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Evan Garfinkel 1975 - 2006
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On Friday, 3 November, 2006, Evan Garfinkel, known here on LTHForum as the hungryrabbi, died in Las Vegas. Evan had many talents and also many friends. We, his friends, will always miss him and will regret that we will not have the chance to see what his talents would have brought us in the years to come.
Evan touched many people in a remarkably diverse number of ways. To me he was more than just a dear friend, he was also in many ways a kindred spirit, someone whom I daily thought of and wanted to speak to about all manner of things that come up: music -- Evan was a highly gifted drummer and me, a long retired one of more limited talents -- and food -- we shared many loves, from broccoli rabe to bagels, from Bratkartoffeln to, of course, pizza -- writing, languages... We both thought it funny that two guys from Jersey, one a Jew, the other an Italian, routinely spoke and wrote to one another in German. We both studied and love deeply German literature and so I'll offer in memory of one of my best friends a translation of one of my favourite poems by one of my favourite poets.
Denn nirgend bleibt er.
Es fesselt
Kein Zeichen.
Nicht immer
Ein Gefäß ihn zu fassen.*
A
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Mnemosyne
Third Version
Ripe, in fire dipped, cooked are
the fruits and tested on the earth and there is a law,
prophetic, that everything passes into it,
serpent like, dreaming on
the hills of the heavens. And much is,
like a load of logs
upon the shoulders,
to be retained. But evil are
the paths. Namely astray,
like horses, go the imprisoned
elements and ancient
laws of the earth. And always
into the unbound goes a yearning. Yet much is
to be retained. And of necessity faith.
Forward, however, and back we do not want
to look. Let us be cradled, as
in a rocking boat on the sea.
Yet how the beloved? Sunshine
on the ground we see and dry dust
and, as at home, the shadows of the forests and there
blooms on roofs the smoke by the ancient crowns
of towers, peacefully; namely good they are
when the soul, objecting,
wounds a heavenly one, the signs of the day.
For snow, like lilies of the valley
pointing out where
the noble-minded be, shines upon
the green meadow of the Alps
by half, while, speaking of the cross which
once was placed by the wayside for
those who have died, on a high road
a traveller fares in anger,
foreseeing from afar,
with another, but what is this?
By the figtree my Achilles
has died on me,
and Ajax lies
by the grottoes of the sea,
by brooks, neighboured by Skamandros.
By cause of the roaring in his temples,
according the constant custom
of unmoved Salamis, on foreign soil,
has great Ajax died,
as Patroklos has, though in a King’s armour.
And there died many others too. But by Kithairon
Eleutherai stood, Mnemosyne’s city. From her too,
when God took off his cloak, the evening one then cut
loose her locks. For the Heavenly ones are
indignant, if one has not gathered himself together,
preserving his soul, though this he must;
like him, mourning misses the mark.
Friedrich Hölderlin
translation: A.F. Buccini
Mnemosyne
Dritte Fassung
Reif sind, in Feuer getaucht, gekochet
Die Frücht und auf der Erde geprüfet und ein Gesez ist
Daß alles hineingeht, Schlangen gleich,
Prophetisch, träumend auf
Den Hügeln des Himmels. Und vieles
Wie auf den Schultern eine
Last von Scheitern ist
Zu behalten. Aber bös sind
Die Pfade. Nemlich unrecht,
Wie Rosse, gehn die gefangenen
Element’ und alten
Geseze der Erd. Und immer
Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht. Vieles aber ist
Zu behalten. Und Noth die Treue.
Vorwärts aber und rükwärts wollen wir
Nicht sehn. Uns wiegen lassen, wie
Auf schwankem Kahne der See.
Wie aber liebes? Sonnenschein
Am Boden sehen wir und trokenen Staub
Und heimatlich die Schatten der Wälder und es blühet
An Dächern der Rauch, bei alter Krone
Der Thürme, friedsam; gut sind nemlich
Hat gegenredend die Seele
Ein Himmlisches verwundet, die Tageszeichen.
Denn Schnee, wie Majenblumen
Das Edelmüthige, wo
Es seie, bedeutend, glänzet auf
Der grünen Wiese
Der Alpen, hälftig, da, vom Kreuze redend, das
Gesezt ist unterwegs einmal
Gestorbenen, auf hoher Straß
Ein Wandersmann geht zornig,
Fern ahnend mit
Dem andern, aber was ist diß?
Am Feigenbaum ist mein
Achilles mir gestorben,
Und Ajax liegt
An den Grotten der See,
An Bächen, benachbart dem Skamandros.
An Schläfen Sausen einst, nach
Der unbewegten Salamis steter
Gewohnheit, in der Fremd’, ist groß
Ajax gestorben,
Patroklos aber in des Königes Harnisch. Und es starben
Noch andere viel. Am Kithäron aber lag
Elevtherä, der Mnemosyne Stadt. Der auch als
Ablegte den Mantel Gott, das abendliche nachher löste
Die Loken. Himmlische nemlich sind
Unwillig, wenn einer nicht die Seele schonend sich
Zusammengenommen, aber er muß doch; dem
Gleich fehlet die Trauer.
FRIEDRICH HÖLDERLIN
* Again, from Hölderlin; my translation:
For nowhere he abides,
there binds
no sign.
Not ever
a vessel to contain him.
Alle Nerven exzitiert von dem gewürzten Wein -- Anwandlung von Todesahndungen -- Doppeltgänger --
- aus dem Tagebuch E.T.A. Hoffmanns, 6. Januar 1804.
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Na sir is na seachain an cath.