BÖHMEN LIEGT AM MEER
Sind hierorts Häuser grün, tret ich noch in ein Haus.
Sind hier die Brücken heil, geh ich auf gutem Grund.
Ist Liebesmüh in alle Zeit verloren, verlier ich sie hier gern.
Bin ich’s nicht, ist es einer, der ist so gut wie ich.
Grenzt hier ein Wort an mich, so laß ich’s grenzen.
Liegt Böhmen noch am Meer, glaub ich den Meeren wieder.
Und glaub ich noch ans Meer, so hoffe ich auf Land.
Bin ich’s, so ist’s ein jeder, der ist soviel wie ich.
Ich will nichts mehr für mich. Ich will zugrunde gehn.
Zugrund- das heißt zum Meer, dort find ich Böhmen wieder.
Zurund gerichtet, wach ich ruhig auf.
Von Grund auf weiß ich jetzt, und ich bin unverloren.
Kommt her, ihr Böhmen alle, Seefahrer, Hafenhuren und
Schiffe
unverankert. Wollt ihr nicht böhmisch sein, Іllyrer, Veroneser,
und Venezianer alle. Spielt die Komödien, die lachen machen
Und die zum Weinen sind. Und irrt euch hundertmal,
wie ich mich irrte und Proben nie bestand,
doch hab ich sie bestanden, ein um das andre Mal.
Wie Böhmen sie bestand und eines schönen Tags
ans Meer begnadigt wurde und jetzt am Wasser liegt.
Ich grenz noch an ein Wort und an ein andres Land,
ich grenz, wie wenig auch, an alles immer mehr,
ein Böhme, ein Vagant, der nichts hat, der nichts hält,
begabt nur noch, vom Meer, das strittig ist, Land meiner
Wahl zu sehen.
Η ΒΟΗΜΙΑ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΠΛΑΪ ΣΤΗ ΘΑΛΑΣΣΑ
Αν είν’ εδώ τα σπίτια πράσινα, μπαίνω σ’ ένα τέτοιο σπίτι.
Αν είν’ εδώ γερές οι γέφυρες, σε στέριο έδαφος βαδίζω.
Αν χάθηκε για πάντα κάθε νόημα, τότε εδώ ας το χάσω.
Αν δεν είμαι εγώ, είναι ένας άλλος, όσο κι εγώ καλός.
Αν εδώ μια λέξη με μένα συνορεύει, τότε την αφήνω να συνορεύει.
Αν είναι ακόμη η Βοημία πλάι στη θάλασσα, πάλι στις θάλασσες πιστεύω.
Κι αν στη θάλασσα πιστεύω, ελπίδες τρέφω για ξηρά.
Αν είμαι εγώ, είναι κι ο καθένας, που όσο κι εγώ αξίζει.
Για μένα τίποτα πια δεν θέλω, θέλω να χαθώ.
Στον βυθό- στη θάλασσα- εκεί τη Βοημία θα ξαναβρώ.
Κι αν στ’ άπατα αφανίζομαι, τότε ήρεμα ξυπνώ.
Και τώρα βαθιά γνωρίζω, και δεν έχω χαθεί.
Ελάτε εδώ, οι Βοημοί όλοι, θαλασσοπόροι, πόρνες του λιμανιού
και καράβια
δίχως άγκυρα. Δεν θέλετε απ’ τη Βοημία να ‘στε, Ιλλυριοί, Βερονέζοι
και Βενετσιάνοι όλοι. Παίξτε τις κωμωδίες, που γέλιο φέρνουν
Και είναι για κλάματα. Κι αν ξανά και ξανά γελαστείτε,
όπως εγώ γελάστηκα και δοκιμασίες ποτέ δεν άντεξα,
κι όμως, τη μια ή την άλλη φορά, τις άντεξα.
Όπως η Βοημία τις άντεξε και μια ωραία μέρα
της δόθηκε η χάρις και τώρα στο νερό πλάι είναι.
Συνορεύω ακόμη με μια λέξη και με μια άλλη χώρα,
συνορεύω, κι ας είναι λίγο, με όλα όλο και πιο πολύ,
ένας Βοημός, ένας πλανόβιος που τίποτα δεν έχει και τίποτα
δεν τον κρατεί
με χάρισμα ένα μόνο, απ’ τη θάλασσα, που αβέβαιο είναι,
τη χώρα που εγώ διάλεξα να βλέπω.
BOHEMIA LIES BY THE SEA
If houses here are green, I’ll step inside a house.
If bridges here are sound, I’ll walk on solid ground.
If love’s labour’s lost in every age, I’ll gladly lose it here.
If it’s not me, it’s one who is as good as me.
If a word here borders on me, I’ll let it border.
If Bohemia still lies by the sea, I’ll believe in the sea again.
And believing in the sea, thus I can hope for land.
If it’s me, then it’s anyone, for he’s as worthy as me.
I want nothing more for myself. I want to go under.
Under – that means the sea, there I’ll find Bohemia again.
From my grave, I wake in peace.
From deep down I know now, and I’m not lost.
Come here, all you Bohemians, seafarers, dock whores, and ships
unanchored. Don’t you want to be Bohemians, all you Illyrians,
Veronese and Venetians. Play the comedies that make us laugh
until we cry. And err a hundred times,
as I erred and never withstood the trials,
though I did withstand them time after time.
As Bohemia withstood them and one fine day
was released to the sea and now lies by water.
I still border on a word and on another land,
I border, like little else, on everything more and more,
a Bohemian, a wandering minstrel, who has nothing, who is held by nothing,
gifted only at seeing, by a doubtful sea, the land of my choice.
If houses here are green, I’ll step inside a house.
If bridges here are sound, I’ll walk on solid ground.
If love’s labour’s lost in every age, I’ll gladly lose it here.
If it’s not me, it’s one who is as good as me.
If a word here borders on me, I’ll let it border.
If Bohemia still lies by the sea, I’ll believe in the sea again.
And believing in the sea, thus I can hope for land.
If it’s me, then it’s anyone, for he’s as worthy as me.
I want nothing more for myself. I want to go under.
Under – that means the sea, there I’ll find Bohemia again.
From my grave, I wake in peace.
From deep down I know now, and I’m not lost.
Come here, all you Bohemians, seafarers, dock whores, and ships
unanchored. Don’t you want to be Bohemians, all you Illyrians,
Veronese and Venetians. Play the comedies that make us laugh
until we cry. And err a hundred times,
as I erred and never withstood the trials,
though I did withstand them time after time.
As Bohemia withstood them and one fine day
was released to the sea and now lies by water.
I still border on a word and on another land,
I border, like little else, on everything more and more,
a Bohemian, a wandering minstrel, who has nothing, who is held by nothing,
gifted only at seeing, by a doubtful sea, the land of my choice.
Anselm Kiefer (German, born 1945)
A member of the third generation of avant-garde artists in postwar Germany, Kiefer is arguably the most important German painter since World War II. He is best known for wedding formal inventions rooted in Abstract Expressionist style to resonant subject matter from literature, history, and politics.
A member of the third generation of avant-garde artists in postwar Germany, Kiefer is arguably the most important German painter since World War II. He is best known for wedding formal inventions rooted in Abstract Expressionist style to resonant subject matter from literature, history, and politics.
Bohemia Lies by the Sea, 1996
The composition of this painting is divided in the center by a rutted country road that recedes in very deep perspective toward an extremely high horizon. On the center ridge of the road and in the fields on either side grow pink-orange flowers, identified by the artist as poppies. In the horizon at the left, the artist has inscribed "Böhmen liegt am Meer" (Bohemia lies by the sea).
The composition of this painting is divided in the center by a rutted country road that recedes in very deep perspective toward an extremely high horizon. On the center ridge of the road and in the fields on either side grow pink-orange flowers, identified by the artist as poppies. In the horizon at the left, the artist has inscribed "Böhmen liegt am Meer" (Bohemia lies by the sea).
The artist's iconography is highly original, with complex layers of meaning enriched by irony and contradiction. Kiefer has taken the title of this landscape—Bohemia Lies by the Sea—from that of a famous poem by the renowned Austrian poet Ingeborg Bachmann (who must have been inspired by Shakespeare's stage direction in his play The Winter's Tale, Scene III—Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea). He thereby atttaches to his painting the theme of Bachmann's poem, which is in essence about longing for utopia while recognizing that it can never be found (just as the former kingdom of Bohemia, landlocked in Central Europe, can never lie by the sea).
Να λέω λόγια σκοτεινά Sämtliche Gedichte: Bachmann Ingeborg μτφ Σιδέρη - Speck Ντάντη Εκδ: Νεφέλη