This rather eerie poem by the German poet Stefan George (1868-1933), written in the guise of a folk-ballad, appears to be an ironic riposte to an earlier poem by Friedrich Schiller. The Schiller poem describes an angelic presence that comes to a village and spreads sweetness and light all round, dishing out flowers to all, the best flowers being reserved for lovers. George’s visitor by contrast is a mysterious and sinister witch, feared by all, who brings only disruption to the community.

It’s a remarkably dense, allusive poem with each element carefully selected to create an atmosphere of disturbing and challenging otherness. I read it as being primarily about the way in which outsiders can be viewed as unsettling presences in closed communities, giving rise to all kinds of fearful and contradictory legends, but at the same time leaving a legacy that must be addressed. The word ‘pfand’ is important here: it can mean ‘pledge but in Germanic folklore can also refer to the token or ambiguous gift that a supernatural being leaves behind when it vanishes, such as a changeling or, in this case, an illegitimate child of unknown parentage.

The theme of the outsider is common in George’s work, and one interpretation sees the mysterious woman as the poet himself, the archetypal outsider, disturbing the community with his truth-telling, and leaving when he goes an unsettling legacy in the form of the poem.

Sadly some of George’s nationalistic ideas were misappropriated by the Nazis, who tried to present him as prophet of the Third Reich. George had nothing but contempt for the Nazi regime and declined all their advances.

Note that normally, of course, German nouns have capital letters, but for whatever reason George eschewed this convention.

The translation that follows is my own.

Notes:

attich, an old word for dwarf elder and ranunkel, buttercup, are both plants associated with magical lore. The dwarf elder is liminal, associated with death and thresholds; the buttercup represents life, brightness and beauty, and the combination is mirrored in the final verse where the child is at once black and white.

hornungschein. This presents one with an untranslatable play on words: Hornung is an old German word for a bastard (etymologically one conceived in a corner), and also an obsolete term for the month of February, in folklore an ill-starred month of cold and misfortune.

Die Fremde

Sie kam allein aus fernen gauen
Ihr haus umging das Volk mit grauen
Sie sott und buk und sagte wahr
Sie sang im mond mit offenem haar.

Am kirchtag trug sie bunten staat
Damit sie oft zur luke trat..
Dann ward ihr lächeln süss und herb
Gatten und brüdern zum verderb.

Und übers jahr als sie im dunkel
Einst attich suchte und ranunkel
Da sah man wie sie sank im torf –
Und andere schwuren dass vorm dorf

Sie auf dem mitten weg verschwand..
Sie liess das knäblein nur als pfand
So schwarz wie nacht so bleich wie lein
Das sie gebar im hornungschein.

Stefan George

The Stranger

She came from far off shires, alone,
The people passed her house in dread
She told men’s fortunes, baked and brewed
She sang by moonlight, bare of head

On church days in her Sunday best
Stood at her window she’d beguile
The village menfolk passing by
So sweet, so bitter was her smile.

And at the year’s end, in the dark,
Some saw her sink into the peat
As she sought herbs, but others swore
They saw her walking down the street

And leaving, as she disappeared,
The little boy for only boon,
As black as night, as linen pale,
She bore beneath a bastard moon.