Hymns to Night is a pretty astounding prose poem by the German Romantic, Novalis. I am not completely satisfied with the translation I have found, by George MacDonald, although it does have much beauty about it. So I'm trying to put together something better. Want to help? The German is on the left, the MacDonald translation is on the right. As we start to establish a working version, I will put it in the middle. Click 'See suggestions'/'Make suggestion' to find out what people are saying about a particular line, and to contribute your own thoughts. Thanks!
(Click on a chapter number or paragraph number to see only the relevant portion.)
Oh, and it occurs to me I ought to say something about copyright or whatever -- no great legal mind I -- this project is intended primarily for 'publication', so-called, on this web site. Anyone who contributes will be credited, assuming they want to be; no remuneration is in the cards. If something weird happens to the space-time fabric and it becomes possible to publish this extra-blogularly, permission to do so will be sought from all who contributed (and who made it possible to contact them); but the final say about such a thing would be in my court. If things really got wacky and there were money, I would ask everybody about which odd-ball charity to donate it to; but I think I'm getting sufficiently outside the realm of the actual that there is no need to cover the bases.
Also: Gary has posted his own translation in comments to my blog. It is well worth your while.
| Original | Working | MacDonald | |||
| 5: | 2. | Süßer schmeckte der Wein von sichtbarer Jugendfülle geschenkt - ein Gott in den Trauben - eine liebende, mütterliche Göttin, emporwachsend in vollen goldenen Garben - der Liebe heil'ger Rausch ein süßer Dienst der schönsten Götterfrau - ein ewig buntes Fest der Himmelskinder und der Erdbewohner, rauschte das Leben, wie ein Frühling, durch die Jahrhunderte hin. | Sweet tasted the wine, the gift of personified Youth -- the god in the grapes -- a loving, motherly goddess grew among the full golden sheaves -- Love's holy intoxication, sweet worship of this most beautiful goddess -- an eternally colorful festival of the children of earth, life moved in constant spring-time through the centuries. | Sweeter tasted the wine, poured out by Youth impersonated; a god was in the grape-clusters; a loving, motherly goddess upgrew in the full golden sheaves; love's sacred carousal was a sweet worship of the fairest of the goddesses. Life revelled through the centuries like one spring-time, an ever-variegated festival of the children of and the dewllers on the earth. |