G. K. Chesterton - The Donkey [Poem/Gedicht]
The Donkey
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
When forests walked and fishes flew
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then, surely, I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening bray
And ears like errant wings—
The devil's walking parody
Of all four-footed things:
The battered outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will;
Scourge, beat, deride me—I am dumb—
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour—
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout around my head
And palms about my feet.
1
view
G. K. Chesterton - A Fairy Tale [Poem/Gedicht]
A Fairy Tale
By G.K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
All things grew upwards, foul and fair:
The great trees fought and beat the air
With monstrous wings that would have flown;
But the old earth clung to her own,
Holding them back from heavenly wars,
Though every flower sprang at the stars.
But he broke free: while all things ceased,
Some hour increasing, he increased.
The town beneath him seemed a map,
Above the church he cocked his cap,
Above the cross his feather flew
Above the birds and still he grew.
The trees turned grass; the clouds were riven;
His feet were mountains lost in heaven;
Through strange new skies he rose alone,
The earth fell from him like a stone,
And his own limbs beneath him far
Seemed tapering down to touch a star.
He reared his head, shaggy and grim,
Staring among the cherubim;
The seven celestial floors he rent,
One crystal dome still o'er him bent:
Above his head, more clear than hope,
All heaven was a microscope.
5
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Myth of Arthur [Poem/Gedicht]
"The Myth of Arthur"
By G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
O learned man who never learned to learn,
Save to deduce, by timid steps and small,
From towering smoke that fire can never burn
And from tall tales that men were never tall.
Say, have you thought what manner of man it is
Of who men say "He could strike giants down" ?
Or what strong memories over time's abyss
Bore up the pomp of Camelot and the crown.
And why one banner all the background fills,
Beyond the pageants of so many spears,
And by what witchery in the western hills
A throne stands empty for a thousand years.
Who hold, unheeding this immense impact,
Immortal story for a mortal sin;
Lest human fable touch historic fact,
Chase myths like moths, and fight them with a pin.
Take comfort; rest--there needs not this ado.
You shall not be a myth, I promise you.
7
views
G. K. Chesterton - Thou Shalt not Kill [Poem/Gedicht]
Thou Shalt Not Kill
by G.K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
I had grown weary of him; of his breath
And hands and features I was sick to death.
Each day I heard the same dull voice and tread;
I did not hate him: but I wished him dead.
And he must with his blank face fill my life-
Then my brain blackened; and I snatched a knife.
But ere I struck, my soul's grey deserts through
A voice cried, 'Know at least what thing you do.'
'This is a common man: knowest thou, O soul,
What this thing is? somewhere where seasons roll
There is some living thing for whom this man
Is as seven heavens girt into a span,
For some one soul you take the world away-
Now know you well your deed and purpose. Slay!'
Then I cast down the knife upon the ground
And saw that mean man for one moment crowned.
I turned and laughed: for there was no one by-
The man that I had sought to slay was I.
3
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Last Hero [Poem/Gedicht]
The Last Hero
by G.K.Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
The wind blew out from Bergen from the dawning to the day,
There was a wreck of trees and fall of towers a score of miles away,
And drifted like a livid leaf I go before its tide,
Spewed out of house and stable, beggared of flag and bride.
The heavens are bowed about my head, shouting like seraph wars,
With rains that might put out the sun and clean the sky of stars,
Rains like the fall of ruined seas from secret worlds above,
The roaring of the rains of God none but the lonely love.
Feast in my hall, O foemen, and eat and drink and drain,
You never loved the sun in heaven as I have loved the rain.
The chance of battle changes -- so may all battle be;
I stole my lady bride from them, they stole her back from me.
I rent her from her red-roofed hall, I rode and saw arise,
More lovely than the living flowers the hatred in her eyes.
She never loved me, never bent, never was less divine;
The sunset never loved me, the wind was never mine.
Was it all nothing that she stood imperial in duresse?
Silence itself made softer with the sweeping of her dress.
O you who drain the cup of life, O you who wear the crown,
You never loved a woman's smile as I have loved her frown.
The wind blew out from Bergen to the dawning of the day,
They ride and run with fifty spears to break and bar my way,
I shall not die alone, alone, but kin to all the powers,
As merry as the ancient sun and fighting like the flowers.
How white their steel, how bright their eyes! I love each laughing knave,
Cry high and bid him welcome to the banquet of the brave.
Yea, I will bless them as they bend and love them where they lie,
When on their skulls the sword I swing falls shattering from the sky.
The hour when death is like a light and blood is like a rose, --
You never loved your friends, my friends, as I shall love my foes.
Know you what earth shall lose to-night, what rich uncounted loans,
What heavy gold of tales untold you bury with my bones?
My loves in deep dim meadows, my ships that rode at ease,
Ruffling the purple plumage of strange and secret seas.
To see this fair earth as it is to me alone was given,
The blow that breaks my brow to-night shall break the dome of heaven.
The skies I saw, the trees I saw after no eyes shall see,
To-night I die the death of God; the stars shall die with me;
One sound shall sunder all the spears and break the trumpet's breath:
You never laughed in all your life as I shall laugh in death.
15
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Strange Music [Poem/Gedicht]
The Strange Music
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may loose and slack,
But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon his back,
Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret,
Still, my hope is all before me: for I cannot play it yet.
In your strings is hid a music that no hand hath e'er let fall,
In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all;
Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame,
Fiercer than the pain that folds you, softer than your sorrow's name.
Not as mine, my soul's annointed, not as mine the rude and light
Easy mirth of many faces, swaggering pride of song and fight;
Something stranger, something sweeter, something waiting you afar,
Secret as your stricken senses, magic as your sorrows are.
But on this, God's harp supernal, stretched but to be stricken once,
Hoary time is a beginner, Life a bungler, Death a dunce.
But I will not fear to match them-no, by God, I will not fear,
I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand still to hear.
9
views
G. K. Chesterton - A Little Litany [Poem/Gedicht]
A Little Litany
by G. K. Chesterton
Read By Rose McHarel
When God turned back eternity and was young,
Ancient of Days, grown little for your mirth
(As under the low arch the land is bright)
Peered through you, gate of heaven--and saw the earth.
Or shutting out his shining skies awhile
Built you about him for a house of gold
To see in pictured walls his storied world
Return upon him as a tale is told.
Or found his mirror there; the only glass
That would not break with that unbearable light
Till in a corner of the high dark house
God looked on God, as ghosts meet in the night.
Star of his morning; that unfallen star
In that strange starry overturn of space
When earth and sky changed places for an hour
And heaven looked upwards in a human face.
Or young on your strong knees and lifted up
Wisdom cried out, whose voice is in the street,
And more than twilight of twiformed cherubim
Made of his throne indeed a mercy-seat.
Or risen from play at your pale raiment's hem
God, grown adventurous from all time's repose,
Or your tall body climbed the ivory tower
And kissed upon your mouth the mystic rose.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Eine kleine Litanei
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Als Gott die Ewigkeit zurückdrehte und jung war,
Alter der Tage, wenig gewachsen für deine Freude
(Wie unter dem niedrigen Bogen das Land hell ist)
Spähte durch dich, Himmelstor, und sah die Erde.
Oder schloss seinen leuchtenden Himmel für eine Weile aus
Bautest du um ihn ein Haus aus Gold
Um in abgebildeten Mauern seine erzählte Welt zu sehen
Auf ihn zurückkehren, wie ein Märchen erzählt wird.
Oder fand dort seinen Spiegel; das einzige Glas
Das nicht zerbrach durch das unerträgliche Licht
Bis in einer Ecke des hohen, dunklen Hauses
Gott auf Gott blickte, wie Geister sich in der Nacht treffen.
Stern seines Morgens; dieser ungefallene Stern
In jenem seltsamen sternenklaren Umsturz des Raumes
Als Erde und Himmel für eine Stunde den Platz tauschten
Und der Himmel aufwärts blickte in ein menschliches Gesicht.
Oder jung auf deinen starken Knien und hochgehoben
Die Weisheit rief, deren Stimme auf der Straße ist,
Und mehr als Zwielicht von gekleideten Cherubim
Machte aus seinem Thron wahrlich einen Gnadenstuhl.
Oder auferstanden vom Spiel am Saum deines blassen Gewandes
Gott, abenteuerlich gewachsen aus aller Zeit Ruhe,
Oder dein hoher Körper bestieg den Elfenbeinturm
Und küsste auf deinen Mund die mystische Rose.
5
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Song of Right and Wrong [Poem/Gedicht]
The Song of Right and Wrong
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
God Almighty's son and daughter
He the valiant, she the pure;
If an angel out of heaven
Brings you other things to drink,
Thank him for his kind attentions,
Go and pour them down the sink.
Tea is like the East he grows in,
A great yellow Mandarin
With urbanity of manner
And unconsciousness of sin;
All the women, like a harem,
At his pig-tail troop along;
And, like all the East he grows in,
He is Poison when he's strong.
Tea, although an Oriental,
Is a gentleman at least;
Cocoa is a cad and coward,
Cocoa is a vulgar beast,
Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,
Lying, crawling cad and clown,
And may very well be grateful
To the fool that takes him down.
As for all the windy waters,
They were rained like tempests down
When good drink had been dishonoured
By the tipplers of the town;
When red wine had brought red ruin
And the death-dance of our times,
Heaven sent us Soda Water
As a torment for our crimes.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Das Lied von Recht und Unrecht
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Feiere mit Wein oder faste mit Wasser
und deine Ehre ist dir sicher,
Sohn und Tochter Gottes des Allmächtigen
Er der Tapfere, sie die Reine;
Wenn ein Engel aus dem Himmel
Bringt euch andere Dinge zu trinken,
so danket ihm für seine Güte,
Geh und schütte sie in die Spüle.
Der Tee ist wie der Osten, in dem er wächst,
Eine große gelbe Mandarine
Mit urbanem Auftreten
und dem Unbewußtsein der Sünde;
All die Frauen, wie ein Harem,
An seinem Pferdeschwanz entlang schreiten;
Und, wie der ganze Osten, wächst er heran,
Er ist Gift, wenn er stark ist.
Tee, obwohl ein Orientale,
ist wenigstens ein Gentleman;
Kakao ist ein Schuft und Feigling,
Kakao ist ein vulgäres Biest,
Kakao ist ein dumpfer, untreuer,
Lügender, kriechender Schuft und Clown,
Und kann sehr wohl dankbar sein
Dem Narren, der ihn zu Fall bringt.
Und was die windigen Wasser betrifft,
Sie regneten wie Unwetter herab
Als der gute Trank entehrt war
Von den Säufern der Stadt;
Als roter Wein rotes Verderben gebracht hatte
Und den Todestanz unserer Zeit,
Schickte uns der Himmel Sodawasser
Als Pein für unsere Verbrechen.
19
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Rolling English Road [Poem/Gedicht]
The Rolling English Road
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel.
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.
His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.
My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Die rollende englische Straße
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel.
Bevor der Römer nach Rye kam oder hinaus zum Severn schritt,
schuf der rollende englische Trunkenbold die rollende englische Straße.
Eine taumelnde Straße, eine rollende Straße, die sich durch die Grafschaft schlängelt,
Und nach ihm rannten der Pfarrer, der Küster und der Gutsherr;
Eine fröhliche Straße, eine wirre Straße, und eine solche haben wir betreten
In der Nacht, als wir über Beachy Head nach Birmingham fuhren.
Ich kannte keinen Schaden von Bonaparte und viel von dem Squire,
Und auf den Kampf mit dem Franzosen hatte ich keine Lust;
Doch ich schlug ihre Baggone, denn sie waren angetreten
Um die krumme Straße zu begradigen, die ein englischer Trunkenbold machte,
Wo du und ich mit Bierkrügen in der Hand die Gasse hinuntergingen,
In der Nacht, als wir über Goodwin Sands nach Glastonbury fuhren.
Seine Sünden wurden ihm vergeben; oder warum laufen Blumen
Hinter ihm, und die Hecken, die sich in der Sonne stärken?
Das wilde Ding ging von links nach rechts und wußte nicht, welches welches war,
Doch die wilde Rose war über ihm, als sie ihn im Graben fanden.
Gott verzeih' uns und verhärte uns nicht; wir sahen nicht so klar
In der Nacht, als wir über Brighton Pier nach Bannockburn gingen.
Meine Freunde, wir werden nicht wieder hingehen oder einen alten Zorn nachäffen,
Oder die Torheit unserer Jugend zur Schande des Alters machen,
sondern gehen mit klareren Augen und Ohren diesen Weg, der wandert,
Und seht im Abendlicht ungetrübt die anständige Herberge des Todes;
Denn es gibt noch Gutes zu hören und Schönes zu sehn,
Bevor wir über Kensal Green ins Paradies gehen.
162
views
G. K. Chesterton - By the Babe Unborn [Poem/Gedicht]
By the Babe Unborn.
Written by G.K. Chesterton.
Read by Rose McHarel.
If trees were tall and grasses short.
As in some crazy tale.
If here and there a sea were blue.
Beyond the breaking pale.
If a fixed fire hung in the air.
To warm me one day through.
If deep green hair grew on great hills.
I know, what I should do.
In dark I lie, dreaming that there.
Are great eyes cold or kind.
And twisted streets and silent doors.
And living men behind.
Let storm clouds come, better an hour.
And leave to weep and fight.
Than all the ages I have ruled.
The empires of the night.
I think that if they gave me leave.
Within the world to stand.
I would be good through all the day.
I spent in fairyland.
They should not hear a word from me.
Of selfishness or scorn.
If only I could find the door!
If only I were born!
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Bei dem ungeborenen Kind.
Geschrieben von G.K. Chesterton.
Gelesen von Rose McHarel.
Wenn Bäume hoch und Gräser kurz wären.
Wie in einem verrückten Märchen.
Wenn hier und da ein Meer blau wäre.
Jenseits der brechenden Blässe.
Wenn ein festes Feuer in der Luft hängen würde.
Um mich eines Tages durchzuwärmen.
Wenn tiefgrünes Haar auf großen Hügeln wüchse.
Ich weiß, was ich tun soll.
Im Dunkeln liege ich und träume, dass dort.
Große Augen kalt oder freundlich sind.
Und verwinkelte Straßen und stille Türen.
Und lebende Menschen dahinter.
Lass Sturmwolken kommen, besser eine Stunde.
Und zum Weinen und Kämpfen lassen.
Als alle Zeitalter, die ich regiert habe.
Die Reiche der Nacht.
Ich denke, wenn sie mir die Erlaubnis geben.
In der Welt zu stehen.
Ich würde den ganzen Tag lang gut sein.
den ich im Märchenland verbracht habe.
Sie sollten kein Wort von mir hören.
Von Selbstsucht oder Verachtung.
Wenn ich nur die Tür finden könnte!
Wäre ich nur geboren!
1
view
G. K. Chesterton - The Aristocrat [Poem/Gedicht]
The Aristocrat
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
The Devil is a gentleman and askes you down to stay
At his little place at What'sitsname (it isn't far away).
They say the sport is splendid; there is always something new,
And fairy scenes, and fearful feats that none but he can do;
He can shoot the feathered cherubs if they fly on the estate,
Or fish for Father Neptune with the mermaids for a bait;
He scaled amid the staggering stars that precipice the sky,
And blew his trumpet above heaven, and got by mastery
The starry crown of God Himself and shoved it on the shelf;
But the devil is a gentleman, and doesn't brag himself.
O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away,
And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay
At the little place in What'hitsname where folks are rich and clever;
The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse forever;
There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain,
There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain;
There is a game of April Fool that's played behind its door,
Where the fool remains forever and April comes no more,
Where the splendor of the daylight grows drearier than the dark,
And life droops like a vulture that once was such a lark:
And that is the Blue Devil, that once was the Blue Bird;
For the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't keep his word
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Der Aristokrat
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Der Teufel ist ein Gentleman und bittet dich zu bleiben
In seinem kleinen Haus in What'sitsname (es ist nicht weit weg).
Man sagt, der Sport sei prächtig, es gebe immer etwas Neues,
Und märchenhafte Szenen, und furchterregende Kunststücke, die niemand außer ihm vollbringen kann;
Er kann die gefiederten Cherubinen erschießen, wenn sie auf dem Anwesen fliegen,
Oder mit den Nixen als Köder nach Vater Neptun fischen;
Er kletterte zwischen den taumelnden Sternen, die den Himmel zerklüften,
Und blies seine Trompete über den Himmel, und erlangte durch Herrschaft
Die Sternenkrone von Gott selbst und schob sie auf das Regal;
Doch der Teufel ist ein Gentleman und prahlt nicht mit sich selbst.
O blende deine Augen und breche dein Herz und hacke deine Hand weg,
Und verliere deine Liebe und rasiere deinen Kopf; doch geh nicht hin, um zu bleiben
In dem kleinen Ort in What'hitsname, wo die Leute reich und klug sind;
Das goldene und das schöne Haus, wo es immer schlimmer wird;
Es gibt Dinge, von denen du nichts zu wissen brauchst, obwohl du vergeblich lebst und stirbst,
Es gibt Seelen, die des Vergnügens kränker sind als du des Schmerzes;
Es gibt ein Spiel des Aprilscherzes, das hinter seiner Tür gespielt wird,
Wo der Narr ewig bleibt und der April nicht mehr kommt,
Wo die Pracht des Tageslichts trüber wird als die Dunkelheit,
Und das Leben ertrinkt wie ein Geier, der einst eine solche Lerche war:
Und das ist der blaue Teufel, der einst der blaue Vogel war;
Denn der Teufel ist ein Gentleman und hält sein Wort nicht
37
views
G. K. Chesterton - Gold Leaves [Poem/Gedicht]
Gold Leaves
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
Lo! I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold;
Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out
The year and I are old.
In youth I sought the prince of men,
Captain in cosmic wars,
Our Titan, even the weeds would show
Defiant, to the stars.
But now a great thing in the street
Seems any human nod,
Where shift in strange democracy
The million masks of God.
In youth I sought the golden flower
Hidden in wood or wold,
But I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Blattgold
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Siehe, ich komme in den Herbst,
Wenn alle Blätter golden sind;
Graue Haare und goldene Blätter schreien
Das Jahr und ich sind alt.
In der Jugend suchte ich den Prinzen der Menschen,
Hauptmann in kosmischen Kriegen,
Unser Titan, selbst das Unkraut würde sich zeigen
Trotzig, zu den Sternen.
Doch nun ein großes Ding auf der Straße
Scheint jedes menschliche Nicken,
Wo sich in seltsamer Demokratie
Die Millionen Masken Gottes.
In der Jugend suchte ich die goldene Blume
Verborgen in Wald und Flur,
Doch ich komme in den Herbst,
wenn alle Blätter golden sind.
8
views
G. K. Chesterton - Elegy In A Country Churchyard [Poem/Gedicht]
Elegy In A Country Churchyard
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And bees and birds of England
About the cross can roam.
But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.
And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England,
They have no graves as yet.
Deutsche Übersetzung
Elegie auf einem ländlichen Kirchhof
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Die Männer, die für England arbeiteten
Sie haben ihre Gräber zu Hause:
Und die Bienen und Vögel Englands
Können um das Kreuz schweifen.
Aber sie, die für England kämpften,
die einem fallenden Stern folgten,
ach, ach, für England
Sie haben ihre Gräber in der Ferne.
Und die, die in England herrschen,
In stattlicher Konklave versammelt,
ach, ach für England,
Sie haben noch keine Gräber.
4
views
G. K. Chesterton - A Song of Defeat [Poem/Gedicht]
A Song of Defeat
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
The line breaks and the guns go under,
The lords and the lackeys ride the plain;
I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder,
And the whole of my heart grows young again.
For our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;
Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;
Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.
But the old flags reel and the old drums rattle,
As once in my life they throbbed and reeled;
I have found my youth in the lost battle,
I have found my heart on the battlefield.
For we that fight till the world is free,
We are not easy in victory:
We have known each other too long, my brother,
And fought each other, the world and we.
And I dream of the days when work was scrappy,
And rare in our pockets the mark of the mint,
When we were angry and poor and happy,
And proud of seeing our names in print.
For so they conquered and so we scattered,
When the Devil road and his dogs smelt gold,
And the peace of a harmless folk was shattered;
When I was twenty and odd years old.
When the mongrel men that the market classes
Had slimy hands upon England's rod,
And sword in hand upon Afric's passes
Her last Republic cried to God.
For the men no lords can buy or sell,
They sit not easy when all goes well,
They have said to each other what naught can smother,
They have seen each other, our souls and hell.
It is all as of old, the empty clangour,
The Nothing scrawled on a five-foot page,
The huckster who, mocking holy anger,
Painfully paints his face with rage.
And the faith of the poor is faint and partial,
And the pride of the rich is all for sale,
And the chosen heralds of England's Marshal
Are the sandwich-men of the Daily Mail,
And the nygrads that dare not give are glutted,
And the feeble that dare not fail are strong,
So while the City of Toil is gutted,
I sit in the saddle and sing my song.
For we that fight till the world is free,
We have no comfort in victory;
We have read each other as Cain his brother,
We know each other, these slaves and we.
7
views
G. K. Chesterton - A Child of the Snows [Poem/Gedicht]
A Child of the Snows
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.
And at night we win to the ancient inn
Where the child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet
At the inn at the end of the world.
The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown,
The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Ein Kind des Schnees
Von G.K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Es erklingt eine Hymne, wenn die Fensterscheiben dunkel sind,
Und nie zuvor oder wieder,
Wenn die Nächte stark sind mit einer langen Dunkelheit,
Und die Dunkelheit von Regen erfüllt ist.
Nie wissen wir mehr als bei Schneeregen und Schnee,
Den Ort, wo die großen Feuer sind,
Dass die Mitte der Erde ein tobendes Vergnügen ist
Und das Herz der Erde ein Stern.
Und in der Nacht ziehen wir zum alten Gasthaus
Wo das Kind im Frost gefaltet ist,
Wir folgen den Füßen, wo sich alle Seelen treffen
In der Herberge am Ende der Welt.
Die Götter liegen tot, wo die Blätter rot liegen,
Denn die Flamme der Sonne ist verflogen,
Die Götter liegen kalt, wo die Blätter golden sind,
Und ein Kind kommt allein heraus.
12
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Englishman [Poem/Gedicht]
The Englishman
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
St George he was for England,
And before he killed the dragon
He drank a pint of English ale
Out of an English flagon.
For though he fast right readily
In hair-shirt or in mail,
It isn't safe to give him cakes
Unless you give him ale.
St George he was for England,
And right gallantly set free
The lady left for dragon's meat
And tied up to a tree;
But since he stood for England
And knew what England means,
Unless you give him bacon
You mustn't give him beans.
St George he is for England,
And shall wear the shield he wore
When we go out in armour
With battle-cross before.
But though he is jolly company
And very pleased to dine,
It isn't safe to give him nuts
Unless you give him wine.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Der Engländer
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
St. Georg war er für England,
Und bevor er den Drachen tötete
trank er ein Pfund englisches Bier
aus einem englischen Krug.
Denn obwohl er schnell und bereitwillig
Im Haarhemd oder in der Post,
ist es nicht sicher, ihm Kuchen zu geben
Es sei denn, du gibst ihm Bier.
St. Georg war er für England,
Und befreite ganz galant
Die Dame ging als Drachenfleisch
Und an einen Baum gefesselt;
Doch da er für England stand
Und wusste, was England bedeutet,
Wenn du ihm keinen Speck gibst
darfst du ihm keine Bohnen geben.
Der heilige Georg ist für England,
Und soll den Schild tragen, den er trug
Wenn wir in Rüstung ausziehen
Mit dem Schlachtkreuz davor.
Doch obwohl er ein lustiger Geselle ist
und sehr gerne speist,
ist es nicht sicher, ihm Nüsse zu geben
Es sei denn, du gibst ihm Wein.
8
views
G. K. Chesterton - Wine and Water [Poem/Gedicht]
Wine and Water
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle in a egg-cup big as a pail,
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and fish he took was Whale,
But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,
"I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink
As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,
The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink,
And Noah he cocked his eye and said, "It looks like rain, I think,
The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod,
Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,
And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod,
For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God,
And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Wein und Wasser
von G. K. Chesterton
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Der alte Noah hatte eine Straußenfarm und Hühner in großem Stil,
Er aß sein Ei mit einer Schöpfkelle in einem Eierbecher, der so groß wie ein Eimer war,
Und die Suppe, die er aß, war Elefanten-Suppe und der Fisch, den er aß, war Walfisch,
Aber sie waren alle klein für den Keller, den er mitnahm, als er in See stach,
Und Noah sagte oft zu seiner Frau, wenn er sich zum Essen hinsetzte,
"Es ist mir egal, wohin das Wasser fließt, solange es nicht in den Wein kommt."
Der Katarakt der Himmelsklippe stürzte blendend vom Abgrund
Als ob er die Sterne wegspülen würde, so wie Seifenlauge ein Waschbecken herunterläuft,
Die sieben Himmel stürzten herab, damit die Kehlen der Hölle trinken konnten,
Und Noah schaute sich um und sagte: "Ich glaube, es sieht nach Regen aus,
Das Wasser hat das Matterhorn ertränkt, so tief wie eine Mendip-Mine,
Aber es ist mir egal, wohin das Wasser fließt, wenn es nicht in den Wein kommt."
Aber Noah hat gesündigt, und wir haben gesündigt; auf beschwipsten Füßen sind wir getreten,
Bis ein großer schwarzer Abstinenzler als Rute zu uns geschickt wurde,
Und Sie können keinen Wein bei einem Volksfest, einer Kapelle oder einem Eisteddfod bekommen,
Denn der Fluch des Wassers ist wegen des Zorns Gottes wieder da,
Und Wasser steht auf der Tafel des Bischofs und dem Schrein des Höheren Denkers,
Aber es ist mir egal, wohin das Wasser fließt, solange es nicht in den Wein kommt.
81
views
G. K. Chesterton - A Prayer in Darkness [Poem]
A Prayer in Darkness
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
This much, O heaven—if I should brood or rave,
Pity me not; but let the world be fed,
Yea, in my madness if I strike me dead,
Heed you the grass that grows upon my grave.
If I dare snarl between this sun and sod,
Whimper and clamour, give me grace to own,
In sun and rain and fruit in season shown,
The shining silence of the scorn of God.
Thank God the stars are set beyond my power,
If I must travail in a night of wrath,
Thank God my tears will never vex a moth,
Nor any curse of mine cut down a flower.
Men say the sun was darkened: yet I had
Thought it beat brightly, even on—Calvary:
And He that hung upon the Torturing Tree
Heard all the crickets singing, and was glad.
1
view
G. K. Chesterton - The Deluge [Poem/Gedicht]
The Deluge
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
Though giant rains put out the sun,
Here stand I for a sign.
Though earth be filled with waters dark,
My cup is filled with wine.
Tell to the trembling priests that here
Under the deluge rod,
One nameless, tattered, broken man
Stood up, and drank to God.
Sun has been where the rain is now,
Bees in the heat to hum,
Haply a humming maiden came,
Now let the deluge come:
Brown of aureole, green of garb,
Straight as a golden rod,
Drink to the throne of thunder now!
Drink to the wrath of God.
High in the wreck I held the cup,
I clutched my rusty sword,
I cocked my tattered feather
To the glory of the Lord.
Not undone were the heaven and earth,
This hollow world thrown up,
Before one man had stood up straight,
And drained it like a cup.
8
views
G. K. Chesterton - A Hymn [Poem/Gedicht]
A Hymn
by G. K. Chesterton
Read by Rose McHarel
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.
1
view
G. K. Chesterton - Who Goes Home [Poem/Gedicht]
Read by Rose McHarel
Who Goes Home?
by G. K. Chesterton
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?
Deutsche Übersetzung:
Gelesen von Rose McHarel
Wer geht nach Hause?
von G. K. Chesterton
In der Stadt, die auf Schleim und Lehm steht
Rufen sie in ihrem Parlament: "Wer geht nach Hause?
Und es kommt keine Antwort in Gewölbe oder Kuppel,
Denn niemand in der Stadt der Gräber geht nach Hause.
Doch diese werden untergehen und verstehen,
Denn Gott hat Erbarmen mit diesem großen Land.
Männer, die wieder Männer sind, wer geht nach Hause?
Tocsin und Trompeter! Wer geht nach Hause?
Denn es ist Blut auf dem Feld und Blut auf dem Schaum
Und Blut am Körper, wenn der Mensch nach Hause geht.
Und eine Stimme zum Abschied... Wer ist für den Sieg?
Wer ist für die Freiheit? Wer geht nach Hause?
71
views
G. K. Chesterton - The Human Tree [Poem]
Read by Rose McHarel
The Human Tree
by G. K. Chesterton
Many have Earth's lovers been,
Tried in seas and wars, I ween;
Yet the mightiest have I seen:
Yea, the best saw I.
One that in a field alone
Stood up stiller than a stone
Lest a moth should fly.
Birds had nested in his hair,
On his shoon were mosses rare,
Insect empires flourished there,
Worms in ancient wars;
But his eyes burn like a glass,
Hearing a great sea of grass
Roar towards the stars.
From them to the human tree
Rose a cry continually:
`Thou art still, our Father, we
Fain would have thee nod.
Make the skies as blood below thee,
Though thou slay us, we shall know thee.
Answer us, O God!
`Show thine ancient fame and thunder,
Split the stillness once asunder,
Lest we whisper, lest we wonder
Art thou there at all?'
But I saw him there alone,
Standing stiller than a stone
Lest a moth should fall.
7
views