William Shakespeare: Der Sturm

Zusammenfassung

Shakespeares Komödie Der Sturm mag sich auf den ersten Blick als ein amüsantes aber weniger tiefgründiges Schauspiel präsentieren. Jedoch fungiert sie als Schnittstelle einer Vielzahl von Themen, welche unter anderem auf gesellschafts-, sozial- und expansionspolitischer Ebene der damaligen wie auch der heutigen Zeit kommentiert und interpretiert. Eine Auswahl an Schlüsselthemen soll im Folgenden für Schülerinnen und Schüler relevant und greifbar gemacht werden, um so zu eigener politischer Reflexion und einem Transfer der literarischen Inhalte in die eigene Lebenswelt anzuregen. Dabei wird vor allem versucht, Brücken zu aktuellen Themen und zeitgenössischen Materialien zu schlagen und die Lernenden durch eine große Medienvielfalt auch zum kreativen Selbstwirken zu befähigen.

Anhang

Kate Tempest: What We Came After by

I tell of him that summoned them storms in vengeance, poisoned by the wrath of his remembrance. Him that gave language just to impose a sentence. His name is Prospero, and he prospers by what he knows. Knowledge he keeps for himself and it is used for the bad to enslave and to mystify. Know the language that fills up your mouth is imposition. And subject your ambition to a bootless inquisition.

Prospero was wronged but he survived and grew wise. Fattenend on the books he despised when should have dismissed. That to is, it’s all relative. Madness for those who can’t measure it, sadness for those who seek sedative but gladness for those who know pleasure is all self-constructed, who know how to clutch it.

Look – if by your art you have fevered the skies, you need to let the heat within rise and evaporate. If you’re the type who sees the sea’s tides as against you, you will never navigate – I know. Language is yours to invest with real meaning. Don’t love the oppressor, or trust the oppressor. But don’t begrudge the oppressor or the oppressor’s oppression – coz each has to learn their own lessons.

If all the people were prophets, we’d profit. We were born with the truth but we lost it in logic. So find it. Remind yourself of the timeless. You are the planet that bred you. You are the knowledge that fed you, you are the language that led you, so won it – make it make sense – make it relevant, and never believe that the words of the prophet are not your words to read.

When you hear the quiet voice of vengeance in your ear, that’s when you know that Hell is empty and all the devils are here. When your heart is consumed with regret and with fear, that’s when you know that Hell is empty and all the devils are here. When your tongue can taste shadows and all your friends are shedding tears, that’s when you know that Hell is empty coz all the devils are here. When the boat sails away and you get left on the pier, that’s when you know that Hell is empty coz all the devils are here. When you’re trying to understand but the text isn’t clear, when the demon jumps up, straight rejecting your spear, when the view is so bleak it starts infecting the seer, that’s when you know that Hell is empty, coz all the devils are here.

So, call me Caliban. They gave me language so I could reign down my curses in verses. I’ll take ’em on word for word – I know the worst is I have to watch my good friends getting caught up in circuits. The serpent rehearses his hisses. He makes the valiant vicious. I know now never to waste wishes. So go on then, conjure a storm on the head of your enemy – you will find yourself victim of negative energy. You need to extend your empathy, make yourself sensitive. This island was mine for a home. I was free to make rhyme as I roamed now my mind is alone as I writhe and I moan – I’m the captive of consonants, and I beseech you to be much more confident. We run around nonchalant, dejected and restless, like – oh, we can’t change nothin though, so why should we try? But we can change – we can rampage till we stand strange.

We got our hands chained, clutching at freedom. – you know, the freedom of mean What you say and say it with meaning. You need to change your own mind before you try change the sequence. Live with your energy, not by your reason. This is the last day of my discontented season. No more will I tolerate this greed – it’s demeaning. We’re needing a breeze through the stifling heat of elitist descriptions of what we can reach. They want you to fear it, not to get too near it so they can continue pretending they’re smarter. Sit still though; receive it from self like Siddharta. The past is just what we came after.

When you hear the quiet voice of vengeance in your ear, that’s when you know that Hell is empty and all the devils are here. When your heart is consumed with regret and with fear, that’s when you know that Hell is empty and all the devils are here. When your tongue can taste shadows and all your friends are shedding tears, that’s when you know that Hell is empty coz all the devils are here. When the boat sails away and you get left on the pier, that’s when you know that Hell is empty coz all the devils are here. When you’re trying to understand but the text isn’t clear, when the demon jumps up, straight rejecting your spear, when the view is so bleak it starts infecting the seer, that’s when you know that Hell is empty, coz all the devils are here.

Kate Tempest. 2012. What We Came After. In Everything Speaks in Its Own Way, hrsg. Kate Tempest, 33–34. UK: Zingaro Books.