with austere black-and-white rectangles, while the female figure is covered with patches that look like millefiori Venetian paperweights, a profusion of springtime colors. The dramatic stylization of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the natural, highly erotic posture of the central characters. This seems a very conscious realization of the poem’s mysterious central line: “wie klar das Weltall schimmert!” (”how brilliantly the universe shines!”) The kiss itself is a representation of the poem’s final lines. The kiss is a passage of breath between two souls, an exchange which melds into the night air itself. This is the most enduring and fascinating of the transformations which are the poem’s subject, as well as Klimt’s painting and Schönberg’s strangely passionate music. Dehmel’s, Klimt’s and Schönberg’s works each stand alone and can be appreciated in their own right. Together, however, they make up a Gesamtkunstwerk in which the same thematic material is worked with equal genius in poetry, representational art and music.
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