Episode 5.01 Simon Dach’s “Written in Bed in The Year 1647…‪”‬ Lucky Words

It’s April again, which means it’s National Poetry Month! The podcast is back, again. My ambitions are much more modest this year, and also moving in different directions.
The excitement, for me at least is that I’m going to be adding in video to the mix. I’ve been learning a lot, and the curve is steep. But it’s been rewarding to become acquainted with an entirely new set of skills.
For today, however, we are going old school: just the audio like always.
I’ve moved my podcast hosting from Squarespace to Substack. Which has been a pain because my brain just shoves both companies into a similar slot of companies with names that start with the letter S and are fake sounding compound words made up of normal words. If all goes well, this won’t affect you at all, the podcast will appear in your podcast player as if nothing has changed. Fingers crossed that it stays that way.
Another thing: I’m only committing to four episodes this year. That’s a massive reduction from what I had attempted in the past, which was to ship an episode daily. But I almost always burned out, and it overtook my life. What with my life being un-overtakable right now, and with the addition of video, I’m just committing to four. Maybe I’ll accomplish more? Let’s see at the end of April.
Because I’ve been out filming and not doing audio only stuff, and because it’s already the fourth and I haven’t posted, this was recorded at my desk (gasp!) instead of on the trail. I don’t plan on this becoming a habit, and I spiced it up with some little bit of royalty-free music. Still, it feels funny to release an episode where… I’m just talking indoors. Kind of lame, honestly.
The text of this episode’s poem is from Simon Dach, a seventeenth century German poet. It’s called “Written in Bed in The Year 1647, at Night, When I Could Not Sleep for Asthma.” Here’s the text:
What? Is it not enough to be willing to die once?
Nature? Fate? God? Why do you hold me back?
There is no delay on my side, my course is finished;
Must I pay you a toll a thousand times for the passage?
How bitter it is to be ready and have to wait!
Is death gain? It is an expensive bargain indeed for me!
So many years and illnesses come together to kill me;
I am still alive, and I've been given up for dead ten times at least.
Wife, children, is it you that are doing this? Are you prolonging my light?
Look at my misery! Is this charity,
Grudging me my benefit for the little benefit to yourselves?
Oh, do not make things worse for me by your presence!
The last pain of all, I think, cannot be worse than having to stay alive,
wanting to be dead, and not being able to die.


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