Sonntag, 19. Mai 2013

Poetry: Darkness by Lord Byron

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.


  1. Trade in for:

    The King (Queen) and the spider

    Now, once there lived a king/queen, I'm told,
    who reigned long, long go,
    aking who melancholy was
    a king/queen with spirits low

    There were no wars to fight, you see,
    for 'twas a peaceful realm,
    and so monotony had seemed
    the king/queen to overwhelm.

    Disinterested he/she was in his/her
    and consequently failed to show
    his/her true abilities.

    The ministers of State agreed
    that something should be done
    to brigthen up the royal life -
    perhaps a little fun?

    So to the court were jesters brought,
    their fame was known abroad (= ersetze diese Zeile durch 'she came from far abroad' ;-) )
    and all enthused, except the King (= Queen)
    Who slept, and loudly snored (schreibe: to which she could not make her problems go ignored)

    6) the jester(s) having failed, alas,
    in their (her) appointed task,
    the ministers of state then said,
    "advice we'll have to ask"

    They called the court physician and
    the court psychologist.
    The called musicians, artists, and
    an educationist.

    the court physician said "I think"
    " a little exercise -
    a swim is very bracing in
    the morning when you rise ..."

    Remarked the court psychologist,
    "That may be very well,
    but I believe analysis
    will cure this gloomy spell"

    The court musicians gently said,
    " 'this music which does heal,
    the king (queen), should be consent to this
    much better far will feel"

    "We don't agree", the artists said,
    " for painting stands alone
    in lifting up the spirits - why,
    'twould brighten up a stone!"

    Then said the educationist,
    "the answer lies with me,
    "for with the power of knowledge, great
    results you soon will see"

    And so they all conferred about
    the best thing for the King (Queen)
    but though they talked for hours, could not
    agree on anything.

    Meanwhile, the king/queen despondently
    in royal garden sat,
    and meditated gloomily
    on this, and then on that.

    And as he/she sat, quite suddely
    a spider very small
    began to weave a web from tree
    to royal garden wall.

    To and fro, and up and down,
    the spider spun his web.
    And though monotonous it seemed,
    his patience did not ebb.

    Attentively the king (queen) began
    to watch the spider's work.
    And mused, " it must be irksome, but
    his work he does not shirk"

    And to the king/queen, quite suddenly
    there came enlightenment,
    "This spider small upon the wall
    is surely quite content"

    "Content to do the work in hand,
    content at this to strive
    until the work is finished - why,
    content to be alive!"

    The king, arising from his seat,
    toward the palace turned,
    amazing at the spider and
    the lesson he had learned.

    From that day on, a change became
    apparent in the king/queen
    and said the Ministers of State:
    "Amazing is this thing"

    And so a spider - very small
    of gloom a king/queen had healed,
    by simply demonstrating this:
    to strive and not to yield.

    D.h.: nix ist unmoeglich!

    Ausserdem, empfohlene Lektuere: "Never tell me never" by Janine Shepherd'

  2. Nur so zur Sicherheit: Manchmal poste ich hier "fremde Worte" einfach nur weil sie mir gefallen und nicht, weil sie meinen momentanen Seelenzustand beschreiben sollen. Auch wenn ich natürlich verstehen kann, wenn jemand solche Schlüsse zieht. ;)

    Das Gedicht oben habe ich gepostet, weil ich es für Lord Byron sehr ungewöhnlich finde. Sehr modern. Und hat irgendwie was von SciF. SciFi und Fantasy, die in einer apokalyptischen Welt spielt mag ich. Und ich mag Byron.

    Ich mag "Darkness" in mir haben, ziemlich sicher habe ich das, aber so hoffnungslos, wie die Stimmung im Gedicht bin ich nicht.


  3. Hope so, denn auch wenn ich Dich fuer die naechsten mind. 365 Tage und mehr sogar auf English sicher 'bombardieren' koennte mit Gedichten aus z.B.: 'Growing together'; 'Visions of you', 'Farewells are only beginnings'; Tears and pebbles in my pockets'; My gift to you'; 'Yours if you ask' waeren diese nicht unbedingt Deiner Sit. hilfreich.
    Leider haette ich ein fast aehnliches Problem mit den Deutschen - seufz.

    Duuuhu, ich verlass' mich auf Dich, dass Du weisst, dass es Zeiten gibt, wo 'hoeher einfach vorruebergehend zuuu hoch' ist. Da klammert man sich besser an den Basis-Baustein der Lebens-Pyramide auf deren Treppen es einem dann wohl ohnehin rauf und 'runter schmeisst wie einen Spielball.
    ... und denk bitte drann: manche 'Farben' faerben ab !!!

    Gaaaanz liebe Gruesse und biggest hug,

    1. :-*

      Um es mal mit Sir Francis Bacon zu sagen:

      "In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present."

      Oder mal was Deutsches von CG Jung

      "Wer zugleich seinen Schatten und sein Licht wahrnimmt, sieht sich von zwei Seiten, und damit kommt er in die Mitte."

      Und sei dir versichert, ich sehe durchaus auch das/mein Licht. :)


Redet mit aber benehmt euch - auch "zwischen den Zeilen!" ;) Wer das partout nicht kann, wird ggf. des Reiches verwiesen. Grundsätzlich sind hier alle Besucher willkommen - aber: Mein Reich, meine Regeln. Da kommt es auch schon mal (wenn auch sehr selten) vor, dass ich jemandem das Aufenthaltsrecht entziehe. Man kann das hier mit (m)einem virtuellen Wohnzimmer vergleichen, in dem ich das Hausrecht habe.

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