Adjusting a handful of bardsongs
Kategorien: Sprache, gedichtet

Ich bin nun auch auf Mastodon - und zwar auf oulipo.social, wo Symbol 5 vom Symbolvorrat nicht vorkommt. Dort spricht (nun ja: tippt) man lipogrammatisch.

Was folgt, sind Oulipo-Posts von mir: "bardsong adjustings" mit Lipogrammatik-Konformität. Ob William damit wohl okay wär?

 

Bardsong II

If forty rounds of months will tan your skin,

And dig rough furrows in thy charming yard,

Thy youth's proud cloth, so costly now and thin,

Will turn into a rag, dirty and hard:

 

At that point I'll look for your fascination,

At what location it will stand, how small;

Says you, "my looks" - no, that's a fabrication,

Your looks won't justify a claim so tall!

 

But how convincing would your claim turn out,

If you said "This fair child I had,

Shall sum my count, and bring my looks about".

Thus would your fading charm not look so bad.

 

So kids maintain your glamour, as you grow.

You'll think your blood warm, though it is not so.

 

Bardsong XVIII

Shall I contrast you with a sunny day?

Your charm and warmth would win in such a fight.

Rough winds disturb all darling buds of May

And warm days, too, do vanish into night.

 

Sunrays may glow too hot on any day,

And ray-obscuring clouds can spoil your fun,

A radiant hour will not turn out to stay,

As moods of our world show or mask our sun.

 

But you will always stay this warm and kind,

Your charm won't turn out lost, it won't grow old,

You do not bow to dying, it won't bind

Your soul, of which this lowly song has told.

 

So long as guys draw air, and folks can look,

So long stays this, which in your soul partook.

 

Bardsong CXIII

I lost you. Now my sight is in my mind;

And that in which I trust to go about

Doth part his function, and is partly blind,

It looks as if it looks, but it is out;

 

For it no form transports into my thought,

Of bird, or plant, or thing that it's around;

What it doth watch is not to my mind brought,

Nothing, alas, is to my vision bound.

 

For if it spots a good or ugly sight,

A gracious favour or a monstrous foul-thing,

A mountain or a pond, a day or night,

A crow, or stork, it forms that to your liking.

 

I can't watch anything that is not you.

My sight will fool my own mind if I do.

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Esther Seyffarth 2019 • Impressum