Sonnet | In my closet hangs still your coat on a hanger

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by Victor Schapìel

Translation © by Gary Bachlund (b. 1947)

In meinem Schrank hängt dein Mantel noch...

Language: German (Deutsch)

Our translations: ENG

In meinem Schrank hängt dein Mantel noch am Hacken
Und endlos wartet er, voll Hoffnung, ohne Harm
Zu treffen dich; er wird es nicht, dich halten warm
Mit Sanftheit zu umfassen deinen Nacken.

Zum Glück weist er mich der Mantel auf die Zeit
Als er mit deinem Hüften haschen spielte...
Doch mir wie einem Seher knarrt die Stimme:
Kommt dem zum Trotz noch Winters Eisigkeit.

Warum Vergang'nes rühren, und Fehler, die versunken?
Bizarr und schlaflos kam der Mantel ins Sonett
Und wirbelt Schnee auf Wien, im Kreise, toll betrunken.

Erinnerungen ich jage fort, die brauche ich nicht, zu spät!
Genügt's mir nicht zu streuen Salz noch in die Wunden;
Dann zeichne ich, deshalb, und wieder dein Porträt.

About the headline (FAQ)

Text Authorship:

by Victor Schapìel , "Sonett" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

by Gary Bachlund (b. 1947), "In meinem Schrank", 2006 [bass or bass-baritone and piano] [ sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

ENG English (Gary Bachlund) , "Sonnet", copyright © 2006, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2007-05-12
Line count: 14
Word count: 117

Sonnet

Language: English after the German (Deutsch)

In my closet hangs still your coat on a hanger
and endlessly full of hope and without grief
it awaits to meet you; it will not hold you warm
and with softness gather around your neck.
 
Thankfully it reminds me that once that coat
had played about your waist...
Yet like a seer creaks a voice:
Now comes disobediently winter's icy cold.
 
Why stir up the past, and imperfections now buried?
Grotesque and sleepless came the coat into a sonnet
and snow whirls circling about Vienna, drunkenly.
 
I pursue memories which I do not need, too late!
It is already enough to strew salt on my wounds;
For that I work at it and then comes your image.

Text Authorship:

by Gary Bachlund (b. 1947), "Sonnet", copyright © 2006, (re)printed on this website with kind permission [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Based on:

a text in German (Deutsch) by Victor Schapìel , "Sonett"
- Go to the text page.

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-03-13
Line count: 14
Word count: 118