Paula Modersohn-Becker: Rilke, 1906
Autumn Day
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours,
and through the bowers let the windstorm blast.
Beseech Thy latest fruits to fill the vine;
grant them again two southern sunny days,
carry them to fulfillment’s rim and chase
that rest of sweetness into heavy wine.
Who built no home now, shall his home forgo.
Who’s now alone, see loneness never shifting,
shall wake, shall read, be long through letters sifting
and shall in the allée-ways to and fro
hourlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting.
(translated by Rolf-Peter Wille)
Vincent van Gogh: Avenue with two figures, 1885
Rilke’s Revelatory Rhythm
in Herbsttag (Autumn Day)
by Rolf-Peter Wille
Quixotic it may seem to present yet another English translation of Rilke's most famous poem. Yet, when I wander, hourlessly, through those alleys of the Internet in search of verse translations (as opposed to Google ones), I find little to recite with joy. Missing, especially, is a sensitivity to rhythmic character. Herbsttag (Autumn Day) speaks through a revelatory rhythm, a rhythm quite different, for example, from a lyrical ironic one. Rhythmical shifts in stresses, ritenutos (withholdings), accelerandos (quickenings), etc. penetrate each line of Rilke. It is this rhythmic character that distinguishes the three stanzas of Herbsttag. The steady acceleration in the first one, aiming dramatically for "bowers" in the third line, differs from the festive grandeur of the second stanza. The third one, no longer addressing the Lord, seems to fly away into the infinity of those alien "allée-ways".
Such a strategy of contrast ("dialectic" form, "chiastic" structure, etc.) is no invention of Rilke. The musician finds it in sonatas, in sonnets the poet. And the devout in the bible. Herbsttag does have biblical pathos: "LORD, it is time for you [us?] to act"—psalm 119. And it does feel like a sonnet indeed, its meter a five-foot iamb throughout, "masculine" endings alternate with "feminine" ones and the second stanza has an enclosing rhyme: an ABBA. In my attempt to illuminate some of Rilke’s expressive devices I shall thus use the sonnet form as prototype.
Herbsttag’s second stanza, obviously, is a perfect quatrain, a four-line sonnet stanza. It is "chiastic" (cross structure) with the third line rhythmically resembling the second line—the fourth the first. The outer lines feel rather metrical because each foot carries equal weight.. Reciting these lines makes me feel like an indulging preacher.
What about the first stanza? These three lines, if they were the opening "quatrain" of a sonnet, would seem incomplete. Actually they are not. Line 3 contains two possible verse lines. Let me "upgrade" the inner rhyme "hours"/"bowers" to an end rhyme (from ABbA to ABBA):
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours
and let on our meadows and through bowers
the autums wild and savage windstorm(s) blast.
This is a perfect quatrain—and quite a boring one too. Its fourth line drones along with five regular stresses on "au-", "wild", "sa-", "wind-" and "blast". And this droning would instantly infect the first line of the following stanza:
the áutums wíld and sávage wíndstorm blást.
Beséech Thy látest frúits to fíll the víne;
Yet more insipid sounds the stanza without its "biblical" address:
Soon it is time. The summer has been vast.
Now lie on our sun dial the shadows
and on the cornfields and on our meadows
the autums wild and savage windstorm(s) blast
To increase excitement let me shorten the verse now:
The summer has been vast.
Lay, Lord, on sunny-hours
Thy shadow. Through the bowers
let now the windstorm blast.
This shortening stirs more dramatic movement, especially through the enjambment. Compression seems refreshing. It is compression which achieves unrest in Rilke’s original stanza too:
"Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours,
and through the bowers let the windstorm blast."
"Bowers", a possible end rhyme with "hours" is pushed forward. Two verse lines with two rhymes ("bowers", "blast") are compressed into a single line:
and through the bowers
let the windstorm blast.
Contemplate now, for one second or two, a conventional word order in the last line. Instantly the dramatic effect is gone with the wind:
Cast now your shadows on the sunny-hours.
Let wíndstorms blást through áll those bówers.
Rilke’s figure is chiasmus here, inverted parallelism. Against the summer do the winds blast:
---> Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours
|
<--- blast windstorm the let bowers the through and <--- back
His last line has only two strong stresses on "bow-" and "wind-".
-----------------> --------->
and through the bówers let the wíndstorm blast.
How different the first line! Slowly, laconically—though not evenly—begins the summer’s end:
"Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast."
Only simple, "archaic" and—except for "summer" —one-syllable words! This opening of a prayer sounds like a demand:
Lórd:
it is tíme.
The súmmer has been vást.
Lay Thou Thy shádow on the súnny hours,
and through the bówers let the wíndstorm blast.
The archaic "Lord"—the German "Herr" sounds rougher—begets those steadily lengthening exclamations. The tempo is accelerating:
Grave: "Herr:";
Adagio: "es ist Zeit.";
Andante: "Der Sommer war sehr groß.";
Moderato: "Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren.";
Allegro: "und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los."
The vowels in the German version are gradually darkening from the bright "e" and "ei" via the summerly "o", the shadowy "a", to the dark "u" sounds. That dark "u" will reappear in the "unruhig" at the end of the poem. In my translation I use a relatively dark "ou/ow" ("hours", "bowers", "hourlessly").
Our "sunny-hours" (actually "sun dials", …less viable rhythmically…) is the pivot here, or Janus head, with "sunny" pointing backwards to Nature/summer whereas "hours" foreshadows the future/autumn of man. Impressive how "Fluren" opposes "-uhren" forcing a dramatic change in direction! Rilke employs sound color as the agent of rhythm. Should not a translation attempt to render this inner rhyme, this chiasmus? I use "hours" and "bowers". "Bowers" is not "Fluren", feels more idyllic, but prosody does have priority. "De la musique avant toute chose." (Verlaine)
I want to return to the lordly "Lord", who starts in "Grave" here and without a softening upbeat. An opening "Oh" would certainly sound more "lyrical":
Oh Lord, sweet summer says adieu.
The leaves are falling, peu à peu.
"Lord: it is time" is cut into stone. Do not beg for a postponement of autumn. The word "autumn" is avoided. Neither do we long for the winter fairy nor for Santa Claus. Let us be composed, take a delight, even, in the unleashing of those winds which will blow us away.
_____
"Beseech Thy latest fruits to fill the vine;
grant them again two southern sunny days,
carry them to fulfillment’s rim and chase
that rest of sweetness into heavy wine."
How different this second, "southern" stanza with its accumulation of stresses! "Ä" and "ü" sounds—in the German version—have replaced the simple vowels and instead of archaic one-syllable words long melodious ones are singing; three-, even four-syllable ones such as "südlichere" ("southern sunny" in my version). I would love to recite these words with a "southern" "Italianate" accent stretching the vowels with a rather kitschy pathos.
Gieb iehnen noch zwei sühdlichärä Tahgä
"Use the imperative!", seems to be the motto of this stanza. It doesn’t feel as imperious as the first one though. Like a request it sounds, not a demand. "Grant" and "carry" ("Drräängge sie") are retaining the tempo and may feel rather imploring in an "emotional" scanning. This retention is offset by the unusual "chase" which provokes an accelerating enjambment to "sweetness". Our Lord is quite an energetic one: He lets the windstorm blast and chases the sweetness into the wine. This energy connects the two stanzas and helps us digest the heavy wine.
If this poem is about energy, why has Rilke not forced his second stanza into the compact corset of the first one?
Rise: make them full. With lushness them endow.
Grant southern fruits more roundness, more completeness
and chase Thy sweetness into winegrapes now.
More dramatic sound the verses in this concise form. Contrast is lost though! Read both stanzas successively:
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours
and through the bowers let the windstorm blast.
Rise: make them full. With lushness them endow.
Grant southern fruits more roundness, more completeness
and chase Thy sweetness into winegrapes now.
In my "forgery" the second stanza acts as a rhythmical parody of the first one. Ironical perhaps, but the "dialectic" antithesis to the first stanza is missing. The original second stanza behaves somewhat like a slow movement does in a sonata. Not a relaxed Adagio though but one with pent-up power to which the "chiastic" AB-BA form contributes.
Yet: Herbsttag is not just about divine energy. It wants to reveal the distinct effects of divine power through evoking them: fruition in the second versus dissipation in the third stanza.
_____
And here now the third stanza:
"Who built no house now, shall his house forgo.
Who’s now alone, see loneness never shifting,
shall wake, shall read, be long through letters sifting
and shall in the allée-ways to and fro
hourlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting."
Let me for fun try to compress these five lines into a prototypal quatrain:
Some built no house and have no home to show.
They are alone and stay so never shifting.
They wake and read through endless letters sifting
and wander in the alleys to and fro.
This would be a report in three sentences. Similar caesuras at the end of the lines are nicely separating them. Rilke’s stanza however feels not just stretched out but rhetorically estranged as well. The "narrator’s" intent has shifted. So has the decorum: no demands anymore, no prayers to the Lord, no pleading. These are exclamations of regret—deploring instead of imploring: Ah, who built no home now…" "Who is alone, alas…"
An "Autumn Scene" by Friedrich Hebbel opens with an admiring exclamation:
"This is a fall day like I never saw!"
There is no admiration in Rilke’s exclamations here. The two repetitions of "who" are followed by three "shall" in the sub clauses. Is this the prophetic "shall" of the Revelation ("there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth")? Forgotten are those well rounded southern grapes. Why does not the wine offer us consolation like in Theodor Storm’s "October Song":
"Let rise the fog, the leaves let fall;
Sweet wine shall us embolden!
We want to turn this grayish day
To golden, yes, to golden!"
Should not Rilke have written:
Hast thou no house? Oh, worry not—be fine!
Art thou alone? Be brave! Invite thy friends!
Thou shalt on Christmas see the candles shine,
sit at the fire, dream of southern lands,
sing carols sweet and warm thine heart with wine.
A cozy scene—but it touches us not. Rilke’s last stanza haunts us with its images of displacement and unrest, that wandering to and fro in the (infinitely long) "Alleen" and the drifting leaves. "Alleen", by the way is the only "alien" (non-Germanic) word in Herbsttag and in my translation I avoided "Latin" words ("command", "perfection", "final", "dial" even) in the first two stanzas. "Alleen", allez, allez, allez, conjures up a surreal image of the elegantly infinite. Perhaps we may not promenade into Gregor Samsa here, but it’s alienating nevertheless (both Rilke and Kafka are from Prague). We are especially haunted by the prophetic "shall" (and I prefer it to "will").
In recitation I instinctively take a long rest after the second stanza and feel tempted to change the color of my voice in the third one which seems to rise from a different space. Such a shift in tone is typical for the last two tercets of a sonnet or for the last movement of a Beethoven sonata—often a ghost of the first movement ("Storm", "Appassionata"). In this regard Rilke’s third stanza could not just be seen as a quatrain but perhaps rather as a shortened sestet:
Who built no house now, will her house forgo.
Who’s now alone, see loneliness ne’er shifting,
shall wake, shall read—long hours come and go.
She will be lonely through long letters sifting
and will in tree-lined alleys to and fro
aimlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting
Give thanks unto the Lord that Rilke did not end his (His?) "Autumn Day" thus but that he gave us five lines and two phrases only! The feeling of displacement appears intensified in this alienated form. The second sentence wanders through a very long alley, four verse lines, very restlessly indeed as its tempo sometimes slows down like in "wander", "read", "long letters", then suddenly goes forward again: "and shall in the allée-ways to an fro". So it is drifting in the wind. The most restless word is "restlessly" (I replaced it with "hourlessly" here because it must relate to the first stanza). We want to stress the first syllable of "ún-ruhig" but the iamb demands an un-rú-hig and thus we shall vacillate, sway like a leaf.
"Unruhig", or "hourlessly", is the most expressive attribute in this stanza as Rilke avoided descriptive words as "lonesome", or "shuddering". "Wake", "read", "wander" are very prosaic verbs, which would fit into any season. Rilke achieves the restless effect solely through sound and rhythm:
and shall in the allée-ways tó and fró
hóurlessly wánder, when the léaves are drifting..
The normal word order has been displaced (even more so in German!):
and shall [1] |, | in the allée-ways [2]|,
|wander [5]| | hourlessly [4]| | to and fro [3]| | when the leaves are drifting [6]
Likewise Rilke’s dissimilar stanzas are wandering to and fro. There is no linear development. The to and fro of the wanderer and of the leaves does not result from the southern fruits and the heavy wine of the second stanza but from the windstorm of the first. The third stanza displaces the motives of the first into the ghostly driven (not as inhumanely though as the Finale of Chopin’s "Funeral March Sonata"):
it is time -> no time, to build a house;
lay Thy shadow on the sunny-hours -> be alone and wakeful;
let the winstorm blast -> restlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting.
The Lord lets the winds blow
commands the fruits
man
and leaves
drift
_____
As a conclusion—but there is nothing concluding in "Autumn Day" —I present my two "forgeries" again as compared to the original.
First "forgery": sonnet in "Adagio" (second stanza unchanged):
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours
and let on our meadows and through bowers
the autums wild and savage windstorm blast.
Beseech Thy latest fruits to fill the vine;
grant them again two southern sunny days,
carry them to fulfillment’s rim and chase
that rest of sweetness into heavy wine.
Who built no house now, will his house forgo.
Who’s now alone, see loneness never shifting,
shall wake, shall read—long hours come and go.
He will be lonely through long letters sifting
and will in tree-lined alleys to and fro
restlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting
Second forgery: "Vivace" - the second and third stanzas are rhythmic parodies of the first one:
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours
and through the bowers let the windstorm blast.
Rise: make them full. With lushness them endow.
Grant southern fruits more roundness, more completeness
and chase Thy sweetness into winegrapes now.
Woe! Have no house. I shall my home forgo,
shall lonely wake when autumn leaves decay
and shall now stray in alleys to and fro.
The original in translation:
Autumn Day
Lord: it is time. The summer has been vast.
Lay Thou Thy shadow on the sunny-hours,
and through the bowers let the windstorm blast.
Beseech Thy latest fruits to fill the vine;
grant them again two southern sunny days,
carry them to fulfillment’s rim and chase
that rest of sweetness into heavy wine.
Who built no house now, shall his house forgo.
Who’s now alone, see loneness never shifting,
shall wake, shall read, be long through letters sifting
and shall in the allée-ways to and fro
hourlessly wander, when the leaves are drifting.
(tr. by Rolf-Peter Wille)
____
here is the original German:
Herbsttag
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.
Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.
_____
other translations by Rolf-Peter Wille:
The Dance ("Der Tanz" from "Faust" by Nikolaus Lenau)
The Heath Lad ("Der Heideknabe" by Friedrich Hebbel)
Wrong Suspicion ("Falscher Verdacht" by Eugen Roth)
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