Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke was one of the great German poets of the last century. I came to him early, when I was twenty-one. I did several versions of his poems for a Fine Arts class, from the original translations of J. B. Leishman. Leishman was named the official translator by Rilke's estate.

I've been carrying one of my versions with me for over thirty years. I love the poem, and I still find resonances in it. The poem is untitled in Leishman's translation, and I left my version untitled as well.


I saw the world in the face of a woman,
but that glimpse left in an instant.
I thought the world was outside me,
it couldn't be understood.

When I held the cup, why didn't I
drink from her full face
the world that was so near?

Oh, I did!
I drank and drank.
But I was so full of the world already
I overflowed.

(Copyright 1975, 2006, Allan Cooper)

Lorca

I've been revising a few of my translations of Federico Garcia Lorca, and feel it's time to post a few. Lorca was one of the greatest Spanish poets of the last century, and as I mentioned in an earlier posting, he was gunned down by one of Franco's hit men. Lorca was just 37.

VILLAGE

A cross
all alone on a bare mountain.
Clear water
and hundred-year-old olive trees.
In the alleyways
men with covered faces,
and on the rooftops
weathervanes turning,
endlessly
turning.
O village of loss,
deep in the Andalusia of weeping!


WHAT'S TRUE

It's so hard to love you
like this!

Because of this love
the air hurts me, and my heart,
and my hat.

Who will buy my
ribbon and the grief
of white cotton, to make
handkerchiefs with?

It's so hard
to love you like this!


GHAZAL OF THE FLIGHT

How many times I've lost myself at sea
with my ears full of freshly cut flowers,
with my tongue filled with love and anguish.
Many times I've lost myself at sea
as I've lost myself in the hearts of certain children.

There's not one person who when they give a kiss
doesn't feel the smile of faceless people.
And no one who touches a new born child
will forget the motionless skulls of horses.

Because roses search the forehead
for a tough landscape of bone
and a man's hands have no other job
than to imitate the roots beneath the earth.

As I lose myself in the hearts of certain children,
hundreds of times I've lost myself at sea.
And I'm unaware of the water as I search
for a death where the light will consume me entirely.


GRANADA AND 1850

From my room
I can hear the fountain.

One sprig of grape vine
and a shaft of sunlight.
They point toward a place
inside my heart.

Clouds are moving
through the August air.
And I dream that I am not dreaming
inside the fountain.


(Copyright 2006, Allan Cooper)

Lin Chu's Last Poems

The Lin Chu booklet, The Black Swan, is now ready. It can be ordered directly from me for $25.00 at allan-cooper@excite.com. This edition includes 20 poems, and is limited to 30 numbered and signed copies. The booklet is printed on acid free, archival paper.

I was going through my papers at the cabin the other day, and found 10 more finished versions of the last poems of Lin Chu. These are elegant little poems that resemble haiku. Eventually I'll collect all 75 of my versions under one cover. In the meantime the reader can find a number of the poems in Heaven of Small Moments (Broken Jaw Press, 1998), Singing the Flowers Open (Gaspereau Press, 2001) and the new publication, The Black Swan (Owl's Head Press).

I've decided to include the 10 Lin Chu with this post, just so everyone can see what they look like. The "Little Cricket" poem I posted earlier appears at the end.


I saw you again today.
Your face still holds
the same clear lines of longing.

*

I want you to understand
I sleep alone
and think only of you.

*

When you're gone
this intensity
lingers on for hours.

*

I see faces in clouds,
in blossoms opening,
and each of them is yours.

*

When you're gone
I feel the sorrow
of blossoms falling.

*

I trace the creases around your eyes:
life lines
I've followed since my birth.

*

Today I saved an ant,
a spider and a moth.
And all the time I was thinking of you.

*

I saw you once with fireflies in your hair.
I reached out and touched them.
Others thought that I was flirting.

*

The wild strawberries are so intense
and fragile
I can't reach down and lift them to my mouth.

*

My desire
tangles
in the sound of your voice.

*

Little cricket, you called me.
My voice followed you
all the way home.


(Copyright 2006, Allan Cooper)