Sex und Lust gehören einfach zusammen. Egal ob Frauen, Männer oder Paare. Alle haben ein Recht auf hemmungslosen Sex. Dank der Emanzipation dürfen.
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- German translation of 'lust'
- German Translation of “lust” | Collins English-German Dictionary
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Do you refuse to make atonement? Da einst ich's schwang, als mir die Rache im Busen rang: Am Obermast die Segel ein! Was hast du mir zu sagen? Before long we still be standing before King Mark. When you escort me, would it not be good if you were to speak to him thus: A more gentle wife you would never have won.
Her betrothed I once slew, his head I sent home to her. The wounds which his arms inflicted she tenderly healed. My life lay in her power; the gentle maid gave it to me, and her land's shame and disgrace she gave me with it, to be your consort. Gracious thanks for such sweet gifts were awakened in me by a sweet draught of reconciliation. In it was contained her grace which absolved me from all guilt. Sails and mast to the wind! He seizes the goblet from her Well I know Ireland's queen and the wondrous power of her craft. I used the ointment Wir sind am Ziel: Ihren Angelobten erschlug ich ihr einst, sein Haupt sandt' ich ihr heim; die Wunde, die seine Wehr mir schuf, die hat sie hold geheilt; mein Leben lag in ihrer Macht: Das Steuer dem Strom!
Den Winden Segel und Mast! I shall take the goblet that I may be fully cleansed. And witness too the oath of reconciliation which I take, in gratitude to you. Tristan's honour, utter loyalty!
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Tristan's misery, keenest defiance! Heart's deceit, wishful dreaming! The only consolation in eternal mourning. Beneficent draught of forgetsulness, I drain you unweaveringly! She snatches the goblet Traitor! I drink to you! Then she throws the goblet aside. In the grip of terror, they gaze steadily into each other's eyes in utmost agitation, but unmoving.
In their eyes deadly defiance gives way to the glow of love. They are seized with trembling. They clutch convulsively at their hearts and raise their hands to their heads. Then their eyes seek out one another, are cast down again in confusion, and meet again with growing desire ISOLDE her voice trembling Tristan! They remain in silent embrace In the distance trumpets are heard den sie bot: Ew'ger Trauer einz'ger Trost: Ich trink sie dir!
Dann wirft sie die Schale fort. BRANGAENE looking away in confusion and terror, has leaned over the rail, now turns to see the couple clasped in a loving embrace and moves downstage, wringing her hands in despair Ah! Inescapable eternal misery instead of an early death! The deceiving effects of foolish loyalty now bear their miserable fruit. How all our senses pulsate with bliss!
Longing devotion's burgeoning blossoms, yearning love's blessed glow!
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My breast bursting with exultant delight! Broken free of the world, won for me!
You my only awareness, utmost rapture of love! The curtains are pulled apart, the whole ship is crowded with knights and sailors waving joyfully over the side towards the shore which can be seen close by, with a high, rocky fortress. Tristan and Isolde remain lost in gazing at one another, unaware of what is happening arounf them BRANGAENE to the ladies who, at her command, have come up from below deck Quickly, the mantle here, the royal raiment! Listen, don't you hear where we are? Hail to King Mark! Long live the King! Wie alle Sinne wonnig erbeben! Jach in der Brust jauchzende Lust!
Welten entronnen, du mir gewonnen! Mit reichem Hofgesinde, dort auf Nachen Lord Mark is approaching. Ah, how the journey delights him, winning a bride. What are they calling out? What was that draught? She falls on his breast, unconscious naht Herr Marke. Oh happiness in thrall to deceit! A garden with tall trees in front of Isolde's apartments with steps leading up to it at one side.
A clear, pleasant summer's night. At the open door is placed a burning torch. Brangaene, on the steps to the apartments, looks out after the hunting party as their sounds fade away into the distance. Thay are out of my hearing already. Mir schwand schon fern der Klang. You are misled by the grove's whisperings, laughingly rustling in the wind. She listens I can hear the horns calling. ISOLDE listening again The calling of horns does not sound so sweet, it is the stream's gently murmuring waves flowing along so gaily. How could I hear that if horns were still calling?
In the still of the night it is just stream that laughs with me. He who is waiting for me in the silence of the night, as if horns still sounded nearby, do you want to keep him for me? Because you are so blinded do you imagine that the sight of the world has been dimmed for you too? When, on board ship, from Tristan's trembling hand the pallid bride, scarcely conscious, was received by King Mark, when everybody bemusedly watched her wavering there, the kingly King, with gentle concern, loudly bewailed the trials of the voyage which you had undergone.
Im Schweigen der Nacht nur lacht mir der Quell. With a threatening gaze full of malevolent guile he sought to find in his expression whatever would serve his purpose. Spitefully listening I have often found him. Of him who secretly sets snares for you both, of Melot, be warned! Oh, how mistaken you are! Is he not Tristan's dearest friend? If my beloved cannot be with me, then he is only in Melot's company. From Tristan to Mark is Melot's path: Those who decided today on this night hunt, so promptly and quickly planned, have a nobler quarry than you imagine as the target of their huntsmen's cunning.
Do you now scold this faithful friend? Better than you does he care for me; to him he opens up what you bar to me. Oh, spare me the distress of further delay! Oh, give the signal! Extinguish the light's last glimmer! That it may fall completely, give Night its signal! Ist er nicht Tristans treuester Freund?
Muss mein Trauter mich meiden, dann weilt er bei Melot allein. Nun willst du den Treuen schelten? O gib das Zeichen! Dass ganz sie sich neige, winke der Nacht. Schon goss sie ihr Schweigen through the groves and the house, already it fills the heart with ecstatic terror! Oh, extinguish the light now, extinguish its dread rays! Let my beloved come! How wretched I am! That, unfaithful just once, I betrayed my mistress's will! Had I obeyed, deaf and blind, your work would have been death!
But your disgrace, your ignominious distress are my work, and I, the guilty one, must know it! Do you not know the Love Spirit, not know her magic's power? The Queen of boldest courage, Regent of the world's course? Love and Death are subject to her, she weaves them out of bliss and sorrow, transmuting envy into love. Death's work, upon which I audaciously embarked, the Love Spirit wrested it from my power.
She took the girl destined for death under her sway and took her work into her own hands. However she performed it, however she completes it, wherever she may choose for me, wherever she may lead me, I became subject to her. Now let me display my obedience! Lass meinen Liebsten ein! Dass ich untreu einmal nur der Herrin Willen trog! Gehorcht' ich taub und blind, dein Werk war dann der Tod. Frau Minne kenntest du nicht? Nicht ihres Zaubers Macht? Die Todgeweihte nahm sie in Pfand, fasste das Werk in ihre Hand. The gleaming signal of danger, oh, not now, do not extinguish the torch now!
The will of the Love Spirit is - let it be night, that brightly she may shine forth, She hurries to the torch where she shuns your light! She takes the torch from the doorway To the tower with you! This light, were it the light of my life, laughing, I do not hesitate to extinguish it. She throws the torch to the ground where it gradually dies out Brangaene turns away in dismay to climb an outside stairway to the tower, where she gradually disappears from sight Isolde listens and looks, timidly at first, along an avenue of trees.
Moved by a growing desire she approaches the trees and looks more carefully. She waves with a kerchief, a little at first, then, with passionate impatience, more and more quickly A gesture of sudden delight proclaims that she has noticed her beloved in the distance. Der Gefahr leuchtendes Licht, nur heute, heut'!
You, clasped in my arms? O heart's rapture, o sweet, most sublime, boldest, loveliest, most blessed joy! Halt ich dich fest? Ist es kein Trug? Away for so long! So near yet how far! Wie fern so lang! So nah wie weit! Drawn-out time's lingering expanse! Oh, this light, how long before it was extinguished! The sun set, Day ran its course but it would not stifle its spite: For Day, for spiteful Day, the most bitter foe, hatred and grievance!
Just as you extinguished the light, would that I could extinguish the light of insolent Day to avenge the pangs of love! Is there any distress, is there any anguish which it does not revive with its beams? O dieses Licht, wie lang verlosch es nicht! Die Sonne sank, der Tag verging, doch seinen Neid erstickt' er nicht: Gibt's eine Not, gibt's eine Pein, die er nicht weckt mit seinem Schein? Selbst in der Nacht darkling glory my beloved harbours it in her house, letting its threatening beams fall towards me. ISOLDE Is your beloved keeps it in her own house, so did my love once defiantly foster it in his heart, bright and devious: Tristan, he that betrayed me!
Was it not Day that made him false when he came to Ireland as a suitor to court me for King Mark, to dedicate loyalty to Death? Which shimmered round about you, to there where she seemed like the sun in highest honour's radiant glow, Isolde withdrew from me! That which so delighted my eye made my heart sink to the depths of the earth: What lies did evil Day tell you that you betrayed your dearest, she that was destined to be yours?
TRISTAN In the grip of madness I could not but yeld my heart to that which shimmered round about you in majestic splendour, the glitter of honour and the power of renown. Tristan, - der mich betrog! Die mit des Schimmers hellstem Schein shining upon me with the brightest radiant glow, penetrated my head with its beams of vain bliss and reached the deepest recesses of my heart.
What lay there darkly concealed in chaste night, what I dimly perceived, not knowing, not imagining; a form, which my eyes could not believe they saw, caught in the light of Day, lay there gleaming before me. Before the whole throng I praised in clear tones what seemed to me so glorious and sublime; before all the people I extolled aloud the loveliest royal bride on earth. I bade defiance to the envy which Day awakened in me, to the zeal which threatened my happiness, to the jealousy which began to make honour and fame a burden to me, and firmly resolved to uphold honour and glory, to go to Ireland.
Deceived by that which deceived you, how I, loving you, suffered on your account; caught in Day's false glitter, in the snare of its cunning, in the depths of my heart, where burning love encompassed him, I hated him bitterly. Ah, what piercing pain in the recesses of my heart! How hard he whom I secretly harboured there must have thought me when, in the light of Day my faithfully cherished one vanished to loving eyes and stood before me only as a foe!
From the light of Day which made you appear to me a traitor I wished to flee into Night, to take you with me, where my heart would bid me end all deception, where the vain premonition of treachery might be dispelled, there to pledge to you eternal love, to consecrate you to Death in company with myself. TRISTAN When I recognised sweet death offered to me at your hand; when a bold and clear presentiment showed me what expiation demanded; there dawned gently in my heart the lofty power of Night; my Day was then accomplished. Hail to the draught!
Hail to its magic's sublime power! Heil seines Zaubers hehrer Kraft! Durch des Todes Tor, wide and open it flowed towards me opening up the wondrous realm of Night where I had only been in dreams. From the image in my heart's sheltering cell it repelled day's deceiving beams, so that in darkness my eyes might serve to see it clearly.
ISOLDE Yet banished Day avenged itself; with yours sins it took counsel; what darkling Night showed you you had to surrender to the regal power of the Day-star, to live alone, gleaming there in solitary splendour. How could I bear it? How can I endure it now? Spiteful Day with ready envy could part us with its tricks but no longer mislead us with guile. Its vain glory, its flaunting display are mocked by those to whom Night has granted sight. The fleeting flashes of its flickering light no longer dazzle us.
Wie ertrug ich's nur? Wie ertrag ich's noch? Seine eitle Pracht, seinen prahlenden Schein verlacht, wem die Nacht den Blick geweiht: Wer des Todes Nacht liebend erschaut, wem sie ihr tief Geheimnis vertraut: Amid the vain fancy of Day he still harbours one desire - the yearning for sacred Night where, all-eternal, true alone, love's bliss smiles on him!
Night soon melts away. Bald entweicht die Nacht. Yours and mine, Isolde's love? What strokes of death could ever make it yeld? If mighty Death stood before me threatening the very life in my body which I would so gladly leave for love, how could it reach love itself? Were I to give my life to that for which I would so gladly die, how could love die with me, the ever-living end with me? And if his love were never to die how could Tristan die of his love? This sweet little word: Tristan with a meaningful gesture, gently draws Isolde to him Dein' und mein', Isoldes Liebe?
Night soon gives way to Day.
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Schon weicht dem Tag die Nacht. Gloriously sublime Night of love! Those whom you have embraced, upon whom you have smiled, how could they ever waken without fear? Now banish dread, sweet death, yearned for, longed for death-in-love! In your arms, consecrated to you, sacred elemental quickening force, free from the peril of waking!
How to grasp it, how to leave it, this bliss far from the sun's, far from Day's parting sorrows! Free from delusion gentle yearning, free from fearing sweet longing. Free from sighing sublime expiring. Free from languishing enclosed in sweet darkness. No evasion no parting, just we alone, ever home, in unmeasured realms of ecstatic dreams. Nun banne das Bangen, holder Tod, sehnend verlangter Liebestod! In deinen Armen, dir geweiht, urheilig Erwarmen, von Erwachens Not befreit! They remain in a rapturous embrace neu Erkennen, neu Entbrennen; endlos ewig, ein-bewusst: Kurwenal, Brangaene, Mark, Melot and Courtiers.
Brangaene emits a shrill cry. Horrified, he casts a glance offstage. Mark, Melot and courtiers in hunting dress come rapidly from the avenue of trees and stop in horror at the sight of the lovers. Brangaene climbs down from the tower and runs to Isolde. Isolde, involuntarily seized by a sense of shame, leans back, her face turned aside, on the flowery bank. Tristan, also in spite of himself, raises his cloak on his arm so that it conceals Isolde from the sight of those just arrived. He remains in this position for a long period, unmoving, his cold gaze fixed on the men who, in various attitudes, fasten their eyes on him.
To give you my pledge with my head as the bond? I have shown him to you in the very act; your name and honour I have loyally preserved from disgrace. MARK in a state of profound shock, in a trembling voice Have you indeed? Is that what you think? Look at him there, the most faithful of the loyal.
Cast your eyes upon him, the dearest of friends. His loyalty's freest deed pierced my heart with its hostile treachery! If Tristan betrayed me, am I to hope that what his treachery has cost me should by Melot's counsel honestly be restored to me? MARK deeply affected This to me? This, Tristan, to me? Whither has loyalty fled now that Tristan has betrayed me? Das dir zum Pfand ich gab, ob ich mein Haupt gewahrt? Ich zeigt' ihn dir in offner Tat: Namen und Ehr' hab ich getreu vor Schande dir bewahrt. Sieh ihn dort, den treuesten aller Treuen; blick auf ihn, den freundlichsten der Freunde: Wohin nun Ehr' and honesty, now that the champion of all honour, Tristan, has lost it?
As Tristan appointed himself its emblem, where has virtue flown to, fleeing from my friend, from Tristan, who has betrayed me? Tristan slowly lowers his gaze; while Mark continues there can be read in his expression growing sadness Why did you serve me for so long? Why the reputation of honour, the power and greatness which you won for King Mark? Did the honour and renown, greatness and power, the services beyond number, have to be repaid by Mark's dishonour?
Did you value so lightly his gratitude which gave you as your very own inheritance that which you had won for him, his renown and his Kingdom? When, childless, his wife died, he loved you so much that never again did Mark intend to wed. When all the people from court and country thronged to him, begging and imploring him to give the country a queen and to take for himself a wife; when you yourself swore to your uncle that you would carry out the wishes of the court and the will of the country, then, against the wishes of court and country, in opposition even to you, with circumspection and kindness he declined until you, Tristan, threatened und echte Art, da aller Ehren Hort, da Tristan sie verlor?
Die Tristan sich zum Schild erkor, wohin ist Tugend nun entflohn, da meinen Freund sie flieht, da Tristan mich verriet? And so he let it be. This glorious woman that your courage won for me, who could behold her, who could know her, who could proudly call her his own and not think himself blessed? She, whom I could never dare approach, she for whom I foreswore my desires in bashful reverence, so splendid, so lovely, so sublime, who could not but refresh my soul, despite enemies and dangers this royal bride you presented to me. Now, since by such a possession you rendered my heart more open to pain than before, there, where I was rendered soft, sensitive and exposed was I stricken without hope that I might ever be healed.
Why so sorely, wretched man, did you wound me there now? There, with the weapon of tormenting poison, searing and maiming my senses and my mind so that my fidelity to my friend is stifled, my open heart filled with suspicion, so that now, secretly and in the dead of night I creep up on you, my friend, eavesdropping, and see my honour ended? No heaven will redeem it for me - why this hell for me? The uncharted depths of its mysterious causes, who will make them known to the world? He turns to Isolde who looks up at him longingly Wherever Tristan now goes will you, Isolde, follow him?
To that land of which Tristan spoke, where the sun's light does not shine; it is the dark land of Night out of which my mother sent me when he, whom she bore on her deathbed, left her in death to reach the light. From that which, when she bore me, was her fortress of love, the wondrous realm of Night, I then awoke. That is what Tristan offers you, thither he will precede you. Whether she will follow him in grace and faith, let Isolde now tell him. Now you are returning to your own estates to show me your inheritance; how could I flee that land that spans the whole world?
Wherever Tristan's home may be, there let Isolde go, there let her follow him in grace and faith, warum mir diese Schmach? Den unerforschlich tief geheimnisvollen Grund, wer macht der Welt ihn kund?
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Dem Land, das Tristan meint, der Sonne Licht nicht scheint: Was, da sie mich gebar, ihr Liebesberge war, das Wunderreich der Nacht, aus der ich einst erwacht; das bietet dir Tristan, dahin geht er voran: Wo Tristans Haus und Heim, da kehr Isolde ein: Tristan bends over her and kisses her gently on the forehead. Will you suffer this shame? He fixes his gaze on Melot This was my friend, exalted and dear was his devotion to me; for my honour and reputation none was more concerned than he. To impetuousness he drove my heart; he led the crowd that urged me to add to my honour and renown and to give you to the King as bride!
The sight of you, Isolde, blinded him too. Out of jealousy I was betrayed by my friend to the King, whom I had betrayed. He strides up to Melot Defend yourself, Melot! As Melot raises his sword towards him, Tristan lowers his and falls wounded into Kurwenal's arms. Isolde falls upon his breast. Mark holds Melot back. Duldest du diese Schmach? Er heftet den Blick auf Melot Mein Freund war der, er minnte mich hoch und teuer; um Ehr' und Ruhm mir war er besorgt wie keiner. Er dringt auf Melot ein Wehr dich, Melot! At one side a tall castle building, at the other a low parapet with a look-out post; upstage the castle gate.
The location can be seen as being a rock height; through openings the sea and the distant horizon can be seen. The whole scene conveys an impression of being deserted, ill-tended, here and there in poor repair and overgrown.
German translation of 'lust'
Downstage, inside the wall, Tristan is lying in the shade of a tall lime-tree, asleep on a couch, laid out as if lifeless. At his head sits Kurwenal, bent over him in anguish and carefully listening to his breathing. As the curtain goes up there can be heard from outside the gate a shepherd playing a sad, yearning tune on a reed-pipe. Im Vordergrunde, an der inneren Seite, liegt Tristan, unter dem Schatten einer grossen Linde, auf einem Ruhebett schlafend, wie leblos ausgestreckt. Kurwenal partly turns his head towards him Is he still not awake?
KURWENAL sadly shaking his head Were he to waken it would only be to depart for ever, if she, the healer, does not first appear, the only one who can succour us. Have you seen nothing yet? Still no ship out at sea? Would you like to report poor quality or formatting in this book? Click here Would you like to report this content as inappropriate? Click here Do you believe that this item violates a copyright? Your recently viewed items and featured recommendations.
German Translation of “lust” | Collins English-German Dictionary
View or edit your browsing history. Get to Know Us. Not Enabled Word Wise: Not Enabled Screen Reader: Enabled Average Customer Review: Warm breath blew on the back of each neck. Each body pressed into others, which expanded and contracted, breathing in time. Like an apocalyptic beast poised to take flight, gigantic, glowing with a thousand hearts. After warning the crowd that their common cause will require sacrifice, the speaker promises the crowd that its struggle can be transposed to the field of economic competition once it has fought for and won political emancipation.
But its portrayal of a body born in the performance of protest fails to address the existential distinction between actor and spectator. In fact, it reinstates the gap by portraying the protesters as a passive audience in the final line of the poem.
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Die Stimme in der Ferne brach. Dreitausend Menschen schrien und weinten The voice in the distance broke off. Three thousand people cried and sobbed. Walden drew attention to the illusory character of the political subjectivity created by this kind of manipulated performance in the next issue of Der Sturm. Marinetti but by two former collaborators of the most influential avant-garde periodical in Italian history, La Voce The Voice , a weekly edited by Giuseppe Prezzolini in Florence from late to The recent publication of their correspondence has shown that Papini and Soffici had been plotting to start a Futurist periodical with Marinetti for some time, but it is important to recognize that Marinetti never exercised editorial control over Lacerba Gramsci is also our source on circulation figures for Lacerba.
In a letter to Leon Trotsky of he claimed weekly sales had reached a phenomenal 20, before it ceased publication in Where Schickele tried to evoke the sense of being jostled amid a crowd listening to speeches about striking, Cavacchioli put the reader at the center of events as a strike turns into revolution.
In the first stanza, iconic symbols of industrial modernity smokestacks, gears, assembly lines, jackhammers are presented as mechanical extensions of the human body. Two red trumpets blare the starting signal: At this point the poem pauses to consider the machinery abandoned by its human masters before returning in the third stanza to the striking workers.
The primary image in this third stanza is the sea, which Sigmund Freud would later discuss in Civilization and its Discontents as a metaphor that is commonly used to describe the religious sense of communion created by group identifications that demand the sacrifice of individual ego. This is the feeling Schickele evoked in "Tivoli-Vauxhall": Marea disordinata del terrore. Singhiozzo maciullato dal pianto. Urlo, grande urlo di una sola bocca.
Pugno di un solo braccio gigantesco. Disordered sea of terror. Maelstrom of every sexual desire. Sob crushed by tears. Shout, one great shout from a single mouth. Fist of a single, gigantic arm. Stubborn force of battering rams and catapults.