Sonntag, 27. August 2017

Harry Graham (44)

Aus »Deportmental Ditties and Other Verses«:
Harry Graham: The Trucks of Truro. A Ballad for the Boudoir
A writer in Punch declares that the saddest sight he ever saw was a row of dispirited trucks standing in a siding, on each of which was painted the bitter words, »This truck not to go East of Truro.«

When the waters of the Douro
   Flow up-country from the sea;
When these trucks go East of Truro,
   Then my heart will faithless be!
Sparkling like some rich liqueur, oh!
Tender, delicate and pure, oh!
As Bellini's chiaroscuro,
   Is the love that kindles me!
When these trucks go East of Truro,
   Then will I be false to thee!

Though the clerk forget his bureau,
   I will not forgetful be!
Though these trucks go East of Truro,
   Thou shalt not go East of me!
Though each celebrated Euro-
Pean oculist or neuro-
Path, when he effects a cure, o-
   Mit to take his patient's fee!
Though these trucks go East of Truro,
   I will still have truck with thee!

Sonntag, 20. August 2017

Harry Graham (43)

Das Sonntagsgedicht aus »The Motley Muse«:
Harry Graham: Perspective

[»It is sad and humiliating, but true, that our humanity is a matter
of geography.« — The Pall Mall Gazette.]

When told that twenty thousand Japs
   Are drowned in a typhoon,
We feel a trifle shocked, perhaps,
   But neither faint nor swoon.
»Dear me! How tragic!« we repeat;
   »Ah, well! Such things must be!«
Our ordinary lunch we eat
   And make a hearty tea;
Such loss of life (with shame I write)
Creates no loss of appetite!

When on a Rocky Mountain ranch
   Two hundred souls, all told,
Are buried in an avalanche.
   The tidings leave us cold.
»Poor fellows!« we remark. »Poor things!«
   »All crushed to little bits!«
Then go to Bunty Pulls the Strings,
   Have supper at the Ritz,
And never even think again
Of land-slides in the State of Maine!

But when the paper we take in
   Describes how Mr. Jones
Has slipped on a banana-skin
   And broken sev'ral bones,
»Good Heavens! What a world!« we shout
   »Disasters never cease!«
»What is the Government about?«
   »And where are the Police?«
Distraught by such appalling news
All creature comforts we refuse!

Though plagues exterminate the Lapp,
   And famines ravage Spain,
They move us not like some mishap
   To a suburban train.
Each foreign tale of fire or flood,
   How trumpery it grows
Beside a broken collar-stud,
   A smut upon the nose!
For Charity (Alas! how true!)
Begins At Home — and ends there, too!

Sonntag, 13. August 2017

Harry Graham (42)

Aus »Baby's Baedeker«:
Harry Graham: Portugal

You are requested, if you please,
   To note that here a people lives
Referred to as the Portuguese;
   A fact which naturally gives
The funny man a good excuse
To call his friend a Portugoose.

Avoid the obvious, if you can,
And never be a funny man.

Sonntag, 6. August 2017

Harry Graham (41)

Heute ein Vierzeiler aus »Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes« + meine Übersetzung:

Harry Graham: Appreciation

Auntie, did you feel no pain
   Falling from that apple tree?
Will you do it, please, again?
   'Cos my friend here didn't see.



Tantchen, fühlst du keine Qual
   nach dem Sturz vom Apfelbaum?
Fall doch bitte noch einmal,
   denn mein Freund hier sah es kaum.