/FontWeight 400 22 0 obj /DescendantFonts [38 0 R] /MaxWidth 1735 << And it is not yet enough to have memories. /Font
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/S /URI | ISBN 9780307787767 Flag this item for. /FontBBox [-1020 -415 1680 1166]
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926) was one of the greatest lyric German-language poets. You must be able to forget them when they are many, and you must have the immense patience to wait until they return. /Flags 40 The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge is Rilke’s major prose work and was one of the earliest publications to introduce him to American readers.
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/A /ProcSet [/PDF /Text /ImageB /ImageC /ImageI] One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. Only when they are become the very blood within us, our every look and gesture, nameless and no longer distinguishable from our inmost self, only then, in the rarest of hours, can the first word of a poem arise in their midst and go out from among them. 39 0 obj
For it is the memories themselves that matter. In 1897 he met Lou Andreas-Salomé, the talented and spirited daughter of a Russian army… More about Rainer Maria Rilke, "An almost perfect equivalent for the original."
And still it is not yet enough to have memories. /CIDSystemInfo
One must have memories of many nights of love, no two alike; of the screams of women in labour; and of pale, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again.
/Border [0 0 0] About The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge This is the definitive, widely acclaimed translation of the major prose work of one of our century’s greatest poets — "a masterpiece like no other" (Elizabeth Hardwick) — Rilke’s only novel, extraordinary for its structural uniqueness and purity of language.
/Ascent 928 /DeSaBoDYNL~1428063306 27 0 R /DeSaDYNM~1428063306 29 0 R Nov 27, 1990 /URI (http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/mod/summary/v020/20.4.tobias.html) /Type /Font
All I have heard is that Pike's is more accurate to the German but Mitchell's is more readable. Thank you.
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/Name /DeSaDYNO~1428063306 For the memories are not what's essential. And it is still not enough to have memories.
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<< >> /W [0 [600] 3 [317] 43 [751] 45 [294] 51 [603] 56 [731] 69 [634] 71 [634 615] 75 [633 277] 78 [579 277] 81 [633 611 634] 85 [411 520 392 633 591] 92 [591]] In order to write a single line, one must see a great many cities, people and things, have an understanding of animals, sense how it is to be a bird in flight, and know the manner in which the little flowers open every morning. One must be able to forget them when they are many and one must have the immense patience to wait until they come again. /Filter /FlateDecode /Annots [21 0 R] For it is not the memories in themselves that are of consequence. But it is still not enough to have memories. /AvgWidth 554 And having memories is still not enough. Read the Book Behind the Showtime Limited Series, Ina Garten's Latest Cozy and Delicious Recipes, Books Sure to Be on Everyone’s Holiday List, Audiobooks Read By Your Favorite Celebrities, Chilling Audiobooks for a Haunting Halloween. /BaseFont /DejaVuSans endobj /JxDYNK 30 0 R >> One has to be able to forget them, if there are a great many, and one must have great patience, to wait for their return. You have to be able to forget them again, if there are many, and you must have the immense patience to be able to wait until they return. /StemV 0 /CropBox [0 0 612 792] <<
First published in 1910, it has proven to be one of the most influential and enduring works of fiction of our century.Malte Laurids Brigge is a young Danish nobleman and poet living in Paris. endobj
Editor's Picks: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Discover Book Picks from the CEO of Penguin Random House US. One must be able to think back to roads in unfamiliar regions, unexpected encounters, and partings which one saw coming long before; one must be able to think back to those days in one's childhood that are still unexplained, to one's parents whom one could not help offending when they brought a delightful gift and one didn't appreciate it (it was a delight for someone else), to those childhood illnesses which arose so peculiarly and with so many profound and difficult changes, to those days in peaceful and secluded rooms, and to those mornings by the sea, to the sea anywhere, to seas, to nights of travel that swept along high above, flying with the stars; and it's still not enough, even when one's allowed to think of everything one can.
If it helps, here is an excerpt of the book, in seven different translations (I went over the character limit, so this will have to be split into two comments): John Linton (published under the title The Journal of my Other Self): To write a single verse, one must see many cities, and men and things; one must get to know animals and the flight of birds, and the gestures that the little flowers make when they open out to the morning. Tell us what you've enjoyed in the past, or what you're looking for, and let the community suggest a book (or books) for you to read! I want to read The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge by Rilke but there are so many translations that and no good articles (besides one comparing Mitchell's and Pike's translations). Born in Prague, he published his first book of poems, Leben und Lieber, at age 19. The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge Item Preview remove-circle Share or Embed This Item . >> Buy. No_Favorite.
Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which resembled another, of screams in the delivery room and of easy, pale, sleeping women delivered, who are closing themselves.
>> Every translation comparison I've found focuses on the poems, his prose doesn't get much attention at all. 21 0 obj EMBED (for wordpress.com hosted blogs and archive.org item
Thanks ahead of time.
One must be able to think back to paths in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings one long saw coming; to childhood days that are still not understood, to parents one had to hurt when they brought one a joy and one did not understand it (it was a joy to someone else); to childhood illnesses that set in so strangely with so many profound and heavy transformations, to days in quiet, muted rooms and to mornings by the sea, the sea altogether, to nights travelling that rushed up and away and flew with all the stars; and if one can think of all that, it is still not enough. /Subtype /Type0 ): To write one line of verse you need to see many cities, people, and things, you have to know the animals, you have to feel how the birds fly, and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning. /DW 1735 For the sake of a single poem, you must see many cities, many people and Things, you must understand animals, must feel how birds fly, and know the gesture which small flowers make when they open in the morning.
One must have memories of many nights of love--no two nights the same — of the cries of women in labour and of pale, white, sleeping women who have given birth and are now closing again.
But one must also have been with the dying, one must have sat in a room with the dead with the window open and random noises coming in. /Encoding /Identity-H Obsessed with death and with the reality that lurks behind appearances, Brigge muses on his family and their history and on the teeming, alien life of the city. /StemH 0 /Length 47204 /Type /Pages Determine it yourself if possible, or, in case of doubt, give me two places to choose … (I'm fascinated by the differences between the translations as well.) /CIDToGIDMap /Identity
And it is not yet enough to have memories. I've just done some searching, and you're right, there really isn't any criticism or comparison of this novels English translations.
Graphic Violence ; Graphic Sexual Content ; texts. /HelvDYNN~1428063306 28 0 R
There must be memories of many nights of love, each one unlike the others, of the screams of women in labour, and of women in childbed, light and blanched and sleeping, shutting themselves in. But one must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. You have to be able to think back to paths in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings that you had long seen coming—to the days of your childhood that are not yet demystified, to your parents, whom you couldn’t help offending when they did something to make you happy and you didn’t appreciate it (for it was something better suited to make someone else happy—), to childhood illnesses, which start out so strangely with so many deep and serious changes, to days in quiet, subdued rooms, and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to different seas, to nights travelling that swept past on high and flew with all the stars—and it is still not enough, even if you’re allowed to think of all of that.
For the memories themselves are not important.
/DeSaDYNO~1428063306 22 0 R | ISBN 9780679732457
1 0 obj /Parent 1 0 R To write a single line of verse one must see many cities, people, things, one must know animals, one must feel birds flying and know the movements flowers make as they open up in the morning. For it is not the memories themselves. /Panose <0000020b0603030804020204>
/Contents [33 0 R 34 0 R 35 0 R 36 0 R 37 0 R] share. << One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. Only when they become blood in us, glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves, only then can it happen that in a very rare hour the first word of a line arises in their midst and strides out of them.
One must be able to forget them, if they are many, and have the great patience to wait for them to come again.
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