#johnirons — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #johnirons, aggregated by home.social.
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Friedrich Hölderlin,
HALF OF LIFE (1797)With yellow pears full-laden // And covered with wild roses // Land slips into lake, // You swans alluring, // And drunken with kisses // Dipping your heads // In sacred-sobering water. //
Ah me, where will I, when // The winter’s come, find flowers, // and where // The sunshine and // The shadows of the earth? // The walls all stand // Speechless and cold, the wind-caught // Weather-vanes clatter. //
Tr John Irons
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Friedrich Hölderlin,
HALF OF LIFE (1797)With yellow pears full-laden // And covered with wild roses // Land slips into lake, // You swans alluring, // And drunken with kisses // Dipping your heads // In sacred-sobering water. //
Ah me, where will I, when // The winter’s come, find flowers, // and where // The sunshine and // The shadows of the earth? // The walls all stand // Speechless and cold, the wind-caught // Weather-vanes clatter. //
Tr John Irons
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Friedrich Hölderlin,
HALF OF LIFE (1797)With yellow pears full-laden // And covered with wild roses // Land slips into lake, // You swans alluring, // And drunken with kisses // Dipping your heads // In sacred-sobering water. //
Ah me, where will I, when // The winter’s come, find flowers, // and where // The sunshine and // The shadows of the earth? // The walls all stand // Speechless and cold, the wind-caught // Weather-vanes clatter. //
Tr John Irons
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Friedrich Hölderlin,
HALF OF LIFE (1797)With yellow pears full-laden // And covered with wild roses // Land slips into lake, // You swans alluring, // And drunken with kisses // Dipping your heads // In sacred-sobering water. //
Ah me, where will I, when // The winter’s come, find flowers, // and where // The sunshine and // The shadows of the earth? // The walls all stand // Speechless and cold, the wind-caught // Weather-vanes clatter. //
Tr John Irons
-
Friedrich Hölderlin,
HALF OF LIFE (1797)With yellow pears full-laden // And covered with wild roses // Land slips into lake, // You swans alluring, // And drunken with kisses // Dipping your heads // In sacred-sobering water. //
Ah me, where will I, when // The winter’s come, find flowers, // and where // The sunshine and // The shadows of the earth? // The walls all stand // Speechless and cold, the wind-caught // Weather-vanes clatter. //
Tr John Irons