Dear Cyndy,

Thank you for your letter. I hope your wounds
heal promptly. You must be very careful about
avoiding falls. In persons of our age, broken
hips are a major cause of protracted misery.

In response to your request, I includes below
a translation of Hoelderlin's poem "Abendphantasie". 
As I've written before, I don't think (my) translations
can possibly do justice to the original, and I prepare
them on the perhaps unrealistic premise that they make
the original accessible to you. In any event, even though
you asked for it, I apologize.

Other, less momentous translations from that voluminous
correspondence: "Landgraf werde hart" - Landgrave get tough,
is a demand for law and order from a medieval smith, near
whose smithy a much too tender-hearted Count had lost his
way and spent the night. The angry smith, unaware of the
proximity of the VIP visitor, as he pounded upon a sword
on the anvil, pretended the sword was the count, and cursed:
Landgrave get tough! The count overheard his exasperated
subject's exhortations and got the message, cleaned up the
county of corruption, and everybody lived happily ever after.
What this story might have meant to my father puzzles me.
To postulate competition between tender- and toughmindedness 
in the adolescent spirit, is obvious and easy, - but doesn't
mean much.

My father's cousin's George's objection to rural life, related
in much garbled German by my cousin Marion, is that there in
the backwoods to which my father was retiring, when a cow turns
around three times before lying down, they think it's news and
put it in the paper. I suppose that's the kind of wit George
exchanged when playing cards with his buddies while vacationing
on the Jersey shore. My father disliked playing cards, and
prohibited them in his house. He didn't think much of other
parlor games, like Monopoly, either. Too unintellectual.

My mother, about whom you ask, had an almost miraculous empathy,
at least for me. In Germany, I felt she was the only person who
"understood" me. I was inseparably attached to her. Emigration,
her summer in New York City and my summer in Canaan, followed
by banishment to the Virginia mountains, changed everything.
The ordeal broke my mother's spirit, and initiated for me the
difficult task of my "understanding" her, - a continuing process,
even now.

Im sorry, I haven't seen "Rashomon".
I've seen three movies in seventy-nine years. As a child, 
before going to Philadelphia, in the early forties,
"How green was my valley", and a movie about a parson's family, 
the name of which I can almost remember, but not quite.
I think the leading actor was someone called Hartzell Spence.
Then in the late 1960's at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge,
a film of Thomas Mann's Felix Krull - in German.
 

Abendphantasie

Vor seiner Hütte ruhig im Schatten sitzt
Der Pflüger, dem Genügsamen raucht sein Herd.
Gastfreundlich tönt dem Wanderer im
Friedlichen Dorfe die Abendglocke.

Wohl kehren itzt die Schiffer zum Hafen auch,
In fernen Städten, fröhlich verrauscht des Markts
Geschäft'ger Lärm; in stiller Laube
Glänzt das gesellige Mahl den Freunden.

Wohin denn ich? Es leben die Sterblichen
Von Lohn und Arbeit; wechselnd in Müh' und Ruh'
Ist alles freudig; warum schläft denn
Nimmer nur mir in der Brust der Stachel?

Am Abendhimmel blühet ein Frühling auf;
Unzählig blühn die Rosen und ruhig scheint
Die goldne Welt; o dorthin nimmt mich
Purpurne Wolken! und möge droben

In Licht und Luft zerrinnen mir Lieb' und Leid! 
Doch, wie verscheucht von töriger Bitte, flieht
Der Zauber; dunkel wirds und einsam
Unter dem Himmel, wie immer, bin ich 

Komm du nun, sanfter Schlummer! zu viel begehrt
Das Herz; doch endlich, Jugend! verglühst du ja,
Du ruhelose, träumerische!
Friedlich und heiter ist dann das Alter.
                     Hoelderlin

==============================================

Abendphantasie
Evening Thoughts

Vor seiner Hütte ruhig im Schatten sitzt
In front of his hut in tranquil shade sits

Der Pflüger, dem Genügsamen raucht sein Herd.
The ploughman, satisfied with with his glowing hearth.

Gastfreundlich tönt dem Wanderer im
In the peaceful village the evening bell

Friedlichen Dorfe die Abendglocke.
Invites the Wanderer to take his rest.

Wohl kehren itzt die Schiffer zum Hafen auch,
This is the hour when boatmen return to the harbor,

In fernen Städten, fröhlich verrauscht des Markts
In distant cities, the pleasant noise 

Geschäft'ger Lärm; in stiller Laube
Of the busy market fades; in the silent pavillion

Glänzt das gesellige Mahl den Freunden.
Friends take their seats at the convivial feast.

Wohin denn ich? Es leben die Sterblichen
Whither shall I? The lives of mortals consist

Von Lohn und Arbeit; wechselnd in Müh' und Ruh'
Of wages and work; exchanging travail and peace

Ist alles freudig; warum schläft denn
In joyful repose; why in my breast alone,

Nimmer nur mir in der Brust der Stachel?
Will anguish never lapse into peaceful sleep?

Am Abendhimmel blühet ein Frühling auf;
The evening sky is ablaze with spring;

Unzählig blühn die Rosen und ruhig scheint
Uncounted the roses that bloom and at peace

Die goldne Welt; o dorthin nimmt mich
rests a world of gold; Oh carry me

Purpurne Wolken! und möge droben
purple clouds to that place! that in the heights

In Licht und Luft zerrinnen mir Lieb' und Leid! 
in breezes of light love and pain might subside!

Doch, wie verscheucht von töriger Bitte, flieht
Yet, as if dispersed by my foolish prayer,

Der Zauber; dunkel wirds und einsam
The magic fades; darkness descends and lonely

Unter dem Himmel, wie immer, bin ich 
Beneath the sky, as always, I wait.

Komm du nun, sanfter Schlummer! zu viel begehrt
Come now to me, gentle sleep! My heart demands

Das Herz; doch endlich, Jugend! verglühst du ja,
Too much: at last, days of my youth, you fade,

Du ruhelose, träumerische!
Dreamy and restless!

Friedlich und heiter ist dann das Alter.
Old age is replete with peace and joy.

Hoelderlin

==============================================

Evening Thoughts

In front of his hut in tranquil shade sits
The ploughman, pleased with the smoke of his hearth.
The evening bell invites the wanderer 
To take his rest in the peaceful village.

This is the hour when boatmen return to the harbor,
In distant cities, the pleasant noise 
Of the busy market fades; and in the silent pavillion
Friends take their seats at the convivial feast.

Whither shall I? The lives of mortals consist
Of wages and work; exchanging travail and rest
They live in joy. Why in my breast alone,
Will anguish never lapse into tranquil sleep?

The evening sky is ablaze with spring;
Countless roses in bloom, and a golden
World reposes in peace; Oh carry me purple
Clouds to that place! that in the heights

In breezes of light, love and pain disappear!
Yet, as if dispersed by my foolish prayer,
The magic fades; darkness descends and lonely
Beneath the sky, as always, I wait.

Come now to me, gentle sleep! Too great
The demands of my heart: Subside at last,
Dreamy and restless, days of my youth, 
Then old age is filled with joy and with peace.

                          Hoelderlin

Give my best to Ned.

Jochen