Reconfiguring Romanticism (23): Mignon's Song by Goethe

Translation from German by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Jerome Rothenberg

Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn,
Im dunkeln Laub die Gold-Orangen glühn,
Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht,
Kennst du es wohl?
Dahin! Dahin
Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Geliebter, ziehn!

Kennst du das Haus? Auf Säulen ruht sein Dach,
Es glänzt der Saal, es schimmert das Gemach,
Und Marmorbilder stehn und sehn mich an:
Was hat man dir, du armes Kind, getan?
Kennst du es wohl?
Dahin! Dahin
Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Beschützer, ziehn!

Kennst du den Berg und seinen Wolkensteg?
Das Maultier sucht im Nebel seinen Weg,
In Höhlen wohnt der Drachen alte Brut,
Es stürzt der Fels und über ihn die Flut:
Kennst du ihn wohl?
Dahin! Dahin
Geht unser Weg! o Vater, laß uns ziehn!

Know’st thou the land where the pale citrons grow,
The golden fruits in darker foliage glow?
Soft blows the wind that breathes from that blue sky!
Still stands the myrtle and the laurel high!
Know’st thou it well, that land, beloved Friend?
Thither with thee, O, thither would I wend!

Know'st thou the house? The roof set on its beams,
Whose rooms stream light, whose inmost chamber gleams?
And marble statues steadfast stare at me!
Thou my pooor child, what have men made of thee?
Know'st thou it well, that house, thou surest guide?
Thither with thee, O, thither would I ride!

Know’st thou the hill where clouds obscure the way,
Where mules amongst its fogs wander astray!
Deep in those caves the dragon guards his brood,
The cliffside plunges down and then the flood!
Know’st thou it well, that hill? O father, hear!
Thither our way, O, thither let us steer!

N.B. Coleridge’s shot at translating the song from Goethe’s novel, The Apprenticeship of Wilhelm Mister, got as far as the initial stanza & petered out. In the process of assembling Poems for the Millennium, volume 3, I found myself enough attracted to what Coleridge had done, to try to emulate his voice over the remaining two stanzas. Our version, needless to say, is more poeticized than Goethe’s original, but the pleasure of channeling Samuel more than makes up for it – at least for me.