Joseph von Eichendorff (1788–1857)

A very slight book, more a novella or even a long short story, that reminded me of Candide a little. The book was published in 1826 and is considered a masterpiece of German romanticism. A young man rejects his father’s trade and life and embarks on a (brief) life of wanderlust, seeking love and fulfillment. He, of course, finds them both, but not easily. The writing is good, the story very lighthearted: our hero falls into a job as gardener at a Viennese palace where he falls in love with the duke's daughter. Because she is therefore unattainable, and because his wanderlust is so strong, he flees to Italy, only to eventually discover that she is only adopted and thus, in fact, attainable. Indeed, at points, the story distinctly reminded me of Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” (among other plays). Nature plays a strong supporting role and the carefree young man, portrayed as both uncomplicated and naïve, is impossible to dislike. The book is also well-known for including many brief poems and lyrics by Eichendorff, who was highly regarded for his poetry.… (més)

... e nei villaggi attorno cantavano festosamente i galli per i campi di grano lievemente ondeggianti, e nelle scie di luce mattutina passavano volando alto nel cielo le allodole solitarie gia' sveglie di cosi' buon mattino, e il postilgione prendeva il suo corno e riprendeva la via e soffiava soffiava... io restavo li' immobile per un lungo tempo a inseguire con gli occhi la carrozza, mi pareva di andarmene subito subito con essa, lontano lontano, nel mondo. (42)

Quando gli alberi bisbigliano su i monti, pei laghi che stanno nel chiaro del sole, quando tepide piogge cadon frusciando, m'e' gioia di pormi in ascolto. (149)

Nel bosco presso Lubowitz.
O valli larghe, o cime, o bella o verde selva, tu delle gioie mie, tu delle pene mie fervida pia dimora! La' fuori, nel dolo perpetuo freme il mondo e nell'affanno; anco una volta stendimi le arcate tue d'attorno, tu, verde padiglione! (152)… (més)

Maybe I'm a total Philistine and am missing something...maybe (surely there HAS to be??) a deeper hidden meaning. It looked readable...wanderings of a young man who finds love...a German classic.
It is, in my opinion, utterly unreadable rot. The hopeful beginning, where our idle youth leaves home with his violin for fun and freedom promised much.
But it then morphs into a ridiculous dream-like sequence, where anything is possible. Madmen, disappearing painters, murder... It all began to wash over me, and making it through to p 121 was an achievement. Total drivel.… (més)