Danse Macabre 13: portrait du macabre quatre

Toten-Tanz - ein Deutschespoesie

Sie brauchen kein Tanz-Orchester;
sie hören in sich ein Geheule
als wären sie Eulennester.
Ihr Ängsten näßt wie eine Beule,
und der Vorgeruch ihrer Fäule
ist noch ihr bester Geruch.

Sie fassen den Tänzer fester,
den rippenbetreßten Tänzer,
den Galan, den ächten Ergänzer
zu einem ganzen Paar.
Und er lockert der Ordensschwester
über dem Haar das Tuch;
sie tanzen ja unter Gleichen.
Und er zieht der wachslichtbleichen
leise die Lesezeichen
aus ihrem Stunden-Buch.

Bald wird ihnen allen zu heiß,
sie sind zu reich gekleidet;
beißender Schweiß verleidet
ihnen Stirne und Steiß
und Schauben und Hauben und Steine;
sie wünschen, sie wären nackt
wie ein Kind, ein Verrückter und Eine:
die tanzen noch immer im Takt

Rainer Maria Rilke

danse le morte

Lo! I am Death! With aim as sure as steady,

All beings that are and shall be I draw near me.

I call thee,-I require thee, man, be ready!

Why build upon this fragile life?–Now hear me!

Where is the power that does not own me, fear me?

Who can escape me, when I bend my bow?

I pull the string,-thou liest in dust below,

Smitten by the barb my ministering angels bear me.

Come to the dance of Death! Come hither, even

The last, the lowliest,-of all rank and station!

Who will not come shall be by scourges driven:

I hold no parley with disinclination.

List to yon friar who preaches of salvation,

And hie ye to your penitential post!

For who delays,-who lingers,-he is lost,

And handed o’er to hopeless reprobation.

I to my dance–my mortal dance-have brought

Two nymphs, all bright in beauty and in bloom.

They listened, fear-struck, to my songs, methought;

And, truly, songs like mine are tinged with gloom.

But neither roseate hues nor flowers’ perfume

Will now avail them, -nor the thousands charms

Of worldly vanity;-they fill my arms,-

They are my brides,-their bridal bed the tomb.

And since ‘tis certain, then, that we must die,-

No hope, no chance, no prospect of redress,-

Be it our constant aim unswervingly

To tread God’s narrow path of holiness:

For he is first, last midst. O, let us press

Onwards! And when Death’s monitory glance

Shall summon us to join his mortal dance,

Even then shall hope and joy our footsteps bless.

Anonymous

DANSE MACABRE is edited, produced, and published online by Adam Henry Carriere - Copyright (c.) 2007. All rights reserved. Attributed works copyrighted by individual authors or in the public domain. Contributors retain all publication and serial rights. Viewpoints expressed by contributors, in quotations used, or suggested by displayed graphics may not necessarily reflect the opinions of this online journal. Images appearing in this journal are either in the public domain or the copyright of individuals who produced the image in question. It is believed that the non-profit use of scaled-down, low-resolution images taken from references throughout the world wide web which provide critical visual analysis to writings posted on this site qualifies as fair use under United States copyright law. Any other uses of these images may be copyright infringement. Thus Spake Advocaten...

Danse Macabre 13

portrait du macabre quatre

Menu de la lune

Archive du Danse Macabre

Toten-Tanz - ein Deutschespoesie

Todtentanz

danse le morte

Danse Macabre...