Thursday 13 February 2014

Floods and Der Fluß

On Tuesday I drove along a narrow strip of road elevated above the flood plain. It was surreal - miles of brown water on each side, as if I were sailing through a strangely waveless ocean. Unnatural quiet - where were the trees, cars and people?  Even the birds were silent. Yesterday, in the stormy winds I did not risk the trip again.  Today the floodwaters keep rising to unprecedented levels. Luckily for me, I'm safe : many aren't and will be suffering the consequences for months to come.  That's the irony of living in an area of outstanding natural beauty. Nature asserts itself to remind us that material things mean little in the wider scheme of things. Mess with the river and the river gets its own back. The floodwaters may be smelly and full of debris, and when they recede, the land will be wrecked. Yet eventually, the Thames will return to what it always was.

So I've picked a gentle song about rivers, Der Fluß, Schubert D693 to a poem by Friedrich von Schlegel.  For a translation go to Emily Ezust's Lieder and Song Texts page.

Wie rein Gesang sich windet
Durch wunderbarer Saitenspiele Rauschen,
 Er selbst sich wiederfindet,
Wie auch die Weisen tauschen,
Daß neu entzückt die Hörer ewig lauschen
 So fließet mir gediegen
Die Silbermasse, schlangengleich gewunden,
Durch Büsche, die sich wiegen
Vom Zauber süß gebunden,
Weil sie im Spiegel neu sich selbst gefunden;
Wo Hügel sich so gerne
Und helle Wolken leise schwankend zeigen,
Wenn fern schon matte Sterne
 Aus blauer Tiefe steigen,
 Der Sonne trunkne Augen abwärts neigen.
So schimmern alle Wesen
Den Umriß nach im kindlichen Gemüte,
Das zur Schönheit erlesen
Durch milder Götter Güte
 In dem Kristall bewahrt die flücht'ge Blüte.
 

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