Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
HomerAlbert Ehrenstein
From “Modern German Poems”
Translated by Babette Deutsch and Avrahm Yarmolinsky
Translated by Babette Deutsch and Avrahm Yarmolinsky
I
And I sang the stillness of wood-shadowed waters.
But no one companioned me—
Rigid, lonely,
As the locust sings to itself,
To myself I sang my song.
Now my steps vanish, grown faint
In the sands of lassitude.
For weariness my eyes are failing me,
I am tired of comfortless fords,
Of sea-crossing, of girls, of streets;
At the gulf’s edge I do not remember
The shields and the spears.
Blown upon by birches,
By winds overshadowed,
I fall asleep to the sound of a harp
Whose music
Joyfully drips from under another’s fingers.
I do not stir,
For all thoughts and all acts
Trouble the limpid eyes of the world.