Manual Weil Sterben ein Teil des Lebens ist: Das Hospiz (German Edition)

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But you seem lonely now; in the silence of the night The rocks can hear your wailing, and often your winged waves, Angered by mortal ways, rise madly to the sky. For the noble loved ones no longer live with you, They who honored you, who garlanded your shores With fair temples and cities; and always they search and fail, The godly elements, for always, for their glory. They need the hearts of feeling men, as heroes need their crowns.

Tell me, where is Athens? Has your city, dearest To you, the jewel of sacred shores, sunk wholly in ashes Over the luns of the masters, grieving god?

HOSPIZ - Definition and synonyms of Hospiz in the German dictionary

Or is there still a sign of her so that the sailor, Perhaps, when he passes by, can call and think of her? Was it not there that the columns rose high and the images Of the gods shone down from the roof of the citadel? Was it not there that the storm-dark voice of the people roared From the Agora, and from the happy city gates The streets ran down to a heaven-gifted harbor?

It was there the far- thinking merchant untied his ship. Has for years been smugly counting his store of weapons and slaves. Mocking the Greek land and its scattered little islands. For they seemed a joke to the lord and virtually a mirage— That sensitive people, armed with the intellect of gods! He speaks a word lightly, and fast as a flaming torrent When it pours its terror down the slopes of exploding Etna, Buries cities and blooming gardens in its purple flood, Until the burning stream is cooled in the sacred sea.

So the King ventures now, burning, destroying cities, And his splendid forces plunge in tumult from Ecbatan. But on the shores of Salamis, O day, on the shores of Salamis, The women of Athens, the virgins, stand waiting for the end.

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And the mothers stand rocking their saved young sons in their arms. And out of the depths, as they listen, the voice of the sea- god resounds. Prophesying victory, and the gods look down from heaven. Weighing and judging, for there on the quaking shores. Like a slowly moving tempest, there on the foaming waters, The battle has swayed since dawn, and noon is burning already Over the heads of the warriors, unnoticed in their rage. But now the men of the people, those descendants of he- roes, govern Clearer eyes, they whom the gods love think of their Predestined happiness, the children of Athens do not Restrain their genius now, their death-despising gift.

For, like a desert beast, with boihng blood, which once More rises, transformed and equal to a greater force, Startling the himter, now in the middle of disaster, As weapons flash, the weary spirit rises strong Once more, rewound with savage force at the call of the leaders.

And the battle grows more fiery; like pairs of wrestlers Ship seizes ship, the rudder reels in the sea. The decks break under the warriors, and ships and sailors sink. He threatens and pleads and exults and sends fast mes- sengers; But he sends in vain, for none returns to him with hope.

German dictionary: Words & meanings in English

Blood-soaked messengers, slain soldiers, shattered ships That avenger, the thundering wave, flings at him number- less Before his throne, where he sits glumly on the quaking shore Watching the flight; then, pulled away by his fleeing troop. He runs, for the god drives him and drives his routed squadron Over the sea, the god who, scorning vain jewelry, Struck, at last, and reached the weakling in imposing armor. Mingling joyously, the shining band rushes down To the deserted valley, much like an aged mother When, after years have passed, a child thought lost Returns again to her bosom, alive, a grown young man.

But her soul is clouded with grief and joy comes too late to her. Wearied by hoping, and she barely understands What her loving son says to her in his gratitude; So seems the earth of their homeland to the returning band. But they ask in vain for their groves, these pious Athenians, And the friendly door no longer welcomes the victor As it once received the wanderer when, joyously. He returned from the islands, and the sacred citadel Of Mother Athena rose, far-shining, over his yearning head.

And soon the husband seeks and finds the place of his own Home under the ruins; his wife weeps, with her arms Around his neck, remembering the loved place where they slept; The children ask where the table is at which they sat In lovely row, watched over by their fathers, the smihng gods of the home.

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The people raise tents, old neighbors are reunited now, And near the dwelling place of their reviving hearts They lay out airy houses for themselves on the hills. So they live now, for a while, like their free ancestors. They who knew their strength and believed in the coming day And moved from mountain to mountain like wandering birds, with song, Lords of the awesome forests and far-wandering streams.

And again the constant Mother Earth receives her noble Folk, as before, and under sacred, beneficent heaven They softly sleep as the young winds blow around them, Mildly as before, and the sound of iHssus rises Through the plane trees, and, foretelhng new and better Days, inspiring greater deeds, the waves of the sea-god Roar by night from afar, send happy dreams to the loved ones. And golden flowers bud and bloom again, at last, In the trodden fields; the olive trees are green. Now tended by pious hands; and on the plains of Colonus The Athenian horses graze again, peacefully.

Look I The forest serves the creator, and Pentelicus, Like other neighboring mountains, gives him marble and ore; Alive, like himself, and happy and great, his work springs from His hands, and, like the sun, it succeeds for him easily. Fountains rise in the air, and over the hills, in clean And guided courses, a spring leaps into glittering basins; And around them shines, like celebrating heroes At the conmion cup, a row of dwellings; the resplendent Prytaneum rises high; the gymnasiums are open; The temples of the gods ascend, and that of Zeus, A bold and sacred design, climbs through the air toward the gods From its happy grove; and there are many heavenlike halls!

For you. Mother Athena, your glorious hill grew high And prouder out of its sorrow, and it blossomed for many years, And to you, O god of the sea, your loved ones, gathered in joy. Often sang thanks from the headland where the laurel grows.

Will my eyes never see them? Ah, on the thousand Paths of the green earth the ardent searcher will never find Your godhke forms, and was it for this I learned your speech.

Sterben im Hospiz: Der Tod gehört zum Leben dazu - SWR Heimat - Menschen aus Rheinland-Pfalz

The saga of your past, that my always mourning soul Should rush down blindly to your shades before its time? Where your sacred hill covers its lonely head with clouds, To Parnassus will I go, and when, in the dark of the oaks. The glimmering spring of Kastalia meets me, wandering, I will pour from a blossom-scented cup, there on the rich.

German dictionary: Words & meanings in English

Springing green, water mixed with tears, and with it, all you sleepers, I shall make a death oflFering. There in the quiet valley, near Tempers overhanging rocks, 1 will Hve with you, and there, O glorious names, I will call you at night, and when you storm in anger Because a plow has profaned your graves, I will atone With the voice of the heart and with pious song, O holy shades.

Until my soul is wholly accustomed to Hfe with you. Then will your acolyte ask much of you, O dead. And of you, the living, as well, you high powers of the skyi When you pass by carrying your years over the ruins, You in undeviating course, for often this labyrinth Under the stars dismays me, like chill winds at the bosom. So that I search for counsel, and no longer do The prophetic groves of Dodona speak comfort to those in need. And dumb is the Delphic god, and lonely and empty lie The paths where once, led lightly by his hopes, A questioner could chmb to the seat of the honest seer.

But there is light on high, it speaks to mankind even today, Full of bright meanings, and the voice of the great thun- derer Calls: Do you think of me? And the sorrowful waves of the sea-god Resound: Do you never think of me as before? For the gods rest happily in feeling hearts, and today, As always, the inspiring powers gladly guide A striving man, and over the hills of the homeland The encompassing atmosphere rests and rules and stays So that a loving people, gathered in its father's arms.

May be humanly happy again and possess a spirit in com- mon. Men are bound to their own tasks Alone, and in the roaring workshop each can hear Only himself. They work hke savages, steadily. With powerful, restless arms, but always and always The labor of the fools is sterile, like the Furies.

So it will be until, awakened from anxious dreams, The souls of men arise, youthfully glad, and the blessed Breath of love blows in a newer time, as it often did For the blossoming children of Hellas, and over freer brows The spirit of nature, the far-wandering, shines for us again In silent, hngering divinity from golden clouds. Ah, do you linger still? And must God-created men Live always, O day, as if they were in the depths of the earth, All lonely there below, while ever-living spring Dawns unsung over the heads of the sleepers?

Not any longerl Already I hear, in the distance, A festive choral song on the green hill and its echo in the grove, Where the breasts of the young lift happily and where the souls of the people Quietly join in a freer song for the honor of The god to whom the heights and the valleys are sacred; For where a youthful, growing stream runs gaily on Under the flowers of the land, and where on sunny plains The rich grain and the orchard ripen, there, in festival.

Even the pious wear crowns, and on the hill of the city A heavenly hall of joy, seemingly man-made, shines. For life is now full of godlike sensibility. And everywhere, O Nature, you appear again As perfection to your children, and as from mountain springs Your blessings flow into the waking soul of the people. Ah, then, O joys of Athens, O great achievements in Sparta, O precious springtime in Greece, when our holy harvest comes, When it ripens, O glorious spirits of all the ancient world, Come back and see that the year's perfection is near!

Then our festival will honor you, long-gone days! Conceal the griever From peering day! And crown with eternal leaf, you groves Of laurel, the hill of your dead ones there at Marathon, Where the youths died in victory. Ah, there on the fields of Chaeronea, Where the last Athenians ran away with their weapons.


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But you, O immortal sea-god, if the song of the Greeks No longer rises from the waves to please you, as before. Still sound for me often in my soul, that over your waters The fearless, lively spirit, like a swimmer, may move In freshness and strength and understand the speech of the gods. Change and becoming, and if this destructive, raging time Should seize my head too firmly and the needs and errors Of mortal men should rock my life with blows.

Let me remember then the silence of your depths. Bliiht Jonien, ist es die Zeit? Deiner Inseln ist noch, der bliihenden, keine verloren.