Lost in the fire of last year's Pierrot centennial was translation. After all, it was Otto Erich Hartleben's German--translated from the original French of Albert Giraud--that Arnold Schoenberg had set.
And with Stanley Appelbaum's Anglicised Hartleben turning 20 next year (not to mention having its own Twitter account @PierrotTweets), Classicalite figured a new English language translation was passed due.
To wit, for the next 21 weekdays, we'll be offering a new take on each of Giraud/Hartleben/Appelbaum's 3x7 poems...alongside some of our favorite performances.
CROSSES
Verses are the holy crosses
Whereon poets bleed in silence.
Blinded by the swarms of vultures
Circling above--a spectral flock.
On the bodies where swords have feasted,
Gaudy are their scarlet robes.
Verses are the holy crosses
Whereon poets bleed in silence.
The skull, dead, matted to the tresses;
Far away and faint, the noise of the proles.
Slowly, the sun goes down
Like a kingly crimson crown.
Verses are the holy crosses.
Coming up next, Teil III: 15. "Heimweh."
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