Ernst Stadler, Early Spring
[Another translation of a poem by German poet Ernst Stadler. For another poem of his see my post for July 2010 in the Archives]
(Ernst Stadler: 1883-1914; university literary academic and critic, Oxford Rhodes scholar, early Expressionist influenced by Whitman, main contributor to Expressionist magazine Die Aktion, killed in battle near Ypres in October 1914)
This March night I left my house late.
The streets were stirring with the smell of spring and green seed rain,
Winds striking. Through the startled incline of houses I went far out
To the bare embankment and felt a new beat swelling towards my heart.
Young becoming was extended within every breath of air.
I listened to the strong swirls rolling in my blood.
Already ploughed, a field stretched out. Burnt into the horizons
The blue of morning’s hours, set to lead into the vast.
The locks ground on. Adventure blossomed from all distance.
Over the canal waved up by young exit winds bright tracks grew
And I drifted in their light. Destiny stood waiting in windblown stars.
In my heart lay a storming as of furled flags.