i recently got reminded of my past. no, not being a scion of this immortal poet
of german literature who brought us the "parzival
", the "willehalm" and "titurel" plus some few beautiful minnesang poems, but of my own efforts in university to translate, understand, analyse and discover the very few remnants we still possess of the literature from the 12th century.
so, here is a portrait of wolfram from the Cod. Pal. germ. 848, the so called "Große Heidelberger Liederhandschrift (Codex Manesse
)" which has been produced around 1304 in zürich, ordered by one of the wealthiest family from the area and collecting the works of then already famous, but dead poets.
i post this to remind myself that i, when i write poems, am in the tradition of these great artists, not reaching their powerful language, but adding my own little stones to the collection of weighted words that make a language great. being a decendant of this culture that produced as much greatness as it caused atrocities, i feel comfortable that there is a long tradition of things i can believe to be good; that i can relate to those who before me have created beauty and wisdom. as everything, i believe, is not invented by us newcomers, but just altered and adjusted with each new generation that faces the same experiences.
i love tradition as much as i find it necessary to rebel against it.
note: the picture is taken from the wikicommons, so don't worry about copyright & shit.