One day in blue-moon September,
Silent under a plum tree,
I held her, my silent pale love
in my arms like a fair and lovely dream.
Above us in the summer skies,
Was a cloud that caught my eye.
It was so white and high up,
and when I looked up, it was no longer there.
And since that moment, many a September
Came sailing in, then floated down the stream.
No doubt the plum trees were cut down for timber
And if you ask what happened to my dream
I shall reply: I cannot now remember
Though what you have in mind I surely know.
And yet her face: I really don't recall it.
I just recall I kissed long ago.
Even the kiss would have been long forgotten
If that white cloud had not been in the sky.
I know the cloud, and shall know it forever,
It was pure white and, oh, so very high.
Perhaps the plum trees still are there and blooming.
Perhaps that woman has seven children too.
But that white cloud bloomed only for a moment:
When I looked up, it vanished in the blue.
Original German:
I am interested in quoting Memory of Marie A in my memoir which will be published in 2026…is this your translation? I have seen many versions but I like this one.
It is hard to figure out how to get permission to quote though.
Please let me know if this is your translation and/or whether I have permission to quote it.
Yes, often I translate foreign poetry as a way to pass time and challenge my comfort with English.
For example, Brecht speaks in German of wind blowing away clouds, which I took to be more like (dynamic equivalence) our expansive use of “blue” in English.
What I like most in this poem is Brecht’s logical progression from experience to memory to analysis (in modern terms like data ingestion, processing, visualization), very much in line with German philosophical traditions to assess even our emotions with scientific precision.