Rain

Cruickshank, The Umbrella, 1820
Cruickshank, The Umbrella, 1820

Wir saßen so traulich beisammen
Im kühlen Erlendach,
Wir schauten so traulich zusammen
Hinab in den rieselnden Bach.

Der Mond war auch gekommen,
Die Sternlein hinterdrein,
Und schauten so traulich zusammen
In den silbernen Spiegel hinein.

Ich sah nach keinem Monde,
Nach keinem Sternenschein,
Ich schaute nach ihrem Bilde,
Nach ihrem Auge allein.

Und sahe sie nicken und blicken
Herauf aus dem seligen Bach,
Die Blümlein am Ufer, die blauen,
Sie nickten und blickten ihr nach.

Und in den Bach versunken
Der ganze Himmel schien
Und wollte mich mit hinunter
In seine Tiefe ziehn.

Und über den Wolken und Sternen
Da rieselte munter der Bach
Und rief mit Singen und Klingen:
Geselle, Geselle, mir nach.

Da gingen die Augen mir über,
Da ward es im Spiegel so kraus,
Sie sprach: es kommt ein Regen,
Ade, ich geh nach Haus.

We were sitting so intimately next to each other
Under the cool canopy of the alder trees,
We were looking so intimately together
Down into the rippling stream.

The moon had also joined us,
With the little stars coming along behind,
And we were looking so intimately together
Down into the silver mirror.

I was not looking at any moon,
Or at any starlight,
I was looking at her image,
Just at her eye.

And I saw her bobbing and peeping
Up out of the blessed stream,
The little flowers on the river bank, the blue ones,
They bobbed and peered back at her.

And sunk in the stream
The whole sky appeared,
And it wanted me to follow it down
Pulling me into its depths.

And above the clouds and the stars
The stream rippled cheerfully on,
And it called with singing and ringing:
Mate, mate, follow me!

Then my eyes glazed over,
Then the mirror became hazy;
She said: It's going to rain,
Bye, I'm off home.

Müller, Tränenregen		D 795/10

The beautiful miller’s daughter is more perceptive than Müller’s fixated narrator. “It’s going to rain,” she says, even though it is a cloudless night, with the moon and stars clearly reflected in the stream. She knows that she needs to take shelter from a different kind of downpour or outburst. The young man’s eyes glaze over and his vision blurs as his tears well up. She realises that the langour is penetrating his heart, as Verlaine put it.

Il pleure dans mon cœur
Comme il pleut sur la ville;
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon cœur?

Tears are pouring into my heart
Just as rain is pouring over the town;
What is this langour
That is penetrating my heart?

Although German poets did not have access to the same pun (Il pleure / il pleut), they made the same association between rain and tears. Very often, the weeping and the rain is refreshing.

Auf den Blumen flimmern Perlen, 
Philomelens Klagen fließen,
Mutiger nun dunkle Erlen 
In die reinen Lüfte sprießen.  

Und dem Tale, so erblichen, 
Kehret holde Röte wieder, 
Und in der Blüten Wohlgerüche 
Baden Vögel ihr Gefieder.  

Hat die Brust sich ausgewittert, 
Seitwärts lehnt der Gott den Bogen,
Und sein golden Antlitz zittert 
Reiner auf versöhnten Wogen.

Pearls are shimmering on the flowers,
Philomel's laments are pouring out;
Dark alder trees are now more courageous
As they shoot up into the pure air.

And into the valley, which had become so pale,
The beautiful red colouring returns,
And in the lovely fragrance of the blossom
Birds are bathing their feathers.

Having got the storm off his chest
The god lays his bow aside - 
And his golden face trembles
More purely over the placated waves.

Mayrhofer, Nach einem Gewitter	D 561

Wenn die feuchten
Augen leuchten
Von der Wehmut lindem Tau,
Dann entsiegelt,
Drin gespiegelt,
Sich dem Blick die Himmelsau.
Wie erquicklich
Augenblicklich
Löscht es jede wilde Glut;
Wie vom Regen
Blumen pflegen,
Hebet sich der matte Mut.

When the damp
Eyes light up
With the soothing dew of melancholy,
Then unsealed 
And mirrored within
Comes a vision of the heavenly pastures.
How pleasantly,
How immediately,
Is every savage glow put out!
Just as the rain
Takes care of flowers,
The weary spirit rises up.

August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Lob der Tränen	D 711

Sometimes the rain is more than a passing summer shower, though. In ‘Suleika II‘ the speaker addresses the prevailing westerly winds that carry moisture from the Atlantic Ocean bringing persistent rainfall to central Europe; these currents also carry her own tears and unfulfilled longing.

Ach, um deine feuchten Schwingen,
West, wie sehr ich dich beneide,
Denn du kannst ihm Kunde bringen,
Was ich in der Trennung leide.

Die Bewegung deiner Flügel
Weckt im Busen stilles Sehnen,
Blumen, Auen, Wald und Hügel
Stehn bei deinem Hauch in Tränen.

Doch dein mildes sanftes Wehen
Kühlt die wunden Augenlider,
Ach für Leid müsst ich vergehen,
Hofft ich nicht zu sehn ihn wieder.

Oh, those wings of yours that are heavy with moisture
Are what I very much envy you, West wind:
Since you can carry him news about
What I am suffering because of this separation!

The movement of your wings
Awakens a quiet longing in my breast;
Flowers, meadows, woods and hills
Burst into tears when you breathe.

However, your gentle, smooth stirring
Cools wounded eyelids;
Oh, I would have to die of pain
If I could not hope to see him again.

Marianne von Willemer, Suleika II	D 717

At times rain can be torrential, and merciless storms can serve as images of even more intense emotional states (as, most famously, in King Lear).  Some of the texts in Schulze’s Poetisches Tagebuch express an intensely-felt despair that borders on the suicidal:

Ich bin von aller Ruh geschieden
Ich treib umher auf wilder Flut;
An einem Ort nur find' ich Frieden,
Das ist der Ort, wo alles ruht.
Und wenn die Wind' auch schaurig sausen,
Und kalt der Regen niederfällt,
Doch will ich dort viel lieber hausen,
Als in der unbeständ'gen Welt.

I have been cut off from all rest,
I am being tossed about on a savage flood;
There is only one spot where I can find peace,
That is the spot where everything is at rest.
And even if the wind roars dreadfully
And cold rain is pouring down,
I would much rather settle there
Than in this inconstant world.

Schulze, Im Jänner 1817 (Tiefes Leid)	D 876

Of course, very often, as the old journalistic cliche has it, rain does not dampen the spirit.

Rain dampens my will to live

I can hardly believe that 'rain failed to dampen the spirits' still gets air time. But I heard it recently on a TV news report about an outdoor festival that occurred on a rainy day. It was one I always warned my journalists against as soon as the clouds darkened. Just as my editors had warned me 20 years beforehand. Yet we have this insipid cliche still prevalent in the journalistic world. 

I have a 1960s journalism text book that condemns it - and yet, 50 years later the advice still goes unheeded.
It is the laziest of reporting to lean on such a cliche to prop up a story. The angle is valid - that enthusiasm remained despite adversity - but find a better way to say it. There are dozens.

Dean Gould, 2017

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/four-phrases-kill-modern-writing-dean-gould

Schulze in other moods is defiant and sees (cliche again) light at the end of the tunnel:

Frisch trabe sonder Ruh und Rast,
Mein gutes Ross, durch Nacht und Regen!
Was scheust du dich vor Busch und Ast
Und strauchelst auf den wilden Wegen.
Dehnt auch der Wald sich tief und dicht,
Doch muss er endlich sich erschließen,
Und freundlich wird ein fernes Licht
Uns aus dem dunkeln Tale grüßen.

Trot along merrily without stopping or resting
My good horse, through the night and rain!
What is making you afraid of bushes and branches
And why do you stumble on the wild pathways?
Although the wood stretches on deep and thick,
It will have to come to an end at some point,
And a distant light will make a friendly appearance
And greet us from out of the dark valley.

Schulze, 	Auf der Bruck		D 853

Then there is the usually melancholic Mayrhofer, who managed to treat a rainy day as an opportunity to express exuberant hope!

Im Winde, im Sturme befahr ich den Fluss, 
Die Kleider durchweichet der Regen im Guss. 
Ich peitsche die Wellen mit mächtigem Schlag 
Erhoffend, erhoffend mir heiteren Tag.  

Die Wellen, sie jagen das ächzende Schiff, 
Es drohet der Strudel, es drohet der Riff, 
Gesteine entkollern den felsigen Höhn, 
Und Tannen erseufzen wie Geistergestöhn.  

So musste es kommen, ich hab es gewollt, 
Ich hasse ein Leben behaglich entrollt,
Und schlängen die Wellen den ächzenden Kahn, 
Ich priese doch immer die eigene Bahn.  

Drum tose des Wassers ohnmächtiger Zorn, 
Dem Herzen entquillet ein seliger Born, 
Die Nerven erfrischend, o himmliche Lust! 
Dem Sturme zu trotzen mit männlicher Brust.


In the wind and in storms I travel on the river,
My clothes get soaked through as the rain pours down;
I beat the waves with powerful strokes
Hoping, hoping that I will experience a calmer day.

The waves drive the creaking ship,
The whirlpool threatens, the reef threatens,
Rocks tumble down from the towering cliffs
And fir trees sigh with a ghostly moan.

It had to come to this - it is what I wanted;
I hate a life that unfurls too comfortably;
And if the waves were to swallow this creaking boat
I would still always sing the praises of my own course.

Therefore let the water's powerless rage continue to roar,
Happiness is welling up and pouring from my heart,
Refreshing the nerves - oh heavenly delight!
Defying the storm with a human breast.

Mayrhofer, Der Schiffer	D 536

☙

Descendant of: 

WATER   Inanimate nature  


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