Thursday, November 16, 2017

Ode to Joy - Schiller ~ Beethoven

 
 
 
 
Ode to Joy ("An die Freude")
 
by Friedrich Schiller (Published 1786)
 
Part of this poem was used as the choral finale
(4th movement) in Ludwig van Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
 
 
Ode to Joy (Schiller) - English translation, with notes

Joy, beautiful sparkle of god,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter, fire-drunk,
Heavenly, your holy sanctuary.
Your magics bind again
What custom has strictly parted.
(1785 version: What custom's sword has parted.)
All men become brothers
(1785 version: Beggars become princes' brothers.)
Where your tender wing lingers.
Chorus
Be embraced, millions!
This kiss to the entire world!
Brothers, above the starry canopy
Must a loving Father reside.
Who has succeeded in the great attempt
To be a friend's friend;
Whoever has won a lovely woman
Add in his jubilation!
Yes, who calls even one soul
His own on the earth's sphere!
And whoever never could achieve this,
Let him steal away crying from this gathering!
Chorus
Those who occupy the great circle,
Pay homage to sympathy!
It leads to the stars
Where the unknown one reigns.
 
All creatures drink joy
At the breasts of nature,
All good, all evil
Follow her trail of roses.
Kisses she gave us, and the vine,
A friend, proven in death.
Pleasure was given to the worm,
And the cherub stands before God.
 
Chorus
Do you fall down, you millions?
Do you sense the creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy,
Above the stars he must live
Joy is the name of the strong spring
In eternal nature.
Joy, joy drives the wheels
In the great clock of worlds.
She lures flowers from the buds,
Suns out of the firmament,
She rolls spheres in the spaces
That the seer's telescope does not know.
 
Chorus
Happy, as his suns fly
Across Heaven's splendid map,
Run, brothers, along your path
Joyfully, as a hero to victory.
 
From the fiery mirror of truth
She smiles upon the researcher,
Towards virtue’s steep hill
She guides the endurer’s path.
Upon faith’s sunlit mountain
One sees her banners in the wind,
Through the opening of burst coffins
One sees them standing in the chorus of angels.
 
Chorus
Endure courageously, millions!
Endure for the better world!
There above the starry canopy
A great God will reward
Gods one cannot repay
Beautiful it is, to be like them.
Grief and poverty, acquaint yourselves
With the joyful ones rejoice.
Anger and revenge be forgotten,
Our deadly enemy be forgiven,
No tears shall he shed
No remorse shall gnaw at him
 
Chorus
Our debt registers be abolished
Reconcile the entire world!
Brothers, over the starry canopy
God judges, as we judged.
 
Joy bubbles in the cup,
In the grape’s golden blood
Cannibals drink gentleness
The fearful, courage --
Brothers, fly from your perches,
When the full cup is passed,
Let the foam spray to the heavens
This glass to the good spirit
 
Chorus
He whom the spirals of stars praise,
He whom the seraphim’s hymn glorifies,
This glass to the good spirit
Above the starry canopy
Courage firm in great suffering,
Help there, where innocence weeps,
Eternally sworn oaths,
Truth towards friend and foe,
Men's pride before kings’ thrones --
Brothers, even if it costs property and blood, --
The crowns to those who earn them,
Defeat to the lying brood!
 
Chorus
Close the holy circle tighter,
Swear by this golden vine:
Remain true to the vows,
Swear by the judge above the stars!
(The 1803 version ends here; the 1785 version continues with the following.)
Escape the tyrants’ chains,
Generosity also to the villain,
Hope upon the deathbeds,
Mercy from the high court!
The dead, too, shall live!
Brothers, drink and chime in,
All sinners shall be forgiven,
And hell shall be no more.
Chorus
A serene departing hour!
Sweet sleep in the shroud!
Brothers—a mild sentence
From the final judge!
(Other translations may differ)

Beethoven Choral (English translation)

(Baritone)

Oh, friends, not these tones!
Let us raise our voices in more
Pleasing and more joyful sounds!

(Baritone, Quarter, and Chorus)

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire imbibed,
Heavenly, thy sanctuary.

The magic reunites those
Whom stern custom has parted;
All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.

May he who has had the fortune
To gain a true friend
And he who has won a noble wife
Join in our jubilation!

Yes, even if he calls but one soul
His own in all the world.
But he who has failed in this
Must steal away alone and in tears.

All the world's creatures
Draw joy from nature's breast;
Both the good and the evil
Follow her rose-strewn path.

She gave us kisses and wine
And a friend loyal unto death;
She gave lust for life to the lowliest,
And the Cherub stands before God.

(Tenor Solo and Chorus)

Joyously, as his suns speed
Through Heaven's glorious order,
Hasten, Brothers, on your way,
Exulting as a knight in victory.

(Chorus)

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire imbibed,
Heavenly, thy sanctuary.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

(The verses repeat here until . . .)

Joy, Daughter of Elysium,
Thy magic reunites those
Whom stern custom has parted;
All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!,
Daughter of Elysium,
Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!

(Other translations may differ)

Beethoven was completely deaf when he wrote the Ninth Symphony.

Hear the instrumental version here: https://youtu.be/Wod-MudLNPA 

or with German lyrics here: https://youtu.be/-kcOpyM9cBg


Happy Thanksgiving!


 
Dawn Pisturino


     



Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Chelsea had a Little Lamb





Artwork by Ken Lamug

Poem by Dawn Pisturino


CHELSEA HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Chelsea had a little lamb,
Its fleece was black as soot. 
And everywhere that Chelsea went,
That lamb was underfoot.

It followed her to school until
The cooking class went wild
And served that lamb with mint and dill,
One chop for every child!

October 6, 2011

Published in the December 2011 issue of


Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!


Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Ashes




Graphic by Rebekah Joy Plett

Limerick by Dawn Pisturino


Ashes

A man with a hairy mustache,
Tried to smoke and was turned into ash.
His body was gone, but his ghost lingered on
To sweep himself up for the trash.

July 12, 2011

Published in the September 2011 issue of

Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

The Cannibal and his Dog




Graphics by Rebekah Joy Plett
Limerick by Dawn Pisturino


The Cannibal and his Dog

A cannibal walking his dog,
Got hungry and sat on a log.
"I'll start with the spleen.
This dog is too lean.
I shouldn't have taught him to jog!"

July 19, 2011

Published July 31, 2011 in the Underneath the Juniper Tree
Sunday Poetry category

Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.


Thursday, October 12, 2017

The Old Man from Brazil


    Graphic by Rebekah Plett
            
                Limerick by Dawn Pisturino          
    
The Old Man from Brazil
       There was an old man from Brazil
       Who ate 'til he made himself ill.
        "It's always a treat to eat mangled meat.
      I relish the taste of road kill!"
July 14, 2011
Published July 16, 2011 on the
Published in the August 2011 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree.
The Old Man from Brazil I
There was an old man from Brazil
Who ate 'til he made himself ill.
He gave up the ghost, said good-bye to his host,
And flew home to his house on the hill.
July 7, 2011
 Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

The Man in Galloway Bay



Graphic by Rebekah Plett
Limericks by Dawn Pisturino


The Man in Galloway Bay

A man lost in Galloway Bay,
Cried out in a very loud bray,
"Please come rescue me, hungry sharks can't agree,
Am I breakfast or dinner entree?"

July 11, 2011

Published on Underneath the Juniper Tree website, July 12, 2011


The Man in Galloway Bay II

A man lost in Galloway Bay,
Cried out in a very loud bray,
"I'm lost in the sea, someone please rescue me!
The fishermen think I'm filet!"

July 11, 2011


The Man in Galloway Bay I

A man lost in Galloway Bay,
Cried out in a very loud bray,
"I'm lost in the sea, someone please rescue me!
I've been swimming for more than a day!"

July 7, 2011


Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Legacy




by Dawn Pisturino

 
                                                                       
For My Grandmother
 
A handful of trinkets.
All that remains of a life which spanned for sixty years
Through childbirth labor and marital pain,
Poverty and hunger and religious faith.
Everything you touched and cherished and dreamed,
Lost forever to mildew and decay,
And the least which survives --
Just a tiny fragment of yesterday.
The old home place no longer stands:
Its groaning walls were bulldozed to the ground;
And the Dutiful Daughter who stayed by your side
Rots away in a back ward dungeon.
How you would writhe and torment in your grave,
Realizing the legacy you left behind
Is nothing more than ashes and dust;
As dead as yourself; and mourned as much.
 
October 4, 1987
 
Won Honorable Mention in World of Poetry's New Golden Poetry Contest. Published in the New American Poetry Anthology, 1988. Won Golden Poet Award for 1988 from World of Poetry.
 
Copyright 1987-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.


Monday, July 3, 2017

America's Poet -- Walt Whitman



 
 
Selections from Leaves of Grass
 
by Walt Whitman
 
I Hear America Singing
 
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing
       on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning,
       or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl
       sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day -- at night the party of young fellows,
       robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
1860/1867
 
For You, O Democracy
 
Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands,
       With the love of comrades,
         With the life-long love of comrades.
 
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of
       America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over
       the prairies,
I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other's necks,
       By the love of comrades,
         By the manly love of comrades,
For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme!
For you, for you I am trilling these songs.
1860/1881
 
Long, Too Long America
 
Long, too long America,
Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and prosperity only,
But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing, grappling with direst fate and recoiling
       not,
And now to conceive and show to the world what your children en masse really are,
(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en masse really are?)
1865/1881
 
America
 
Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law, and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair'd in the adamant of Time.
1888/1888-9
 
One Song, America, Before I Go
 
One song, America, before I go,
I'd sing, o'er all the rest, with trumpet sound,
For thee -- the Future.
 
I'd sow a seed for thee of endless Nationality;
I'd fashion thy Ensemble, including Body and Soul;
I'd show, away ahead, the real Union, and how it may be accomplish'd.
 
(The paths to the House I seek to make,
But leave to those to come, the House itself.)
 
Belief I sing -- and Preparation;
As Life and Nature are not great with reference to the Present only,
But greater still from what is to come,
Out of that formula for Thee I sing.
1872
 
BIO: Walt Whitman (1819-1892) worked as a printer, newspaper editor, and school teacher. He published the first edition of Leaves of Grass in 1855 at his own expense. During the Civil War, he nursed wounded and dying soldiers in military hospitals. He is best known for his observations about 19th century American life and the Civil War -- and his poems dedicated to President Abraham Lincoln. 
 



Thursday, May 18, 2017

The Queen of Hearts

 


 
The Queen of Hearts made cherry tarts
On Cupid's Special Day.
The Knave of Hearts threw out those tarts
And stole the Queen away.

 
His bow was strong, his arrows sharp,
He drew with deadly force.
His missile pierced the tender heart,
Killing her, of course.
 
With hungry zeal, he yanked the heart

From Queenie's bloody chest
And feasted on her royal blood,
Rating it the best!
 
Dawn Pisturino
December 16, 2011
 
Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Poems by Joaquin Miller






The Voice of the Dove
Come, listen O love, to the voice of the dove,
Come, hearken and hear him say,
"There are many Tomorrows, my love, my love,
There is only one Today."
Dedicated to his daughter, Juanita, on her 10th birthday.

 

MOUNT SHASTA

To lord all Godland! lift the brow


Familiar to the moon, to top


The universal world, to prop


The hollow heavens up, to vow


Stern constancy with stars, to keep


Eternal watch while eons sleep;


To tower proudly up and touch


God's purple garment-hems that sweep


The cold blue north! Oh, this were much!

Where storm-born shadows hide and hunt


I knew thee, in thy glorious youth,


And loved thy vast face, white as truth;


I stood where thunderbolts were wont


To smite thy Titan-fashioned front,


And heard dark mountains rock and roll;


I saw the lightning's gleaming rod


Reach forth and write on heaven's scroll


The awful autograph of God!

 
The Ship in the Desert
II
By Arizona's sea of sand
Some bearded miners, gray and old,
And resolute in search of gold,
Sat down to tap the savage land.
They tented in a canñon's mouth
That gaped against the warm wide south,
And underneath a wave-wash'd wall,
Where now nor rains nor winds may fall,
They delved the level salt-white sands
For gold, with bold and hornéd hands.
A miner stood beside his mine,
He pull'd his beard, then look'd away
Across the level sea of sand,
Beneath his broad and hairy hand,
A hand as hard as knots of pine.
"It looks so like a sea," said he.
He pull'd his beard, and he did say,
"It looks just like a dried-up sea."
Again he pull'd that beard of his,
But said no other thing than this.
A stalwart miner dealt a stroke,
And struck a buried beam of oak.
An old ship's beam the shaft appear'd,
With storm-worn faded figure-head.
The miner twisted, twirled his beard,
Lean'd on his pick-axe as he spoke:
"'Tis from some long-lost ship," he said,
"Some laden ship of Solomon
That sail'd these lonesome seas upon
In search of Ophir's mine, ah me!
That sail'd this dried-up desert sea." ...
Nay, nay, 'tis not a tale of gold,
But ghostly land storm-slain and old.
 
 
 
 
BIO: "Joaquin Miller" was the pseudonym for Cincinnatus Heine Miller, who was born September 8, 1837 and died February 17, 1913. He is celebrated as the "Poet of the Sierras." He moved to California during the Gold Rush Era and became a frontier man. His adventures in the West included Indian fighting, mining camp cook, lawyer, judge, newspaper writer and editor, Pony Express Rider, and horse thief. He was a Confederate sympathizer. In 1897, he traveled to Alaska as a newspaper correspondent. He had a lifelong reputation for dishonesty and womanizing. His wife, Theresa Dyer Miller, divorced him for neglect.
 
 

Monday, March 6, 2017

Silly Poems by Dawn Pisturino






My Grandmother's Nose

My grandmother's nose was too long for her face
So it lay ninety years on the floor.
It was longer by half than my poor Grandma Grace,
And it weighed not a feather-weight more.

She was scorned on the morn
Of the day that she was born,
But my grandmother took it in stride.
She colored that schnozzola
With a cherry red Crayola
And painted yellow polka dots inside!

April 12, 2012

Raggedy Ann Loses Heart

Raggedy Ann liked to dress up and play
By the fire on a cold winter day.
When flames burned her dress, she cried in distress
As her candy heart melted away.

November 1, 2011

The Postman and the Snail

A postman delivering mail
Was attacked by a slithery snail.
Quickly, he trod on that fierce gastropod,
Fighting him off tooth and nail!

July 19, 2011

The Sailor and the Whale (1)

A sailor who kidnapped a whale
Got the ransom but landed in jail.
"Am I dumb!" said the crumb,
As he sucked on his thumb.
"I shouldn't have sent him by mail!"

July 19, 2011

The Sailor and the Whale (2)

A sailor who kidnapped a whale
Got the ransom but landed in jail.
"Am I dumb!" said the crumb,
As he sucked on his thumb.
"There isn't enough to make bail!"

July 19, 2011

The Man from New York

There was a young man from New York
Who stuffed down a very large pork.
He doubled in size, for he wasn't too wise,
And popped off his head like a cork!

July 11, 2011

Dawn Pisturino
Copyright 2011-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.



Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Where is the Good Lord? (In French and English)






Où est le bon Dieu?
pour J.J.
Où est le bon Dieu
Quand j’ai besoin de lui?
     Il est ici, dans ma coeur,
     Mon esprit, et mon ậme.

Où est le bon Dieu
Quand je ne le vois pas?
     Il est là, avec le soleil,
     La lune, et les étoiles;
L’oiseau dans le ciel
Et le loup dans le forệt.
Il est avec mes amis, mes ennemies,
     Et moi-mệme;
Dans les montagnes et les vallées,
Partout et nulle part;
Avec le bien et le mal,
Le plus grand et le moindre;
     Il est tout et rien:
          Il soit.

9 Septembre 1985

Where is the Good Lord? 
For J.J.

Where is the good Lord
When I need Him?
     He is here, in my heart,
     My spirit, and my soul.

Where is the good Lord
When I cannot see Him?
     He is here, in the sun,
     The moon, and the stars;
The bird in the sky
And the wolf in the forest.
He is with my friends, my enemies,
     And myself.
In the mountains and the valleys,
Everywhere and nowhere;
With the good and the bad,
The greatest and the least;
     He is all and nothing:
          He is.

September 9, 1985

Poem and Photo by Dawn Pisturino
©1985-2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.