Anarchistbanjo's World

Chrysanthemums

Katie, who reads my songs,
Wants me to write about chrysanthemums.
Chrysanthemums—
The flowers that Katie loves.
So now she stands before me at the writing desk,
And I put my head in my hands and search, search
For the soul of this flower—
And I think:
Yes—two images come to me,
That can put me on the track—
One: the delicate, sensitive Frenchman,
Pierre Loti visualized it and painted it
In the foggy tones of “The Boys of Glasgow”,
And hidden in a painting by Whistler,
He called his vision—“Madame Chrysanthemum”.
Yet these flowers speak differently to me,
Still, I can’t find their soft tones
And their voices—
Let me search further—
And the other image?
In my mother’s house, on one floor
In a brilliant white area is a
Black framed sketch of the Madonna,
The one sitting—and on both sides,
Are two small end tables,
Which hold large, gray vases.
But mother always puts chrysanthemums
In the vases,
Chrysanthemums, and only chrysanthemums.
Why only chrysanthemums?
No, red Mallows should be there,
Red, white and violet mallows!
And I search for the soul of this flower,
And can’t find a trace of it anywhere.
I have to ask Katie!
“Katie! Katie!”
Katie comes and rocks in the chair!
“Oh, you big fool!—you muse, muse,
Meditate and think—and my lovely flower
Says nothing to you?”
Then listen: “The coquette shepherd girls
From Trianon, at the festival
Carried colored chrysanthemums on their staffs—
And at the ball Katie laughs and dances,
And on her white shoulders laughs
Colored chrysanthemums.
Fluttering soft petals, like those of the
Colorful shepherd girls, that play in the wind,
That forget all troubles and sorrows.
And the short hours of sweet embrace,
That delight the poor senses!
You see—that—is everything!”
And I kneel:
“Katie, let me kiss your shoulders,
On your shoulders I kiss your flowers,
Soft chrysanthemums:—Katharina!”

-Hanns Heinz Ewers
translated by Joe Bandel