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Star in My Forehead:
Selected Poems by Else Lasker-Schüler
Translated by Janine Canan, Holy Cow! Press, Duluth, 2000, 123 pages.

 

New Translations Catch Feeling of Else Lasker-Schüler's Poetry

These short, lyric poems are heartbreakingly beautiful examples of the work of a woman who ought to be much better known to Jewish readers. Born in the the Rhineland in 1869, Else Lasker-Schueler became first a painter and then a poet, often illustrating her own books. She was called the "greatest lyric poet of modern Germany" in the 1920s and won the prestigious Kleist Prize in 1932--at the age of 62.

Her early poems appear in two books, "Song of the Blessed" and "Hebrew Ballads." While written in German, they strongly reflect her Jewish heritage as well as her Expressionist style; in fact, she was part of that movement, which flourished in Berlin oin the early years of the century.

By 1932, Lasker-Schueler had lost not only her parents and sister, but also her husband and only son. When she was struck by a Nazi with an iron bar--in the very year she had won the prize--she didn't even go home. Instead, she ran to the railway station and arrived penniless in Zurish. After she was arrested for vagrancy, the Swiss literary public organized benefits for her.

By 1939, Lasker-Schueler had mover to Jerusalem, whose fantastic image had been the dream of her childhood and the subject of her prayers and poems, but without an appreciative or understanding public, she was neglected. She died there in 1945.

Besides being an artist, she costumed herself as many characters as she went about her daily life. When reading her poems, she often dressed as "Prince Jussuf of Thebes" and accompaniewd herself with flute, harmonica, and bells.

The poems in this volume are printed with the original German on one side of the page and the English on the facing page. There have been earlier translations, but these seem to me to catch the music, rhythm, and mystical feeling of the original. Here is a poem written before 1920 from her book "Hebrew Ballads:"

Sabaoth

God, I love you in your gown of roses
as you step from the garden, Sabaoth.
Oh my young God,
my Poet--lonely
I drank from your fragrance.

The first bloom of my blood
craved you, so come,
my sweet God,
my playmate God.
Your golden gate melts in my longing.

--Ruth Brin
American Jewish World
9/2000