With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demandes dispatch: How much is to be done? And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour? La ce?
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Da, a mea e! Text: Ode to Evening. We are slaves of Time.
Text: Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. FrageStellung: There is one stanza in this poem that you must learn by heart: find out which!
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Afte rwards explain its meaning. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team afield! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure: Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. Cresc laudele-nalt, din mari cuvinte. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Re-nvie pompa colbul din sicriu, Sau surda Moarte-aude imnul oare? There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreaths its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. The next with dirges due in sar array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode. There they alike in trembling hope repose, The bosom of his Father and his God.
Text: John Barleycorn. FrageStellung: Who was Robert Burns? Who was John Barleycorn?
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John Bob-de-orz. There was three kings into the east, Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim; They heaved in John Barleycorn, There let him sink or swim. John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble enterprise; For if you do but taste his blood, Twill make your courage rise. Explain in detail. No more, O Death! Text: My Father Was a Farmer. My Father was a Farmer. My father was a farmer Upon the Carrick border, And carefully he bred me In decency and order. No help, nor hope, nor view had I, Nor person to befriend me; So I must toil, and sweat, and broil, And labour to sustain me.
To plough and sow, to reap and mow, My father bred me early; For one, he said, to labour bred, Was a match for Fortune fairly. All you who follow wealth and power With unremitting ardour, The more in this you look for bliss, You live your view the farther. Text: The Little Black Boy. My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O, my soul is white! White as an angel is the English child, But I am black, as if bereaved of light. Sunt negru; o, dar sufletul mi-e alb.
And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love; And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove. Text: Reeds of Innocence.
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How do you go about learning both English and Poetics by comparing the Original with the Translation? Is rhyme essential in the translation of this — only apparently — very limpid text? Would it ha ve the same effect if you disregarded the ryhyme in translation? Does the rhyme support a symbol, or is the poem all about m usicality? Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: Pipe a song about a Lamb!
So I piped with merry cheer. Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer! So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. Text: The Garden of Love. How does the translator adapt her words to the poetic symbol, in comparison with the original? Text: Testament literar.
Translator: FrageStellung: Testament literar. Translation required. Translator: FrageStellung: Have a go, and translate this short poem yourself: it is not at all difficult!
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Text: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. One word You can describe it in only one word, if you scrutinize the two stanzas together. It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. Ce vrei? He holds him with his skinny hand, There was a ship, quoth he. Hold off! Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye — The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years child: The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot chuse but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the light-house top.
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The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon — The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon.
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The bride hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy. The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot chuse but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts Did send a dismal sheen: Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — The ice was all between. The ice did split with a thunder-fit; The helmsman steered us through!
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In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perched for vespers nine; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white Moon-shine. God save thee, ancient Mariner, From the fiends, that plague thee thus! Text: My Heart Leaps Up. FrageStellung: What is this particular English poet famous for, in the first place? My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky. Text: The Dream. Translator: V. FrageStellung: Retranslate one stanza of your choice into plain elegant prose, using words quite different from those of the translator Is not the past all shadow? What are they? Creations of the mind?
The mind can make Substances, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
I would recall a vision which I dreamed Perchance in sleep for in itself a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour. But she in these fond feelings had no share: Her sighs were not for him; to her he was Even as a brother but no more; twas much, For brotherless she was, save in the name Her infant friendship had bestowed on him; Herself the solitary scion left Of a time-honoured race.
It was a name Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not and why? De ce? There was an ancient mansion, and before Its walls there was a steed caparisoned: Within an antique Oratory stood The Boy of whom I spake; he was alone, And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned His bowed head on his hands and shook, as twere With a convulsion then rose again, And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear What he had written, but he shed no tears. And he did calm himself, and fix his brow Into a kind of quiet: as he paused, The Lady of his love re-entered there; She was serene and smiling then, and yet She knew she was by him beloved; she knew For quickly comes such knowledge that his heart Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw That he was wretched, but she saw not all.
The Lady of his love was wed with One Who did not love her better: in her home, A thousand leagues from his, her native home, She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy, Daughters and sons of Beauty, but behold! Upon her face there was a tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.
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