This is the second edition of the My Favorite Poems series. The first poem presented was an ode by Pablo Neruda, the discussion of which can be found on my blog. This time the subject is "Nur Zwei Dinge," a poem by Gottfried Benn. It is followed by a translation into English, after which I have posted a recording of both poems. (No, that is not Gottfried Benn's photo on the recording!--It is that of my son, who processed the recording and e-mailed it to me with his photo on it. I couldn't bear to change it!)
Durch so viel Formen geschritten,
durch Ich und Wir und Du,
doch alles blieb erlitten
durch die ewige Frage: wozu?
Das ist eine Kinderfrage.
Dir wurde erst spät bewusst,
es gibt nur eines: ertrage
--ob Sinn, ob Sucht, ob Sage--
dein fern bestimmtes: Du musst.
Ob Rosen, ob Schnee, ob Meere,
was alles erblühte, verblich,
es gibt nur zwei Dinge: die Leere
und das gezeichnete Ich.
--Gottfried Benn
(1886-1956)
Just Two Things
Marched through many views of the world,
through You and We and I,
yet everything's been spoiled
by the eternal question: why?
Such questions do not survive youth.
There's just one thing--you learned late--
endure--mind, madness or myth--
your 'You must' determined by fate.
Whether roses, dahlias, snow--yes,
they all washed away in the rain.
Two things remain: emptiness
and your cursed self, branded like Cain.
--Translated by Thomas Dorsett
Analysis
For me, this is one of the most beautiful poems in the German language. This lovely yet bitter poem is not extraordinary due its content, but due to its technique, namely, in the way it presents that content. It is difficult, and at the time of its composition in 1953, exceedingly difficult, to compose a rhythmically robust and fresh poem while working within the constraints of four-line stanzas with an ABAB rhyme scheme. Poets, especially German poets, had found this form appealing for centuries; by the time of Benn's composition, it was very much 'old hat,' an almost guarantee to the cultured reader that a modern poem that followed this hackneyed scheme would be quite boring. That it is anything but is a tribute to the technical prowess of this poem. (It reminds me in a way of Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito, an opera seria composed in the last year of Mozart's life. By the time of its composition, 1791, the opera seria, glorious examples of which had been composed in the past, was a thing of the past--The somewhat hastily written score is, a rarity among Mozart's late works, a relative "flop," despite some wonderful musical passages).
"Nur Zwei Dinge," perhaps the greatest poem Benn ever wrote, is, to put it mildly, not a flop. That he performed the technical feat that he did while tied up with the constraints of a very strict, old-fashioned form recalls the magic of a Houdini.
The greatness of this poem is due largely to its fusion of music--even discordant music--with meaning. You get an idea of the content when a non-German speaking person listens to a recording in the original. The author does this with a mastery of juxtapositions of vowels and consonants. The long vowels of "so viel Formen" suggest a Sisyphus burden; the regularity of "Ich und Wir und Du' suggest that Sisyphus-Benn not only has a rock on his back, but is walking through mud. The third and fourth lines are read more rapidly and crash into an all-shattering uselessness, "wozu?" " why?
The first line of the second stanza should be read more rapidly as well, shattering iambic constraints. The "why" is a childish question because it is a question asked when one still believes in individual freedom. The stanza ends with an emphasis on "Du musst", "You must"--signifying that the protagonist's life is not only horrible, but foreordained.
The beautiful long syllables of imagined paradises, "ob Rosen ob Schnee ob Meere", are destroyed by the short vowel , lost among consonants, of "verblich" "withered". The rhyme of Meere (seas) with Leere (emptiness) is particularly ingenious--Meere should be pronounced in a bright-voweled dreamy fashion, while Leere, its destructive opposite, is pronounced quietly and with a lower pitch. You can almost hear the self-disgust and the inevitability of "das gezeichnete Ich", which refers to the Cain sign, when those three words are read properly.
Benn flirted with the Nazis in 1933; by 1934 his enthusiasm was gone. He was banned by the Nazis in 1938, and due to his flirtation with the devil, banned by the allies, for a while at least, after the war. The poem is an example of utter self-rejection and despair, the result of a life not well lived.
One can argue with the content of the poem; if everything is determined, for instance, how is self-hate still possible? (The Cain's sign, in this instance, comes from within.)
The most important things in life are, undoubtedly, love and wisdom. This poem can also be seen as a warning as to what happens when one tries to find escape from the self in ways that lead one astray from a life of love and wisdom. No matter how one interprets the poem, however, it remains what it is, truly unforgettable.
The greatness of this poem is due largely to its fusion of music--even discordant music--with meaning. You get an idea of the content when a non-German speaking person listens to a recording in the original. The author does this with a mastery of juxtapositions of vowels and consonants. The long vowels of "so viel Formen" suggest a Sisyphus burden; the regularity of "Ich und Wir und Du' suggest that Sisyphus-Benn not only has a rock on his back, but is walking through mud. The third and fourth lines are read more rapidly and crash into an all-shattering uselessness, "wozu?" " why?
The first line of the second stanza should be read more rapidly as well, shattering iambic constraints. The "why" is a childish question because it is a question asked when one still believes in individual freedom. The stanza ends with an emphasis on "Du musst", "You must"--signifying that the protagonist's life is not only horrible, but foreordained.
The beautiful long syllables of imagined paradises, "ob Rosen ob Schnee ob Meere", are destroyed by the short vowel , lost among consonants, of "verblich" "withered". The rhyme of Meere (seas) with Leere (emptiness) is particularly ingenious--Meere should be pronounced in a bright-voweled dreamy fashion, while Leere, its destructive opposite, is pronounced quietly and with a lower pitch. You can almost hear the self-disgust and the inevitability of "das gezeichnete Ich", which refers to the Cain sign, when those three words are read properly.
Benn flirted with the Nazis in 1933; by 1934 his enthusiasm was gone. He was banned by the Nazis in 1938, and due to his flirtation with the devil, banned by the allies, for a while at least, after the war. The poem is an example of utter self-rejection and despair, the result of a life not well lived.
One can argue with the content of the poem; if everything is determined, for instance, how is self-hate still possible? (The Cain's sign, in this instance, comes from within.)
The most important things in life are, undoubtedly, love and wisdom. This poem can also be seen as a warning as to what happens when one tries to find escape from the self in ways that lead one astray from a life of love and wisdom. No matter how one interprets the poem, however, it remains what it is, truly unforgettable.
