#Stagnelius - Erik Johan

[lets-talk-story]

The Nacken

The evening is festooned with golden clouds the fairies dance in the meadow and the leaf-crowned Nacken plays his fiddle in the silvery brook.

Little boy in the brush on the bank resting in the violet vapor hears the noise from the chilly water calls out in the still night.

"Poor old fellow, why do you play? will it take the pain away? you bring the woods and the fields to life but you'll never be a child of God.

Paradise's moonlit nights eden's flower-crowned plains angels of the light on high— never to be beheld by your eye."

Tears stream down the old man's face down he dives into the rapids the fiddle silences. And the Nacken will never play again in the silvery brook.

- Erik Johan Stagnelius

[ferretteeth]

a very rough attempt of translating one of my favorite Swedish poems, Till förruttnelsen (i suppose the title would be Ode to decay?) by Erik Johan Stagnelius, 1818.

It’s written from the POV of the author eroticizing his own death wish and talking about quite literally marrying death. Grim and gothic with gorgeous imagery – the translations I found all seemed to be straight from Google Translate and very literal, and I tried to amend that somewhat

[a-gnosis]

08: Wedding Night with Death

FOR DECAY

Decay, hurry, beloved bride to make our lonesome bed! Rejected by World, rejected by God, but you I entrust my hopes. Hurry, adorn our chamber -- on the black-clad bier the sighing lover your dwelling shall reach. Hurry, make our bridal sweet -- with carnation spring will her sow.

Shut tender in your womb my languish body, choke with your touch my pain! In worms thoughts and feeling dissolve, in ashes my burning heart. Rich are you, O Girl! -- As dowry you give the vast, the greening Earth for me. I anguish up here, but happy will be with you below.

Erik Johan Stagnelius (1793-1823)

Translated to English by Edmund Gosse in 1886 (I think) and slightly improved by me, because it was honestly a not so very good translation. The Swedish original rhymes, which makes it quite difficult to make a decent translation.

[forsoothsayer]

Luna by Erik Johan Stagnelius

Deep slumber hung o'er sea and hill and plain; With pale pink cheek fresh from her watery caves Slow rose the moon out of the midnight waves, Like Venus out of ocean born again. Olympian blazed she on the dark blue main; 'So shall, ye gods,' — hark how my weak hope raves! — 'My happy star ascend the sea that laves Its shores with grief, and silence all my pain!' With that there sighed a wandering midnight breeze High up among the topmost tufted trees, And o'er the moon's face blew a veil of cloud; And in the breeze my genius spake, and said, 'While thy heart stirred, thy glimmering hope has fled, And like the moon lies muffled in a shroud.'

[youzicha]

To Putrefaction

Make haste, Putrefaction, my darling, my bride     prepare for our sweet assignation! Society spurned me and God passed me by     now you are my sole consolation. Come, furnish our chambers — your pale, gasping lover is carried to you on a velvet-draped bier. Come, ready the bridal bed — Spring brings pink flowers     and scatters them near.

My body will lie in your lap stiff and taut;     embrace me and smother my sorrow! Dissolve into maggots my feelings and thought,     let burn into ashes my ardor. You’re wealthy, my maiden! for dowry you’re bringing vast acres of verdant and flowering lands. There’s nothing for me above ground except suffering     but with you it ends.

Two lines of groomsmen in black walk along                   to our sickly-sweet odorous bedroom. A cast-iron bell plays our wedding song     as we lie down behind the green curtain. While oceans are lashed by the stormiest weather, while battlefields muddle with blood and with grease, in spite of the horrors we’ll slumber together     in gold-tinted peace.

(by Erik Johan Stagnelius, published 1823.)

[balloons-and-shadows]

December Advent Calendar

December 15 - Näcken

The näck (“neck” in English) is a water spirit, who can be found in German mythology and folklore under many different names. On the Wikipedia page you can find about 20 of those names.

Though names and sex vary geographically, the Näck in Scandinavian folklore were usually males. They lived in almost any kind of water source. River, sea, pond, you name it. The story goes that they would fall into despair if they went too long without contact with water.

According to the stories, näcken would be play enchanting songs to lure women and children into the water and drown them. Especially pregnant women and unbaptized children were said to be the most vulnerable to the music of the näcken. However, there have also been some stories about men not being able to resist the sweet songs of the näcken.

The näcken would also be more active on certain special days. If it was the day of Midsummer’s Night, Christmas Eve or just your regular Thursday, you had to be extra cautious to not fall into the trap of the näcken.

 Näcken – a poem by Erik Johan Stagnelius

Kvällen gullmoln fästet kransa.

Älvorna på ängen dansa,

Och den bladbekrönta näcken

Gigan rör i silverbäcken.

 Liten pilt bland stranden pilar

I violens ånga vilar,

Klangen hör från källans vatten,

Ropar i den stilla natten:

 "Arma gubbe! Varför spela?

Kan det smärtorna fördela?

Fritt du skog och mark må liva,

Skall Guds barn dock aldrig bliva!

 Paradisets månskensnätter,

Edens blomsterkrönta slätter,

Ljusets ängar i det höga -

Aldrig skådar dem ditt öga."

 Tårarna gubbens anlet skölja,

Ned han dyker i sin bölja.

Gigan tystnar. Aldrig näcken

Spelar mer i silverbäcken.

[unfilodaria]

Senti? Sussurra il vento nel bosco

fra le cime alte dei pioppi

e ti chiama strunzo.

(Erik Johan Stagnelius)

[weiila]

Till Förruttnelsen

Förruttnelse, hasta, o älskade brud,    att bädda vårt ensliga läger! Förskjuten av världen, förskjuten av Gud,    blott dig till förhoppning jag äger. Fort, smycka vår kammar -- på svartklädda båren den suckande älskarn din boning skall nå. Fort, tillred vår brudsäng -- med nejlikor våren    skall henne beså.

Slut ömt i ditt sköte min smäktande kropp,    förkväv i ditt famntag min smärta! I maskar lös tanken och känslorna opp,    i aska mitt brinnande hjärta. Rik är du, o flicka! -- i hemgift du giver den stora, den grönskande jorden åt mig. Jag plågas häruppe, men lycklig jag bliver    därnere hos dig.

Till vällustens ljuva, förtrollande kvalm    oss svartklädda brudsvenner följa. Vår bröllopssång ringes av klockornas malm,    och gröna gardiner oss dölja. När stormarna ute på världshavet råda, när fasor den blodade jorden bebo, när fejderna rasa, vi slumra dock båda    i gyllene ro.

-Erik Johan Stagnelius

(Dedicated) To Decay (straight translation, not trying to stick to the stanzas or anything)

Decay, hurry, my beloved bride, to make our lonely bed! Pushed away from the world, pushed away from God, to you I own my last hope. Hurry, decorate our chamber - upon a stretcher swathed in black clothes will your sighing lover be brought to your home. Hurry, prepare our wedding bed - upon it in springtime carnations will grow.

Pull to your bossom my longing body, smother my pain in your embrace! In worms let the thought and emotions dissolve, and in ashes my burning heart. You’re rich, my girl! As a wedding gift you give me the grand, green earth. I suffer up here, but I’ll be happy down there with you.

To the sweet, enchanting pleasures we’re followed by bridegrooms in black. Our wedding song is rung by the iron of the bells and green curtains will hide us. When storms rule the oceans, when horrors make their home on the bloodied earth, when fights are raging, the two of us sleep in golden peace.

[mittbokligaliv-blog]

Endymion

Skön, med lågande hy och slutna ögon, Slumrar herden så ljuft i Månans strålar. Nattens ångande vindar Fläkta hans lockiga hår. Stum, med smäktande blick och våta kinde Honom Delia ser från eterns höjder; Nu ur strålande charen Sväfvar hon darrande ned. Och af klarare ljus, vid hennes ankomst, Stråla dalar och berg och myrtenskogar. Utan förerska spannet Trafvar i silfrade moln. Herden sofver i…

[patrikenander]

HELT LYRISKT - PUBLIC SERVICE NÄR DET ÄR SOM BÄST

HELT LYRISKT – PUBLIC SERVICE NÄR DET ÄR SOM BÄST

Efter att ha sett två avsnitt där Fredrik Lindström låter två artister skapa musik till var sin dikt är jag helt enkelt lyrisk! Som den lysande folkbildare Lindström är lär vi oss på ett lättsamt sätt mycket både om dikten och författaren bakom. Här nämns namn som man man väl aldrig hör i prime-time tv som Sten Selander, Erik Lindegren och Erik Johan Stagnelius. Hur ofta ser du Jonas Ellerström,e…

[tbwdtw]

another demo that we never released, based of the poetry of Swedish writer Erik Johan Stagnelius and his piece "Till Förruttnelsen".

[a-gnosis]

twice I dreamt of your Athena, I sat on the shores of a white sandy beach, and there she was, hair short and chopped, dressed in armour. And I was in awe, I told her she was beautiful, she smiled and then I woke up. The the next time I dreamt of her, her hair was long and she was sewing, and again, I tell her she is beautiful, my feet sore and bloody from walking up the mountain to her abode, and again her smile forces me awake, she is beautiful

I wish I had dreams like that. I almost never dream about my characters. I had this dream about Hermes several years ago that I actually turned into a comic:

“Only in dreams does Olympus to mortals descend” is a line from the poem "Endymion" by the Swedish Romantic poet Erik Johan Stagnelius (1793-1823).

[forsoothsayer]

Nacken - Water Demon by Erik Johan Stagnelius

The evening is festooned with golden clouds the fairies dance in the meadow and the leaf-crowned Nacken plays his fiddle in the silvery brook. Little boy in the brush on the bank resting in the violet vapor hears the noise from the chilly water calls out in the still night. "Poor old fellow, why do you play? will it take the pain away? you bring the woods and the fields to life but you'll never be a child of God. Paradise's moonlit nights eden's flower-crowned plains angels of the light on high-- never to be beheld by your eye." Tears stream down the old man's face down he dives into the rapids the fiddle silences. And the Nacken will never play again in the silvery brook.

[forsoothsayer]

Eternity by Erik Johan Stagnelius

Up through the ruins of my earthly dreams I catch the stars of immortality; What store of joy can lurk in heaven for me? What other hope feed those celestial gleams? Can there be other grapes whose nectar streams For me, whom earth's vine fails? Oh! can it be That this most hopeless heart again may see A forehead garlanded, an eye that beams? Alas! 'tis childhood's dream that vanisheth! The heaven-born soul that feigns it can return And end in peace this hopeless strife with fate! There is no backward step; 'tis only death Can still these cores of wasting fire that burn, Can break the chain, the captive liberate.

[mittbokligaliv-blog]

Vän! I förödelsens stund

Vän! I förödelsens stund, när ditt inre av mörker betäckes,  När i ett avgrundsdjup minne och aning förgå,  Tanken famlar försagd bland skuggestalter och irrbloss,  Hjärtat ej sucka kan, ögat ej gråta förmår;  När från din nattomtöcknade själ eldvingarne falla,  Och du till intet, med skräck, känner dig sjunka på nytt,  Säg, vem räddar dig då?- Vem är den vänliga ängel,  Som åt ditt inre ger…

[mittbokligaliv-blog]

Näcken

Quällens gullmoln fästet kransa. Älfvorna på ängen dansa, och den bladbekrönta Necken gigan rör i silfverbäcken.     Liten pilt bland strandens pilar i violens ånga hvilar, Klangen hör från källans vatten, Ropar i den stilla natten:   “Arma Gubbe! Varför spela? Kan det smärtorna fördela? Fritt du skog och mark må lifva Skall Guds barn dock aldrig blifva!   Paradisets månskensnätter, Edens…