grgr (29): pain city

[Terrance]

Lorentzen / Nicklaus wrote:
> 
>  "and we go to happyville, instead of to pain city. or 'der leid-stadt', that's
>  what the germans call it. there is a mean poem about the leid-stadt, by a
>  german man named mr. rilke. but we will not read it, because  w e  are going to
>  happyville." (644)
> 
>  the poem here is the zehnte duineser elegie. (- and, btw, the genitive form
>  there probably mislead trp concerning the grammar sex: in german "stadt" is
>  female, which is, unlike in the case of "sonne" (sun), quite fitting. so us
>  germans call it "die leid-stadt"). the lyrics go:
> 
>  "freilich, wehe, wie fremd sind die gassen der leid-stadt,
>   wo in der falschen, aus übertönung gemachten
>   stille, stark, aus der gussform des leeren der ausguss
>   prahlt: der vergoldete lärm, das platzende denkmal."
> 
>   well, this one really requires professional translation. maybe someone with a
>   translation (- terrance?) can offer the official english version. anyway,
>   better than that babel fish i'll probably be:
> 
>   "though, woe, how strange are the alleys of pain city,
>    where in the wrong calm, made of oversounding, strongly
>    the sink boasts out of the mould of emptiness:
>    the gilded noise, the bursting monument."

But how alien, alas, are the streets of the city of pain,
where in the false silence formed of continual uproar,
the figure cast from the mold of emptiness stoutly swaggers:
the gilded noise, the bursting memorial. 

An important one, the song of jubilation and praise to
assenting angels, the hammers of the heart, the broken
string, hours of pain squandered.
> 
>   later in the poem, we hear about "die sterne des leidlands" which can be put
>   into "the stars of pain country".
> 
> o, wie spurlos zerträte ein engel ihnen den trostmarkt ...    kfl


The new stars of the the land of grief.
Slowly the Lament names them:---Look, there: 
the Rider, the Staff, and the larger constellation called
Garland of Fruit. Then, farther up toward the Pole: 

Cradle; Path; The Burning Book; Puppet; Window. 
But there, in the southern sky, pure as the lines 
on the palm of a blessed hand, the clear sparkling M
that stands for Mothers......---