The Night before Christmas

The Night before Christmas (A Visit From St. Nicholas)

Ein Klassiker der amerikanischen Vorweihnacht gefällig? Hier ist er. Dieses Gedicht zählt zweifellos dazu: Ein verschneites Städtchen, eine ruhige, stille Nacht, die davon gestört wird, dass auf der Straße ein kleiner Mann mit rundem Bauch und roter Nase unterwegs ist. Sein Gefährt ist ein Schlitten. Tatsache! Es ist der Weihnachtsmann! Dieses Gedicht ist der Beginn der amerikanischen - und letztendlich auch unserer - Vorstellung vom Weihnachtsmann mit rotem Mantel.

"The Night before Christmas" wurde erstmals 1823 veröffentlicht, damals anonym. Spannend ist die Tatsache, dass dieses Gedicht gleich zwei verschiedenen Dichtern zugeschrieben wird. Zum einen Clement C. Moore,  zum anderen Major Henry Livingston, Jr. Es gibt verschiedene Arbeiten von Literaturwissenschaftlern, die sich mit der Frage beschäftigen, wer von den beiden es nun eigentlich war.

Man findet endlose Neuversionen des Gedichtes, für Katzen (klar, "... not even a mouse"), für Feuerwehrleute, mit vulgären und sexuellen Anspielungen ... wir haben uns für die Ursprungsversion entschieden. Eine der schönsten Variationen des Themas ist sicher der Film von Tim Burton "A Nightmare before Christmas".

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer, and Vixen!
On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixem!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

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