Hans Sachs, and his visit to Schlaraffenland

The Poem written by Hans Sachs in the early 16th century, Schlareffenland is a comical  tale of the Fool's Paradise. A land of opposites where losing was winning, and your dreams came true.   Replete with sharp sarcasm, and criticism, but with a moral ending, this farcical tale probably achieved what it set out to do.   Sachs was a man of many talents; a shoe maker by trade, he was like a wandering scholar. A Master Singer of Nüremberg, with a knowledge of the fencing arts during the early 16th century.    His countless Master songs, and poems all revealed his worldly sense.

In fabulous Schlareffenland The Sluggards sit in full command. It lies three leagues past Christmas Day; And he who'd go must eat his way (Digging a tunnel like a mole) Through hills of porridge, to his goal. But once he does, with breeches tight, He'll belch at all the wealth in sight: There peaked roofs are Pancake-shingled, Walls and halls are solid Cake, Porches Pork, and ceilings Steak; Stout Sausage strings, all crisp and brown, Are strung for fences in the town. From every well you crank up Wine; Malmsey and Mulberry and Rhine; The hemlock trees are hung with Scones, Buttered well and shaped like cones; The pine produces Pies forsooth, The dogwood - Doughnuts. It's God's truth! The willows bend with Rolls and Bread By waters that run Milk instead; And all streams teem with toothsome Fish Fried, baked, roasted, as you wish; In fact they swim so close to land You reach and catch them with your hand. Roast Chickens, Geese and Pigeons go Flying within reach, and slow: And when the birds are winging South Just gape - they'll fly into your mouth! The Hogs you meet on every side Are sleek and fat and crisply fried: They carry knives - it's very nice - And stand by while you carve your slice! The very horses drop - poached Eggs! And Figs pile up by donkey's legs; For Fruit you never climb a tree: Cherries hang down to each man's knee. The Fount of Youth flows down past benches Filled with oldsters mad for wenches; For others there's the target shoot, Where he who misses gets the loot. The last man wins in every race, And being first is a disgrace. Thus if you loose while rolling dice The winning player pays you twice; If you owe money past one year, The lender pays you back I hear. A whpping Fib is worth a crown: Great Liars gather great renown; Whereas the man with honest wit Provokes the populace to spit. There is no place in all the land For anyone who works by hand, And he who calls for Trust and Order Is promptly shooed across the border. But any good-for-nothing Ass Is honored as a man of class; The laziest lout is crowned the King, The Boor becomes an Atheling; The Poltroon, all afraid to fight, Is promptly dubbed a gallant Knight. If you have hugely drunk and whored You're promptly honored as a Lord; And every kind of Rotter can Announce himself a Nobleman. Are you like that? Alack-a-day! Go to Schlaraffenland and stay! To warn my hearers this was writ; Now go and do the opposite! Not greedy, gross, nor lazy be, And shun my friends, iniquity; Be diligent, and work, and pray, For laziness will never pay. (Translation by Hans Hinrichs)

Ein gegent heißt schlauraffenlant,
den faulen leuten wol bekant,
das ligt drei meil hinter weihnachten,
und welcher darein wölle trachten,
der muß sich großer ding vermeßen
und durch ein berg mit hirßbrei eßen,
der ist wol dreier meilen dick;
alsdann ist er im augenblick
in demselbing schlauraffenlant,
da aller reichtum ist bekant.

da sint die heuser deckt mit fladen,
leckkuchen die haustür und laden,

von speckkuchen dillen und went,
die dröm von schweinen braten sent.

umb jedes haus so ist ein zaun
geflochten von bratwürsten braun,
von malvasier so sint die brunnen,
kommen eim selbs ins maul gerunnen;
auf den tannen wachsen die krapfen,
wie hie zu lande die tannzapfen,

. . .

für ein groß lüg gibt man ein kron;
doch muß sich da hüten ein man,
aller vernunft ganz müßig gan;
wer sin und witz gebrauchen wolt,
dem würt kein mensch im lande holt,

und wer gern arbeit mit der hant,
dem verbeut mans schlauraffenlant;
wer zucht und erbarkeit het lieb,
denselben man des lants vertrieb;

wer unnütz ist, wil nichts nit lern,
der komt im lant zu großen ern,
wan wer der faulest wirt erkant,
derselb ist könig in dem lant,
wer wüst, wild und unsinnig ist,
grob, unverstanden alle frist,
aus dem macht man im lant ein fürstn.
wer geren ficht mit leberwürstn,
aus dem ein ritter wirt gemacht;
wer schlüchtisch ist und nichtsen acht,
dan eßn, trinken und vil schlafn,
aus dem macht man im lant ein grafn;

wer tölpisch ist und nichtsen kan,
der ist im lant ein edelman.

wer also lebt wie obgenant,
der ist gut ins schlauraffenlant,

das von den alten ist erdicht,
zu straf der jugent zugericht,
die gwönlich faul ist und gefreßig,
ungeschickt, heillos und nachleßig,
das mans weis ins lant zu schlauraffn,
darmit ir schlüchtisch weis zu straffn,
das sie haben auf arbeit acht,
weil faule weyß nie gutes bracht.
hans sachs 1520s?