Summer
Georg Trakl
At evening the cuckoo’s lament
Goes silent in the wood
The grain nods deeper,
The red poppy.
A dark storm threatens
Over the hill.
The old song of the cricket
Dies out in the field.
The leaves of the chestnut
No longer move.
Your dress rustles
On the winding stair.
A candle shines softly
In the dark room;
A silver hand
Puts it out;
Windless, starless night.
(original)
Am Abend schweigt die Klage
des Kuckucks im Wald.
Tiefer neigt sich das Korn,
der rote Mohn.
Schwarzes Gewitter droht
über dem Hügel.
Das alte Lied der Grille
erstirbt im Feld.
Nimmer regt sich das Laub
der Kastanie.
Auf der Wendeltreppe
rauscht dein Kleid.
Stille leuchtet die Kerze
im dunklen Zimmer;
eine silberne Hand
löschte sie aus;
windstille, sternlose Nacht.
the miserable gardener 
AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Makes me want to learn more German. It captures the atmosphere of tonight exactly.
Yeah. This might be my favorite poem. Trakl was one of Germany’s greatest lyric poets. There’s another one posted for Sept. 29 of last year, “Landscape”.
I think literal (or near literal) translations are the best.
The translations of Rilke on this blog are literal or nearly so; the ones done elsewhere aren’t, which strikes me as being the wrong approach, since any attempt to capture Rilke in another language is ultimately hopeless, so why not just provide a literal translation?
Thank you! You’re the one translator who credits the reader with the enough intelligence to come to her own conclusions — I’m thinking of those horrible 18th century translations of Horace that made his poems rhyme. Yes, translation is hopeless…I’ve never been able to convey the depth of meaning of the French word “recherché” (damn auto correct — there is no acute accent on this damn word), or even “remerci” in every day French. I thank you for the side-by-side German/English. That last line is beautiful and I don’t even know a lick of Deutsch.
Sure. I failed to do that on one occasion, https://paridevita.com/2012/10/08/leaves/, because reproducing the peculiar (but cool) orthography seemed to be beyond the abilities of the word processor. Same one which thinks you’re writing an adjective.
I know of one terrific translation. Not literal, but it captures the spirit. Unfortunately, it isn’t mine, and I don’t remember who did the translation…..I haven’t seen the poem for over forty years. (Meaning I haven’t seen the page on which the poem was printed ….)
SABLES MOUVANTS
(Jacques Prévert)
Démons et merveilles
Vents et marées
Au loin déjà la mer s’est retirée
Et toi
Comme une algue doucement caressée par le vent
Dans les sables du lit tu remues en rêvant
Démons et merveilles
Vents et marées
Au loin déjà la mer s’est retirée
Mais dans tes yeux entrouverts
Deux petites vagues sont restées
Démons et merveilles
Vents et marées
Deux petites vagues pour me noyer
QUICKSAND
Demons and wonders
Winds and tides
The sea already backward rides
And you
Like seaweed in the wind’s soft loving
In the sand of the sheet are dreaming and moving
Demons and wonders
Winds and tides
The sea already backward rides
But in your half-opened eyes
Two small waves remain to keep
Demons and wonders
Winds and tides
Two small waves to drown me deep.