Woke up this morning to a rainy autumn day, bits of this poem lilting through my head. As Andreas (who graciously supplied the full text – many thanks) said, not the best way to start a day, but a great poem nonetheless…
Und als sie einander acht Jahre kannten
(und man darf sagen: sie kannten sich gut),
da kam ihre Liebe plötzlich abhanden.
so wie anderen Leuten ein Stock oder Hut.
Sie waren traurig, betrugen sich heiter,
versuchten Küsse, als ob nichts sei,
und sahen sich an und wußten nicht weiter.
Da weinte sie schließlich. Und er stand dabei.
Vom Fenster aus konnte man Schiffen winken.
Er sagte, es wäre schon Viertel nach Vier
und Zeit, irgendwo Kaffee zu trinken.
Nebenan übte ein Mensch Klavier.
Sie gingen ins kleinste Café am Ort
und rührten in ihren Tassen.
Am Abend saßen sie immer noch dort.
Sie saßen allein, und sie sprachen kein Wort
und konnten es einfach nicht fassen.
– Erich Kästner
[I’ll translate later, if the mood strikes me. If you absolutely must know what it means, ask me nicely and maybe I’ll do it now.]
Louisa 23 October 2001 at 12:54
Not the greatest translation, but I felt like it, so here it is:
And when they had known one another for eight years
(and one can say they knew each other well),
They suddenly misplaced their love
As other people would a cane or a hat.
They were sad, deceived themselves gaily,
tried kisses as if nothing were wrong
and looked at each other and didn’t know what else to do.
Then finally she cried. And he stood there.
Out the window one could see ships.
He said, it’s already quarter after four
and time to go drink a coffee somewhere.
Next door somebody practiced piano.
They went to the smallest cafe in town
and stirred around in their cups.
In the evening they were still sitting there.
They sat alone, and they said not a word
and they simply could not catch it again.
Andreas 23 October 2001 at 14:29
I am getting a bit scared that Louisa is rediscovering her german roots to the detriment of her inherent Yank-ness 🙂
So, in order to restore insanity here’s another bit of rabbit sex.
1> The rabbit is Nick’s bitch:
http://www.rathergood.com/bunny.swf
2> Mick is the rabbit’s bitch: http://www.rathergood.com/mickey.swf
stephen 23 October 2001 at 16:51
i like the translation, actually.
What a simple but affecting poem.
I think its simplicity makes it so impactful. Thank you for sharing.