To je lug stari, lug pricâ pun!
Mirisu lipe u cvatu,
Omamio me mjesecev sjaj
U kasnom nocnom satu.
Pod stablima idem, a prati moj hod
Pjev zvucan sto pada s visoka.
Slavujak pjeva svoj ljubavni bol
I sjetu svog srca duboka.
O ljubavi prica, o svemu sto krije
— Smijeh i plac — na dnu svojih grudi;
Sad veselo place, sad tuzno se smije:
Roj sanja minulih budi.
Pod stablima idem u bijelu noc,
I lutajuc onuda stigoh
Na cistinu neku, gdje zamak je krov
Visoko k nebesima digo.
Okna na njemu su zaprta; svuda
Tisina u sjenama gustim,
Reko bih, da se prosetala smrt
Po onim dvorima pustim.
Pred vratima Sfinga, taj dvogubi stvor.
Strah i slast su biljege njene.
Ko u lava sape i snazni joj trup,
Glava i grud ko u zene;
Ko u lijepe zene. — Gled govori njen
O ceznjama divljim; a usta
Su nijema — al' posmijeh zna ipak ti reci
Da zud ne ce ostati pusta.
Slavujak pjevo sve milije. Meni
Sâm ne znam, kako je bilo.
Lijepo sam lice cjelnuo zeni,
I sa mnom cudo se zbilo.
Ozivio taj mramorni lik.
Kâm poce da dise, sve dublje.
Cjelova mojih je srkala zar
Rastucom zudnjom, sve grublje.
Iz grudi je mojih sav srkala dah
I onda na me je pala.
I svega me stisnu. Jadnu mi put
Pandzama sjeci je stala.
O trpljenja slatkog! I vaja u lasti!
O jade sred radosti mnoge!
Dok poljupca zenskog sve osjecah slasti,
Mrcvarile lavlje me noge.
A slavuj je pjevo kroz bijelu noc:
"O Sfingo! O ljubavi! Recite,
U nasladu cemu vi lijete mlaz
Boli smrtonosne, vjecite?
O lijepa Sfingo! Rasvijetli mi jednom
Tajne jaz cudesan, taman.
O tome sam dugo razmisljao ja
Vec vjekova mnogih — al' zaman."
Heinrich Heine
(1797 - 1856)
Das ist der alte Märchenwald!
Es duftet die Lindenblüte!
Der wunderbare Morgenglanz
Bezaubert mein Gemüte.
Ich ging fürbaß, und wie ich ging,
Erklang es in der Höhe.
Das ist die Nachtigall, sie singt
Von Lieb' und Liebeswehe.
Sie singt von Lieb' und Liebesweh,
Von Tränen und von Lachen,
Sie jubelt so traurig, sie schluchzet so froh,
Vergessene Träume erwachen.
Ich ging fürbaß, und wie ich ging,
Da sah ich vor mir liegen
Auf freiem Platz ein großes Schloß,
Die Giebel hoch aufstiegen.
Verschlossene Fenster, überall
Ein Schweigen und ein Trauern;
Es schien, als wohne der stille Tod
In diesen öden Mauern.
This is the old enchanted wood,
Sweet lime trees scent the wind
The glamor of the moon has cast
A spell upon my mind.
Onward I walk, and, as I walk —
Hark to that high, soft strain!
That is the nightingale, she sings,
Of love and of love's pain.
She sings of love and of love's pain,
Of laughter and of tears.
So plaintive his carol, so joyous her sobs,
I dream of forgotten years.
Onward I walk, and as I walk,
There stands before mine eyes
A castle proud on an open lawn,
Whose gables high uprise.
With casements closed, and everywhere
Sad silence in court and halls,
It seemed as though mute death abode
Within those barren walls.
Dort vor dem Tor lag eine Sphinx,
Ein Zwitter von Schrecken und Lüsten,
Der Leib und die Tatzen wie ein Löw',
Ein Weib an Haupt und Brüsten.
Ein schönes Weib! Der weiße Blick,
Er sprach von wildem Begehren;
Die stummen Lippen wölbten sich
Und lächelten stilles Gewähren.
Die Nachtigall, sie sang so süß —
Ich konnt nicht widerstehen —
Und als ich küßte das holde Gesicht,
Da war's um mich geschehen.
Lebendig ward das Marmorbild,
Der Stein begann zu ächzen —
Sie trank meiner Küsse lodernde
Glut Mit Dürsten und mit Lechzen.
Sie trank mir fast den Odem aus —
Und endlich, wollustheischend,
Umschlang sie mich, meinen armen Leib
Mit den Löwentatzen zerfleischend.
Entzückende Marter und wonniges Weh!
Der Schmerz wie die Lust unermeßlich!
Derweilen des Mundes Kuß mich beglückt,
Verwunden die Tatzen mich gräßlich.
Die Nachtigall sang: "O schöne Sphinx!
O Liebe! was soll es bedeuten,
Daß du vermischest mit Todesqual
All deine Seligkeiten?
O schöne Sphinx! O löse mir
Das Rätsel, das wunderbare!
Ich hab darüber nachgedacht
Schon manche tausend Jahre."
Before the doorway crouched a Sphinx,
Half horror and half grace;
With a lion's body,a lion's claws,
And a woman's breast and face.
A woman fair! The marble glance
Spake wild desire and guile.
The silent lips were proudly curled
In a a confident, glad smile.
The nightingale, she sang so sweet,
I yielded to her tone.
I touched, I kissed the lovely face,
And lo, I was undone!
The marble image stirred with life,
The stone began to move;
She drank my fiery kisses' glow
With panting thirsty love.
She well nigh drank my breath away;
And, lustful still for more,
Embraced me, and my shrinking flesh
With lion claws she tore.
Oh, rapturous martyrdom! ravishing pain!
Oh, infinite anguish and bliss!
With her horrible talons she wounded me,
While she thrilled my soul with a kiss.
The nightingale sang: "Oh beautiful Sphinx,
Oh love! what meaneth this?
That thou minglest still the pangs of death
With thy most peculiar bliss?
Thou beautiful Sphinx, oh solve for me
This riddle of joy and tears!
I have pondered it over again and again,
How many thousand years!"
© 2005 photo by Carmen Ezgeta: Sfinga i velika piramida u Gizi - Die Sphinx - Sphinx & Great Pyramid of Giza; Egipat - Egypt, 2005
© Copyright: graphic arts; animation & design by Carmen Ezgeta
Sfinga — Die Sphinx — The Sphinx
Predgovor trecem izdanju - Vorrede zur dritten Auflage (Buch der Lieder)
Geschrieben zu Paris, den 20. Februar 1839.
preveo Vladimir Nazor translated by Emma Lazarus
(1876 - 1949) (1849 - 1887)
[ Heinrich Heine ]
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