Lost in the fire of last year's Pierrot centennial was translation. After all, it was Otto Erich Hartleben's German--translated from the original French of Albert Giraud--that Arnold Schoenberg had set.
And with Stanley Appelbaum's Anglicised Hartleben turning 20 next year (not to mention having its own Twitter account @PierrotTweets), Classicalite figured a new English language translation was passed due.
You moon, gloomy and sick to death There on the black cushion of the sky,
— Pierrot (@PierrotTweets) May 31, 2011
To wit, for the next 21 weekdays, we'll be offering a new take on each of Giraud/Hartleben/Appelbaum's 3x7 poems...alongside some of our favorite performances.
SICK MOON
O moon, somber and death-stricken
There on heaven's black pillow,
Your wide-eyed, feverish stare
Casts a spell on me like a faraway tune.
You are about to die a yearing gloom.
Dead of thirst, love completely stifled,
O moon, somber and death-stricken
There on heaven's black pillow.
The lover, his heart aflame,
Heedlessly off to meet his lover,
Rejoices in the play of your beams--
Your pallid, pain-spoiled blood
O moon, somber and death-stricken.
Up next: "Nacht (Passacaglia)"
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