Levitan, Forest Lake, 1895
The SOLITUDE of the FOREST
Well, in my youth I wore a wreath on my head;
The flowers shone wonderfully,
a magic was in the wreath.
The beautiful wreath pleased Allen,
But who wore him has displeased many;
I fled the yellow man's sin,
I fled into the green forest solitude.
In the forest, in the forest! there I could lead
a free life with ghosts and animals;
Fairies and big game of proud antlers,
they approached me without shyness.
They approached me without hesitation,
you knew that was not a dreadful venture;
That I was no hunter, the deer knew,
That I was not a rational man, the fairy knew.
Of fairy favoring chat only fools -
But like the other dignitaries of the
forest have been gracious to me, indeed
I may confess it manifest.
How have the elves fluttered around me!
A breezy folk! that chatters and chatters!
The look is a little piercing,
promising a sweet but deadly happiness.
Delighted me with Maitanz and Maispiel,
told me court stories, for example:
The scandalous Chronika of
Queen Titania.
When I stood by the brook,
wells emerged from the flood, with their long
silver
veils and fluttering hair, the water bacchantes, the mermaids.
They beat the zither, they played the violins, that
was the great mermaids;
The stances, the melodei,
War sounding, jumping frenzy.
However, at times they were less
humorous, the beautiful children;
At my feet they camped,
the head resting on my knee.
Trallerten, weird romances trilled,
For example, the song of the three Pomerania,
Sang well probably a song of praise to
me and my noble human face.
They sometimes interrupted the singing,
laughing, and asked questionable things.
For example, "Tell us, at what point
The Good Lord created man?
"Does an immortal soul have any one of
you? Is this soul of leather
or stiff canvas? Why
are your people usually so stupid? "
What I gave the answer
I conceal here, but my immortal soul,
Believe me, was never hurt by
what a little mermaid swore.
Graceful and mischievous are mermaids and elves;
Not so the earth spirits, they serve and help
faithful people. Most of the time I loved the
ones called the "Wichtelmännchen".
They wear red coats, long and puffy,
the face is honest, yet bang and snug;
I did not notice that I discovered
why she hid her feet so anxiously.
They have duck feet,
and they imagine that no one knows.
This is a deep wound
I can never ridicule anymore.
Oh heaven! we all, like those dwarves,
we all have something to hide;
No Christian, we suspect, would have discovered
Where our duck foot is.
I never associate with salamanders,
and I learned
very little from other forest ghosts about their activities . They flitted shyly past me at
night like shining shadows.
Are spindly,
close-fitting of child's length, panties and garments,
Of scarlet color , gold-embroidered;
The face sickly, yellowed and oppressed.
A golden little crowned with rubies,
bears on the head every one of them;
Each of them imagines being an
absolute king.
That they do not burn in the fire
is, of course, a feat; I will confess it;
However, the ignominious gnome,
He is not a true fire spirit.
The cleverest forest spirits are the small-tits,
long-bearded little man with short legs,
a finger-long greisen-sex;
Where they come from, you do not know right.
If they
tumble headlong in the moonlight, which calls for concern at Pissewurzeln;
But since she has only done me good,
nothing touches me on her origin.
They taught me little sorceries,
discussing fire, shouting birds,
even picking the herb in the
night of St. John , which makes invisible.
They taught me stars and signs,
riding saddleless on the wind,
also rituals, calling
the dead out of their tomb.
They have also taught me the whistle,
How to beguile the woodpecker Woodpeckers
And to extract from it the showjumping Which
indicates where treasures are hidden.
The words that are murmured at the treasure
ditch, they taught me, they have
explicated everything to me - umsunst!
I never understood treasure-tomb art.
Of course I did not need it,
I did not need it, and I could pay for it.
In Spain
I also had many airy castles, from which I enjoyed the money.
Oh, good time! where full of violins
Heaven hung, where Elven
Races And Nixentanz and
Leprechaun joke Flirts my fairytale heart!
Oh, good time! where the green
triumphal gates seemed to bulge
The trees of the forest - I went along,
crowned, as if I were the victor!
The beautiful time, she is devoured,
And everything has changed since then,
And alas! I robbed the wreath,
Which I carried on my head.
The wreath is taken from my head,
I do not know how it came;
But since the beautiful wreath I miss,
my soul is like a soul.
It stare at scary stupid
larvae of the world! The sky is desolate,
A blue churchyard, dehaired and dumb.
I hunched around in the woods.
In the forest, the elves have disappeared,
hunting horns I hear, barking of dogs;
The deer is hiding in the thicket, which
licks its wounds and tears it.
Where are the mandrels? I think they are
anxiously hidden in clefts of rocks.
Your little friends, I'll come back,
But without wreath and without luck.
Where is the fairy with the long golden hair,
The first beauty that was hold to me?
The oak tree in which she lives, is
sadly defoliated, disheveled by the wind.
The brook rustles drearily like the Styxe;
On the lonely shore sits a mermaid,
deathly pale and mute, like a picture of stone,
Seems to be deep in grief.
Compassionately, I approach her -
Then she gets up and looks at me,
And she flees with horrified expressions,
As if a ghost had appeared to her.
Umberto Limongiello
Well, in my youth I wore a wreath on my head;
The flowers shone wonderfully,
a magic was in the wreath.
The beautiful wreath pleased Allen,
But who wore him has displeased many;
I fled the yellow man's sin,
I fled into the green forest solitude.
In the forest, in the forest! there I could lead
a free life with ghosts and animals;
Fairies and big game of proud antlers,
they approached me without shyness.
They approached me without hesitation,
you knew that was not a dreadful venture;
That I was no hunter, the deer knew,
That I was not a rational man, the fairy knew.
Of fairy favoring chat only fools -
But like the other dignitaries of the
forest have been gracious to me, indeed
I may confess it manifest.
How have the elves fluttered around me!
A breezy folk! that chatters and chatters!
The look is a little piercing,
promising a sweet but deadly happiness.
Delighted me with Maitanz and Maispiel,
told me court stories, for example:
The scandalous Chronika of
Queen Titania.
When I stood by the brook,
wells emerged from the flood, with their long
silver
veils and fluttering hair, the water bacchantes, the mermaids.
They beat the zither, they played the violins, that
was the great mermaids;
The stances, the melodei,
War sounding, jumping frenzy.
However, at times they were less
humorous, the beautiful children;
At my feet they camped,
the head resting on my knee.
Trallerten, weird romances trilled,
For example, the song of the three Pomerania,
Sang well probably a song of praise to
me and my noble human face.
They sometimes interrupted the singing,
laughing, and asked questionable things.
For example, "Tell us, at what point
The Good Lord created man?
"Does an immortal soul have any one of
you? Is this soul of leather
or stiff canvas? Why
are your people usually so stupid? "
What I gave the answer
I conceal here, but my immortal soul,
Believe me, was never hurt by
what a little mermaid swore.
Graceful and mischievous are mermaids and elves;
Not so the earth spirits, they serve and help
faithful people. Most of the time I loved the
ones called the "Wichtelmännchen".
They wear red coats, long and puffy,
the face is honest, yet bang and snug;
I did not notice that I discovered
why she hid her feet so anxiously.
They have duck feet,
and they imagine that no one knows.
This is a deep wound
I can never ridicule anymore.
Oh heaven! we all, like those dwarves,
we all have something to hide;
No Christian, we suspect, would have discovered
Where our duck foot is.
I never associate with salamanders,
and I learned
very little from other forest ghosts about their activities . They flitted shyly past me at
night like shining shadows.
Are spindly,
close-fitting of child's length, panties and garments,
Of scarlet color , gold-embroidered;
The face sickly, yellowed and oppressed.
A golden little crowned with rubies,
bears on the head every one of them;
Each of them imagines being an
absolute king.
That they do not burn in the fire
is, of course, a feat; I will confess it;
However, the ignominious gnome,
He is not a true fire spirit.
The cleverest forest spirits are the small-tits,
long-bearded little man with short legs,
a finger-long greisen-sex;
Where they come from, you do not know right.
If they
tumble headlong in the moonlight, which calls for concern at Pissewurzeln;
But since she has only done me good,
nothing touches me on her origin.
They taught me little sorceries,
discussing fire, shouting birds,
even picking the herb in the
night of St. John , which makes invisible.
They taught me stars and signs,
riding saddleless on the wind,
also rituals, calling
the dead out of their tomb.
They have also taught me the whistle,
How to beguile the woodpecker Woodpeckers
And to extract from it the showjumping Which
indicates where treasures are hidden.
The words that are murmured at the treasure
ditch, they taught me, they have
explicated everything to me - umsunst!
I never understood treasure-tomb art.
Of course I did not need it,
I did not need it, and I could pay for it.
In Spain
I also had many airy castles, from which I enjoyed the money.
Oh, good time! where full of violins
Heaven hung, where Elven
Races And Nixentanz and
Leprechaun joke Flirts my fairytale heart!
Oh, good time! where the green
triumphal gates seemed to bulge
The trees of the forest - I went along,
crowned, as if I were the victor!
The beautiful time, she is devoured,
And everything has changed since then,
And alas! I robbed the wreath,
Which I carried on my head.
The wreath is taken from my head,
I do not know how it came;
But since the beautiful wreath I miss,
my soul is like a soul.
It stare at scary stupid
larvae of the world! The sky is desolate,
A blue churchyard, dehaired and dumb.
I hunched around in the woods.
In the forest, the elves have disappeared,
hunting horns I hear, barking of dogs;
The deer is hiding in the thicket, which
licks its wounds and tears it.
Where are the mandrels? I think they are
anxiously hidden in clefts of rocks.
Your little friends, I'll come back,
But without wreath and without luck.
Where is the fairy with the long golden hair,
The first beauty that was hold to me?
The oak tree in which she lives, is
sadly defoliated, disheveled by the wind.
The brook rustles drearily like the Styxe;
On the lonely shore sits a mermaid,
deathly pale and mute, like a picture of stone,
Seems to be deep in grief.
Compassionately, I approach her -
Then she gets up and looks at me,
And she flees with horrified expressions,
As if a ghost had appeared to her.
Umberto Limongiello
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