Translation Archive
Hekuba

Manchmal geht sie durch die Nacht der Erde,
Sie, das schwerste ärmste Herz der Erde.
Wehet langsam unter Laub und Sternen,
Weht durch Weg und Tür und Atemwandern,
Alte Mutter, elendste der Mütter.

So viel Milch war einst in diesen Brüsten,
So viel Söhne gab es zu betreuen.
Weh dahin! — Nun weht sie nachts auf Erden,
Alte Mutter, Kern der Welt, erloschen,
Wie ein kalter Stern sich weiterwälzet.

Unter Stern und Laub weht sie auf Erden
Nachts durch tausend ausgelöschte Zimmer,
Wo die Mütter schlafen, junge Weiber,
Weht vorüber an den Gitterbetten,
An dem hellen runden Schlaf der Kinder.

Manchmal hält am Haupt sie eines Bettes,
Und sie sieht sich um mit solchem Wehe,
Sie, ein dürftiger Wind, von Schmerz gestaltet,
Daß der Schmerz in ihr Gestalt erst findet,
Und das Licht in toten Lampen aufweint.

Und die Frauen steigen aus den Retten,
Wie sie fortweht, nackten schweren Schrittes,
Sitzen lange an dem Schlaf der Kinder,
Schauen langsam in die Zimmertrübe,
Tränen habend unbegrißnen Wehes.


Franz Werfel



Hecuba

Sometimes she passes through this world’s night,
She, its heaviest heart, its neediest one,
Drifting slowly under leaf and star,
Through hall and door and lost breath,
Ancient mother, the most wretched of mothers.

So much milk was once in these breasts.
So many sons were there to nurse.
All that woe! — Now each night she floats to earth,
Old mother, seed of the world, going out
The way a cold star travels on.

Under star and leaf she drifts to the ground,
Each night through thousands of darkened rooms,
Where mothers sleep, the young wives,
Drifting over the crib rails and bars,
On that bright globe of a child’s sleep.

Sometimes she pauses above the headboard,
And she peers down with such sadness
As the light in the dying lamp weeps upward,
She, an emaciated wind shaped by pain,
Pain that took its form in her first.

The women rise from their beds
As she drifts away, heavy bare footsteps,
And sit long into the sleep of their children,
Staring slowly into the roomful of dark,
Shedding tears of unimaginable grief.


Translated from the German by James Reidel
JAMES REIDEL has published poems in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, TriQuarterly, Verse, The New Criterion, Ploughshares, Conjunctions, and other journals. His translations of Thomas Bernhard and Ingeborg Bachmann have appeared in The Greensboro Review, Artful Dodge, Painted Bride Quarterly and Web Conjuctions. He is the author of Vanished Act: The Life and Art of Weldon Kees, which was published last spring by the University of Nebraska Press.
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Franz Werfel
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