Erich Fried was an Austrian-born poet, writer and translator of Jewish descent. He initially became known to a broader public in both Germany and Austria for his political poetry, and later for his love poems. As a writer he mostly wrote plays and short novels. He also translated works by different English writers from English into German, most notably works by William Shakespeare.
He was born in Vienna, Austria but fled to England after the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany in 1938. He settled in London and adopted British Nationality in 1949. His first official visit back to Vienna was in 1962.
During the war, he did casual work as a librarian and a factory hand. He arranged also for his mother to leave Nazi occupied Austria, as well as helping many other Jews to come to the UK. He joined Young Austria, a left-wing emigrant youth movement, but left in 1943 in protest at its growing Stalinist tendencies.
From 1952 to 1968 he worked as a political commentator for the BBC German Service. He translated works by Shakespeare, T. S. Eliot and Dylan Thomas, and Sylvia Plath.
He published several volumes of poetry as well as radio plays and a novel. His work was sometimes controversial, including attacks on the Zionist movement and support for left-wing causes. His work was mainly published in the West, but in 1969, a selection of his poetry was published in the GDR poetry series Poesiealbum, and his Dylan Thomas translations were published in that same series in 1974. The composer Hans Werner Henze set two of Fried's poems for his song-cycle Voices (1973).
In 1982 he regained his Austrian nationality, though he also retained the British nationality he had adopted in 1949. He died of intestinal cancer in Baden-Baden, West Germany, in 1988 and is buried in Kensal Green cemetery, London.
An Austrian literary prize is named after him - the Erich Fried Prize.
Wahrscheinlich hat "Widerstand" meine Erwartungen schon zu hoch gesetzt und vielleicht hat Liebe momentan nicht so sehr zu mir gepasst, deshalb gibt es leider nur 3 Sterne. Freue mich trotzdem die Gedichte nochmal zu lesen, denn das werde ich bestimmt :)
As a German, I had the arrogant superstition that I knew the great pieces of poetry in German- funny enough that I was proven wrong by a Scottish friend so far from home.
Fried's verses are somewhere between obsessive in it's ingeniously woven patterns and blunt in the force behind his feelings.
'Love poems, isn't it always the same?' some of the less-hopelessly-romantic might sigh. Fried is not one of your house-and-garden romanticists, no, he manages to present 'love' in a unique style of disappointed realism, inevitability and rejected doom, irrevocable intensity and sometimes highest passion, sometimes numbness of grieve...
The poems are rather short, so even if you' re not a German star, you can enjoy it and get lost in some beautiful verses!