The poem
Four Translations
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense. Lay your shadow on the sundials and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them to ripeness, and chase the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore. Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time, will stay up, read, write long letters, and wander the avenues, up and down, restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
Translated by Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann, "The Essential Rilke" (Ecco)
Lord, it is time. The summer was too long. Lay your shadow on the sundials now, and through the meadow let the winds throng.
Ask the last fruits to ripen on the vine; give them further two more summer days to bring about perfection and to raise the final sweetness in the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will establish none, whoever lives alone now will live on long alone, will waken, read, and write long letters, wander up and down the barren paths the parks expose when the leaves are blown.
Translated by William Gass, "Reading Rilke: Reflections on the Problem of Translation" (Knopf)
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by. Now overlap the sundials with your shadows, and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine; grant them a few more warm transparent days, urge them on to fulfillment then, and press the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone, will sit, read, write long letters through the evening, and wander the boulevards, up and down, restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell, "The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke" (Random House)
Lord, it is time now, for the summer has gone on and gone on. Lay your shadow along the sun- dials and in the field let the great wind blow free. Command the last fruit be ripe: let it bow down the vine -- with perhaps two sun-warm days more to force the last sweetness in the heavy wine.
He who has no home will not build one now. He who is alone will stay long alone, will wake up, read, write long letters,
and walk in the streets, walk by in the streets when the leaves blow.
Translated by John Logan, "Homage to Rainer Maria Rilke," (BOA Editions)
Original German
Herbsttag
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gross. Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren, und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.
Befiehl den letzten Fruchten voll zu sein; gieb innen noch zwei sudlichere Tage, drange sie zur Vollendung hin und jage die letzte Susse in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr. Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben, wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben und wird in den Alleen hin und her unruhig wandern, wenn die Blatter treiben.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke, Paris, Sept. 21, 1902
Translation
Autumn
Lord, it is time. The summer was so very big.
Put now your shadow on the sundials,
and let the winds be loosened on the open fields.
Command the last fruits to be full;
Give two them two more southerly days
Advance them toward fullness and completion
And let the final sweetness
Charge the heavy grapes.
Whoever has no house, no longer builds one.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time.
Will stay up late, will read, will write long letters
And in the alleys back and forth
Wander restlessly with the drifting leaves.
Autumn - paraphrase
Lord, it's time / The summer was so very big /
Put your shadow on the sundials /
and let the winds be loosened on the open fields//
Command the last fruits to be full/
Give them two more southerly days/
Advance them toward fullness and completion/
And let the final sweetness
Charge the heavy grapes//
Whoever has no house, no longer builds one/
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time/
Will stay up late, will read, will write long letters/
And in the alleys back and forth/
Restlessly wander with the drifting leaves//
Another translation
My translation (I am not an English native speaker):
Lord, it is time. The summer has been vast.
Please cover the sundials with your shadows
and on the meadows now let slip the blast.
Command the latest fruits to ripen fine.
Let them still have two southerlier days,
force them to gain perfection then and raise
the final sweetness in the heavy wine.
Who has no home now, won't establish one,
His loneliness will long not change for better
He'll wake, he'll read, write letter after letter
and wander in the alleys on and on
among the leaves whom then the winds will scatter.
Autumn Day Poem
Ive taken it from a book where is translated:
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadoes let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on the tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander on the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
rilke
Autumn Day
Lord: it is time. The summer’s run its course.
Upon the sundials now let fall your shadow,
and let the meadows feel the winds’ full force.
Make the last fruits mature upon the vine;
give them the warmth of two more southern days,
force them to consummation and then chase
the final sweetness into heavy wine.
The one now homeless will not build a home.
The one now lonely long will stay that way,
remain awake, read, letter-write all day
and restlessly in avenues will roam
this way and that when caught leaves stir and stray.