Friday, February 19, 2016

Kornel Ujejski's Dramatic Poems about Chopin in English Translation (Vol. 7, No. 3)

Chopin Vintage Postcard. Maja Trochimczyk Collection, 1890s, Poland

Chopin’s music was reflected in verse by generations of poets in Poland and around the world. Our Chopin with Cherries anthology gathers contemporary American poetry about Chopin, juxtaposed with some English-language classics, like poems by Emma Lazarus and T.S. Eliot, as well as the magnificent and visionary "Chopin’s Piano" by Cyprian Kamil Norwid translated by Leonard Kress. Published in 2010, the anthology gathers “the last word” on Chopin in English-language poetry at the 200th anniversary of the composer’s birth.

However, as we have since found, there have been many more poems written in English or translated from Polish that were in circulation in North America. Two of these poems were located in an unlikely source, among documents of an amateur theatrical group active in Schenectady, NY in the 1930s and 1940s, and called the Maska Dramatic Circle. While working on the history of the group, Phyllis Zych Budka found the following press clipping, published on December 26, 1935, in the local Weekly Gazette (Gazeta Tygodniowa). The history book by Ms. Budka is currently in preparation to be published by Moonrise Press this year and will include more information about Chopin-related performances and activities of the notable theatrical ensemble.

Photo by Phyllis Zych Budka. Used by Permission.

The Gazeta Tygodniowa clipping contains two poems by a romantic Polish poet, Kornel Ujejski (1823-1897), based on  the music by Fryderyk Chopin: “Marsz Pogrzebowy” (“Funeral March”), following the formal outline of Chopin’s Funeral March from Sonata Op. 35, and “Wniebowzięcie” (“Assumption”) providing a poetic interpretation of Chopin’s Prelude Op. 28, No. 7.  The original version by Kornel Ujejski is on the left, accompanied on the right by the English translation written by Dr. Bradley Kirschberg (assisted by Wadsworth Olivier in Funeral March and by Jeanne Robert Foster in Assumption).

 The exaggerated dramatics of the Funeral March - depicting the despair and resultant blasphemous mutiny against  the will of God of a husband walking behind the coffin of his young wife - may strike a contemporary reader as quite kitschy. The poem follows the formal outline of the March, with a sweeter and more delicate topic describing the "dearly departed" wife in ethereal terms, reflecting the middle part of Trio, followed by the return of the tragic tone of despair in the closing section, repeating the main themes of music from the opening.

Similarly, the over-sweetened delight in a miniature that is inspired by an equally minuscule Prelude Op. 28, may seem to us, in the 21st century, as being completely exaggerated and false. Regardless of their reception today, these poems are an important testimonial to the history of Chopin reception at the end of the 19th century, where such exaggerated emotions, whether dramatic or ecstatic, were common-place.

The transcriptions of both poems are included below, along with links to several notable interpretations of the compositions by pianists from the era. For best experience, go to YouTube, open the link in a different screen, and come back here to read the poem.  The  Polish original is followed by its English translation. Enjoy!

Chopin's Funeral March from Sonata in B-flat, Op. 35 played by Anton Rubinstein.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ido55uT5U0k

Marsz Pogrzebowy 

By Kornel Ujejski

Tyle dzwonów! Gdzie te dzwony? Czy w mej głowie huczą?
Kędy idą roje księży z taką pieśnią kruczą?
Tu przede mną o dwa kroki czarny wóz się toczy
Jak mi ciemo, ten wóz czarny ściemnił moje oczy.”

Gdzieś w powietrzu krzyż jaśnieje, migają pochodnie,
A prowadzą mnie pod ręce – idą tak wygodnie.
Same prawie się podnoszą zatrętwiałe nogi.
Dobrze, dobrze, że mnie wiodą, nie znam żadnej drogi.

Idę, płynę niby śniący, bez myśli, bez woli.
Tylko w głowie  tylko w sercu coś mnie strasznie boli,
Coś zatapia w nich swe szpony,  krzywe, ostre szpony,
A tu ciągle biją dzwony a tu kraczą wrony….

Ha ! muzykę jakąś słyszę – pięknie grają, pięknie…
Żar mam w oczach, a po twarzy coś zimnego cieknie
Patrzą na mnie, ale zbliżyć nikt się nie odważa,
Musi coś być w mojej twarzy, co ludzi przeraża.

A wóz ciągną cztery konie, okryte żałobą
A mnie ciągnie jakaś siła, wlecze mnie za sobą…
Wielki Boże! toż ta trumna wysuwa się ku mnie!
Tam zagadka mego bytu, w tej trumnie, w tej trumine!

Za co Tyś mnie tak ukarał, Ty, co zwiesz się Bogiem!
Za co, za co – och!
Samowładca nad słońcami, nad stworzeniem mnogiem
Mnie zdeptałeś – proch?!
Gdzie ten Bóg
Co mnie zmógł?
Czy Go jęki dzwonów głoszą i krakanie wron?

Niech pokaże się przede mną z ironji obliczem
On, straszny jak noc
Bom ja większy w moim bólu, chociaż jestem niczem,
Niźli jego Moc
Ha, zły On!
Ha, zły On!
I tem słowem dzwony biją
Jezus, Maryjo!
Jakże mnie ten razi dzwon
Ten dzwon! Ten dzwon!

* * * *
Na atłasie piękna, cicha
Rączki trzyma w krzyż,
Przez sen do mnie się uśmiecha
Oh, ty już nie śnisz!

Oh, nie czujesz ty już woni
Z wieńca białych róż,
Całowaniem twojej skroni
Nie zbudzę cię już.

Nie wiesz nawet, że za tobą
Idę, blady trup,
Że prowadzą cię z żałobą
Że prowadzą w grob!

Na toż ciebie biedna matka
Wydała na świat,
I jam kochał do ostatka,
Bym cię w trumnę kładł!

Takież moje ślubne łoże?
I ja w takim dniu
Żyję jeszcze? Boże! Boże!
Co ja pocznę tu!

Była słodka i anielska
I kochała mnie,
Jak piosenka jaka sielska,
Plynęły nam dnie.

I jam przy niej był bez grzechu
I anielskość miał
Bo z jej oczu z jej usmiechu
Jam sacrament brał.

Była dla mnie jak natchnienie
Genjuszu i cnót,
Wiodło do mnie jej szat jaśnienie
Do niebieskich wrót.

Gdzie zawiodło mnie na końcu,
Po przebyciu prób?
W czarną otchłań szedłem w słońcu!
Przez nadzieję w grób!

Takież moje ślubne łoże
I ja w takim dniu
Żyję jeszcze? Boże! Boże!
Co ja pocznę tu!

* * * *
Wzięli trumnę na ramiona, ponieśli ją śpiesznie
Mnie zatrzymać chcą przemocą – ha! Ha! To pociesznie!
Precz mi z drogi, głupi tłumie, bo będzie nieszczęście,
Młody jestem, wściekły jestem i mam silne pięście!

Ja mam do niej prawo. Precz z drogi ciekawi!
Czarne mrowie! Tylko równy niech mi opór stawi.
Mego bólu żadna z waszych piersi nie pomieści;
I pierzchnęli, a ja idę, wielki król boleści!

Pośród gwaru podziwienia, śród hałasu dzwonu,
Oto zbliźam się do trumny do mojego tronu!
Ty grabarzu, na tym kopcu wsparty na łopacie,
By takiego pogrześć króla, ile chcesz mój bracie?

A zakop mnie a głęboko, tak mi źle na świecie!
Ciężej niźli twoja ziemia, powietrze mnie gniecie…
Precz z kropidłem, śwecona woda ją poplami
Ja tu jeden mam kapłaństwo, pokropię ją łzami!

Z pod habitu zakonnego wysuwa się ręka,
Jakaś jasna, jakaś mocna! Duch mój przed nią klęka.
Dotknęła mnie! A ja padam podcięty jak kosą…
I wzięli mnie I ponieśli – gdzie oni mnie niosą?

Niech za kilka kropli szczęścia ludzie światu płacą
Całym morzem łez!
Głupi świecie, marny świecie stworzonyś ty na co?
W czemu twój byt i kres?
Jego ruch,
To mój duch!
Jam jak serce w nim bijące, oh, próżny jak dzwon!
Czym ja kogo prosił o to? Kto tu bez mej woli
Nakazał mi przyjść?
Chociaż bytem mnie okuto, nie jestem w niewoli!
Ja mam władzę wyjść!

Ha, zły On!
Ha, zły On!

I tem słowem dzwony biją….
Jezus, Maryjo!

Jakże mnie ten razi dzwon!
Ten dzwon! Ten dzwon!

Chopin with the angel of death, vintage postcard, Poland, 1890s. Maja Trochimczyk collection.

And here's another, slightly more modern interpretation of Chopin's Funeral March, faster in this version by Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hgw_RD_1_5I

Funeral March

By Kornel Ujejski, English translation and versification by 
Dr. B.H. Kirchberg and Wadsworht Olivier
(to Chopin’s Funeral March From Sonata – Op. 35)

A thousand bells from hidden lofts clamor in my brain,
As these slowly pacing priests drone a sad refrain
While before me just two paces moves a slow black car,
Deathly shadows cloak my eyes, darkness shrouds my heart.

Crucifix reflects the glint of torches burning bright,
Thus they lead me, thus support my falt’ring footsteps light.
It is well that they keep moving my unconscious tread,
It is well for I, in truth, know not where I am led.

I am walking, floating, moving, without thought or will
Aching head and aching heart, body cold and chill.
Claws so sharp and claws so crooked digging at my sou,
I hear ugly ravens croak as death bells slowly toll.

Music playing, softly gently, music clear and sweet,
Water cold runs down my face, though eyeballs burn with heat.
Strangers eyes keep staring at me, no-one dares draw near,
Is my face a gruesome mask that men will dread and fear?

A hearse by four black horses drawn, in mourning is each horse,
Thus my body too is dragged, by some terrific force.
Oh great God that coffin seems to move and ghostly gait.
And in that dreadful casket likes toe answer to my fate.

* * * *
Why must you punish me this way, Though Almightly Lord,
I have done naught, so why?
You who rule the  Universe with biting, flashing sword,
Have slain me, ever to lie.
Where is He
Who killed me?

Does He speak through mournful bell, or croaking raven  horde?

L:et Him stand before me now with his satanic face,
As black as night,
I am greater through my pain though but a speck in space,
Than his great might.
The Mad One
The Mad One. Through such words the bells do toll,
Oh, Jesus, Oh Mary,
Bells keep pounding in my soul,
Bells, bells Bells, Bells.

* * * *
On the satin, lovely, silent,
Folded hands on breast,
Still you smile at me though sleeping
In your final rest,

Though you cannot breathe the perfume
Of wreath roses white,
As you do not fee l my kisses,
In your endless night.

You know not that here behind you,
I walk pale with dread
As your corpse in gruesome mourning
Ti its grave is led.

Was for this your poor dear mother,
Suffered at your birth,
Did I love you just to give you
Back again to earth?

Is your grave our nuptial chamber,
If I here remain,
God in Heaven, with Thy power,
Help me in my pain.

She was kind and so angelic
Sweet her love and true
Haunting melody our livng,
As time quickly flew.

And beside her I stood sinless
Angel blessings took
And from her eyes, her lips, her smile
Sacraments, partook.

For me she was inspiration
Guide light for my soul
Leading me with goodness, virtue
To immortal goal.

After trials I surmounted,
Is this then my doom,
Blackest chaos in days sunlight
Standing by her tomb?

Is your grave our nuptial chamber
Is I here remain
God in heaven with Thy power
Help me in my pain.

* * * *
They slowly lift her coffin down, they who walked so fast.
In mockery the urge me now to sit and rest at last.
Begone Black Insects, only equals can oppose my wrath.
If I am  young and desperate, my fists are apt to fly.

Only I have right to her, begone who stare and laugh,
Begone Black Insects, only equals can oppose my wrath
My suffering s are far too great for any human breast,
The mob disperse, with only I, the King of Sorrow left.

Through a murmur of surprise and church bells’ mournful chime,
I draw newer her coffin black – my royal thrones sublime.
You grave diggers, leaning calmly on your faithful spades,
Quote your price to end my life, here mid-tombstone shades.

Take your priestly sprinkler here, your prayers and chantings vain
For I the only priest shall be, and but my tears remain.
From monk’s habit a hand appears, full of strength a d light,
Touches e, my spirit calms, my soul again is bright.

And then I fell as though cut down by Death’s mysterious scythe,
Now they lift me through the mirk as I unconscious writhe.
Of for a drip of happiness, bought with human tears
Foolish world, unhappy man, why do you linger here?

What is your goal?
It is my soul.

I did not ask for pulsing beat. I did not ask to be.
And so I burst these bonds of life and thus at last am free.
The Mad One.
The Mad One.
Through such words the bells do toll
Oh Jesus, Oh Mary,
Bells keep pounding in my soul,
Bells, Bells, Bells, Bells.

Photo by Phyllis Zych Budka. Used by permission.

The second poem, much, much shorter, is about Assumption, and is inspired by a smaller work, Prelude Op. 28 No. 7.  Here's the very brief Prelude in an interpretation by Artur Rubinstein.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6vJmHiHBMo

Wniebowzięcie

By Kornel Ujejski
do Preludjum Chopina Op. 28 No. 7

Leżę na obłoku
roztopiony w ciszę
mgłę mam senną w oku
oddechu nie słyszę
fijołkowej woni
opływa mnie morze
dłoń złożywszy w dłoni
lecę, płynę gdzieś…

Ne wiem, gdzie, czem jestem
czym anioł napoły?
Bo z cichym szelestem
migają anioły.
Chyba Bóg określi
Moją słodycz… Boże!
Ach, nie zbudź mej myśli
I serca nie wskrześ!

Fragment of Chopin tapestry by Monique Lehman, 2010.


Before reading the English version, let's hear the same Prelude in A Major, Op. 28, No. 7 beautifully played by Martha Argerich.

Assumption

Translated by B. H. Kirschberg and Jeanne Rober Foster, 
to Prelude 7 op. 25 of Chopin

On a cloud I lie entranced
Drifting silence all around
Sleeping mists have closed my eyelids
Flows my breath without a sound

\Violets’ alluring perfume
Softly, gently cover me
And with hands on my breast folded
I float out in ecstasy.

Is my body still earth-captive
Or a spirit borne on high?
For on wings that eat in silence
Angels all around me fly?

Only God above can tell me
Why this joy that is so sweet;
God, let not y mind awaken
Do not stir my heart to beat!



Friday, February 12, 2016

Chopin Monuments Around the World IV - Asia (Vol. 7, No. 2)

Let us continue the tour of Chopin monuments around the world by visiting Asia. In the previous installments we have visited Poland, Europe, and both Americas:
ASIA


HAMAMATSU, JAPAN

Again, as in Chicago and Warsaw, and a couple other places, we start with the visionary sculpture by Waclaw Szymanowski, that graces the Warsaw Lazienki Park. This time, it has been copied in Japan. 

The city of Hamamatsu houses an exact full-size replica of Waclaw Szymanowski's statue from the Lazienki Park. Apparently, Hamamatsu is the sister city of Warsaw; there are many  piano makers and other companies located in this city, such as  Honda Motor Company, Kawai Pianos, Yamaha, Sony, Suzuki Motor Company and Hamamatsu Photonics. Kawai and Yamaha pianos would have a vested interest in promoting Chopin's music. Copying the monument from Warsaw is such a wonderful tribute to Polish culture!





SHANGHAI, CHINA

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

From the most traditional Art Nuveau image by Szymanowski, we move to one of the most unusual monuments of Chopin, built in Shanghai. It is abstract and looks from the back like a monumental assemblage of a set of piano keys.  The front reveals a face of chopin amods the vertical linear patterns.  This monument was designed by  Lu Pin, a Shanghai-born  sculptor who graduated from Warsaw's Academy of Fine Arts. It is the tallest of all Chopin monuments. 

According to a report in a Shanghai paper from the statue's unveiling, "A seven-meter high bronze-made statue of Chopin, highest of its kind in the world, is set up in the Zhongshan Park of Shanghai, attracting many passers-by. This statue is a gift from Poland in memory of Chopin."

http://en.ce.cn/National/culture/200703/09/t20070309_10634126.shtml


Photo from Baza Wiedzy website

THE REPUBLIC OF SINGAPORE


From the heights of abstraction, we land in the Shanghai Botanical Gardens at a moment of cosy home music making. A natural size, ground-level scene greets visitors to the Singapore Botanic Gardens; it is placed on a pathway near the Symphony Lake. This sculpture was designed by Polish sculptor Karol Badyna.  It is hard to guess who the woman on the right is, listening to Chopin's pinao performance, on a weirdly truncated upright piano with a large music book. Judged by the hair style it could be his sister, Ludwika, or his one-time beloved Konstancja Gladkowska... 

The inscription, on a page at the foot of Chopin's chair, reads: 

"Frederick Chopin (Szopen) 1810–1849 / The Most Eminent of Polish Composers /  This sculpture is a gift of the people of Poland to Singapore, in memory of music's greatest tone poets / Made possible by the generous support of: /  Halina and Miroslaw Pienkowski and the Embassy of the Republic of Poland in Singapore / October 2008."


Chopin Monument in Singapore. From Pinterest

The known portraits of his sister, Ludwika Jedrzejewicz, show her with the hair piled up. The one of his beloved Maria Wodzinska does not show the curls above the ears and has a flat, smooth appearance. Only the singer Konstancja Gladkowska could qualify, with her mass of curls and a top-knot. The similarity to the portrait on the right below is remarkable (portraits from NIFC website in Poland).  In other portraits, however, George Sand, also has curls and a knot on the top of her head, a popular 19th century hair style, so this issue is not resolved yet. 

L: Maria Wodzinska (1819-1896). R: Konstancja Gladkowska (1810-1889) 

Another issue of interest about the Singapore sculpture is the music content carved in the score in front of Chopin. hopefully, some readers who went to the Singapore Botanical Gardens in Singapore will be able to help identify this work.

Is this the third of only three Chopin monuments in Asia? Probably not, but these are all that I found. All prove the unending love of Chopin's music around the world.  

Japan in particular, abounds in popular images of Chopin, in cartoons, films, and video games, such as the following from the game called "Eternal Sonata:"

You do not like it? See what this Chopin can do! Pure magic...


Meanwhile, there are more and more Chopin statues and monuments that can be found...
This one, from the Central Park in Radom, Poland, appears to be a mid-20th century modernist invention (found on Pinterest). 


Is it really much better than the cute, purple cartoon boy with a clock, snapping music notes out of his fingers?