The Goethe poem I got to analyze in my German oral exam today (Nähe des Geliebten, aka. Closeness of the Loved One [masc. pronoun used]) was absolute peak Schoethe and I have Thoughts, if only I had been able to build more coherent sentences earlier today to prove it in ten minutes-
The Goethe House (Goethes Wohnhaus) is a building located in Weimar, Germany. It is the primary house lived in by the influential writer, poet, and statesman Johann Wolfgang von Goethe from 1782 to 1832 (although he did live in several others in the town).[1] The house was built in 1709 by Georg Caspar Helmershausen. However, the rooms were personally redesigned by Goethe once he arrived in Weimar to reflect the ideals of the burgeoning Weimar Classicism movement, in which Goethe was especially prominent.[1] Many of the original furnishings are still present in the house.
-Wikipedia
Theobald Reinhold Freiherr von Oer "Der Weimarer Musenhof" (Weimar’s Courtyard of the Muses) 1860 Schiller reads in the gardens of Tiefurt Castle, Weimar. Amongst the audience, seated at the far left, are Wieland and Herder, while Goethe stands before the pillar, at right. In 1860, 55 years after Schiller's death in 1805, this oil painting was produced showing a reading of his poems in the park of the Schloss Tiefurt (Tiefurt Castle, Weimar).
I think it's finally time to show Tumblr the masterpiece of a Schoethe song that me and a friend from school wrote for German class last year. It's musical fanfiction basically! (And we got 15 points/a straight A for this cause my German teach is very based :>) (I sing Goethe's part here)
I'll put an English translation (a bit messy but it should do) for the non-german speaking people below so just scroll past the German lyrics! (Yes I'm too lazy to make a sideblog. Also I believe that propaganda about German literature gayness must be spread☝️)
It's somewhat shitposty but with effort (I mean the instrumental isn't as great as it could've been cause time pressure but yk)
The setting is after Schiller's death, Goethe is moping about it and then Schiller's ghost shows up and tells him to stop whining and create more art to honour him instead, then it just goes into their backstory and poetic stuff lol. The 'jar of Schiller's spirit' is his skull that Goethe wrote an entire poem about.
Anywayssss lyrics under the cut!
Meine Güte Schillert
Goethe: Der Untergang ist längst gefallen
Des neuen Morgens meiner Kunst
Und aus meiner trüben Einzelheit
Ach, zöge mich das Echo deines Geistesstrahls!
Herfort, zurück, im Zug der Zeit
Schiller: Der auf seiner Reise nicht stehenbleibt!
G: Aber der Weg zurück ist doch versperrt
Ich bin im Herbst
S: Herbst, sei durch Frühling doch vertrieben!
Das einzige was noch von mir geblieben
Lebt endlos in deinem Genie
Spinnt immer neue Melodien
G: Nur hören kann ich leider nicht
Illusion ist das Gesicht
S: Illusion schreibt Poesie
Ohne ihr fließen Worte nicht
G: Es spaßt, die andren zu verwirren
Doch einem selbst das Herz sie bricht
S: Dann labe nicht an meinem Geiste
Und lege sein Gefäß mal fort
G: Aber es ist das letzte Stück
Von dir, der Rest am andern Ort
S: Klag nicht, ich gab dir ne Dekade
Drum wär es doch auch viel zu schade
Dein Schaffen dekadiern zu sehn
G: Du warst die Hälfte meines Daseins
S: Drum änder dies, mein Freund, auch nicht
So unsre Seele nicht zerbricht
Nun dichte mir ein letztes mal,
Wie schmolz ich denn das Herz aus Stahl?
September '88 wars geschehn
G: Frisch mit Olivenbaumgeruch
Von altem Wind beweht
Kehrt ich zurück zu meinem Heim
Glut in ne Schachtel eingepackt
Die Flamme in ein Glas verfracht
Da zischt' ein Unhold in mein' alten Hain
Mit kindlichem Gereime
Geklebt an alten Zeilen
Beäugtest mich
So zappelig und klein!
S: Trotz deinem geilen Geiste
Der meinem war der meister
Konnt ich dich garnicht leiden denn dein Ego
War größer als ein Isengard aus Lego
G: Was denkst du dir da aus, du b'rauschte Maus?
Was sprichtst du mir für ungeheure Worte
von ungemeiner Wucht?
S: Die hört ich aus der Schlucht
Oder wars doch ne Gruft?
Das weiß man nicht genau
Man munkelt, es sei blau
G: Schon immer warst du viel zu hopsig-schlau
S: Ach komm, genau das hat dich doch gelockt
Und deine dunklen Locken so geschockt
G: Geschockt von deinem Wahnwitz waren sie!
S: Mein Wahnwitz war diejenige Magie
Die dich an meinen Sinn gezaubert hat
G: So kochend war dein eifriges Genie
Dass ich sehn musste, was für Supp' es macht!
S: Der Sommer 94 hatte uns zusamm'gehängt
Seither hast du mir immer deinen besten Wein geschenkt
G: Da gibt's wohl keinen Widerspruch, der wilde, junge Kerl
Hat mich in seinen Schaffenskreis genervt!
Zusammen: Denn wenn ein Text zu lange ruht
Und ein Gehirn nicht reicht
Ein zweites leiht den Tintenfluss
Bevor der Vers verbleicht
Im Walzer ringen unsre Geister
Im heilgen tänzerischen Kampf
[Instrumental]
S: Lass unsern Vers nicht los!
G: Ich lass den Text nicht ruhn
English Translation
G: The bitter ending has long fallen
Of the new morning of my art
And from my dullest loneliness
Oh, would drag me the echo of your spirit's light!
Out here and back, in the train of time
S: That on its journey will not stop!
G: But the way back is shut,
I am in autumn
S: Autumn, be gone by the spring's will!
Whatever hast remained of me
Lives on in your genius
Ever spinning new melodies
G: Yet I just cannot hear them
Illusion is the face of it
S: Illusion writes poetry
Without it, language doesn't flow
G: Confusing others is amusing,
But then it shatters your own heart
S: Then do not feast upon my spirit
And put away its goddamn jar
G: But it's the only thing I've left
Of you, the rest ist elsewhere now
S: Don't whine, I gave you a whole decade
Thus it would be a pity seeing
The decadence of your creation
G: You were the half of my existence
S: So do not change this, oh my friend,
For our soul not to get broken
Now, rhyme for me one final time
How did I melt your heart of steel?
September '88 is when it happened
G: Fresh with the smell of olive trees
Outblown by ancient wind
Had I returned to my homeland
The embers packed into a box
The flame imprisoned in a glass
There was a fiend, whizzing through my old grove!
With naive, childish rhyming
Glued to old lines you were
And eyeing me,
So wriggly and small!
S: Despite your lovely spirit
Which was for mine the master
I just could not stand you, for your ego
Was higher than Isengard made of Lego
G: What are you making up, you tipsy mouse?
What are those monstrous words
Of tremendous force?
S: I heard them in the gorge
Or maybe twas a crypt?
It isn't all that clear
Some rumours say it's blue
G: Well, you have always been too hopping-smart
S: Oh come now, that's what had you lured
And shocked your fabulous dark curls
G: What shocked them was your jestly madness!
S: My madness was the very magic that
Has spellbound you to my mind
G: So boiling was your eager genius,
That I just had to see what kind of soup it cooks!
S: The summer of '94 strung us together, ever since
You've always given me your finest wine
G: That I can't contradict, I suppose, the wild young lad
