es kommen haertere tage

Drüben versinkt dir die Geliebte im Sand,
er steigt um ihr wehendes Haar,
er fällt ihr ins Wort,
er befiehlt ihr zu schweigen,
er findet sie sterblich
und willig dem Abschied
nach jeder Umarmung.

Sieh dich nicht um.
Schnür deinen Schuh.
Jag die Hunde zurück.
Wirf die Fische ins Meer.
Lösch die Lupinen!

Es kommen härtere Tage.


(Ingeborg Bachmann)

Over there your love sinks in the sand

It climbs around her waving hair,

it breaks into her words,

it commands her to be still,

it finds her mortal

and willing to part

after every embrace.

Don't turn around.
Lace up your shoe.
Chase back the dogs.
Throw the fish in the sea.
Extinguish the lupins.

Harder days are coming.

when in dreams

住の江の
岸による波
よるさへや
夢の通ひ路
人目よくらむ


The waves are gathered
On the shore of Sumi Bay,
And in the gathered night,
When in dreams I go to you,
I hide from people's eyes.

(Fujiwara no Toshiyuki)

Green Tea Mochi

green tea rice cakes
summer freshness
long since lost

and the bleeding rose has bloomed out of her.

and what is it to be the sister (3)

Haß verbrannte sein Herz, Wollust, da er im grünenden Sommergarten dem schweigenden Kind Gewalt tat, in dem strahlenden sein umnachtetes Antlitz erkannte.


(Trakl)

Soft eyes Soft fingers

A man told her once: a woman caressing her hair while her eyes turn soft means she feels the need to be protected. She laughed. Those men. They think they know everything.

go to sleep My Gentle One

she hasn't come. the image died. there was nothing left to keep it alive. to keep her alive.

The woman who calls herself the Gentle One and who eats every day whilst watching the tall old tree facing her window has exactly twenty-four hours to step out of her wounded self and to place her words beneath this image.

This image is hers, waiting for her.

and what is it to be the sister (2)

Aus blauem Spiegel trat die schmale Gestalt der Schwester und er stürzte wie tot ins Dunkel.


(Georg Trakl)

Din oglinda albastra pasi faptura subtire a surorii si el se prabusi ca mort in intuneric.

From the blue mirror the narrow figure of the sister stepped and he fell as if dead into darkness.

death of the innocent

out of her thin breath

the cup emerged

this transparent moment

in the corrupt air

death of the innocent

For Ana of the Thousand Stars, the silence she's yearning for.

STELĂ TRECĂTOARE - Victor Segalen

În China antică, stelele erau inscripţii în piatră, presărate pe marginea drumurilor, înălţate pe un soclu, către cer, adresându-se peregrinilor necunoscuţi. Stelele orientate spre est vorbesc despre iubire, cele spre nord, despre prietenie.

Nu în pielea ta de piatră, insensibilă, le-ar place-acestor semne să pătrundă, şi nici spre zorii fără gust şi fără formă, ca de amurg, le-ar place, fiind libere, să-ntoarcă faţa.
Si nici pentru un cititor ales, de-ar fi chiar caligraf, plăcere n-ar simţi de-ar fi rostite.

Ci pentru Ea.

Veni-va zi când ea va trece pe aici. Înaltă, dreaptă, stând cu faţa către tine, citească-i ochii vii şi mişcători, cei ocrotiţi de gene-a căror umbră o cunosc;

Măsoare-ncet aceste vorbe cu buzele ei ţesute din carne (al căror gust nu l-am uitat), cu limba ei hrănită de săruturi, cu dinţii-a căror urmă încă-o port;

Cutremure-se ca un suflu – holdă mlădie-n vântul încropit – împrăştiind din sâni şi până la genunchi ritmul firesc al şoldurilor ei – pe care-l ştiu;

Atunci, acest înscris, încălecând pe spaţiu şi dănţuind pe revărsatele-i cadenţe, acest poem, acest dar, acest dor –

Dintr-o dată cojise-va de pe piatra fără suflare, ah! şubredă şi trecătoare – pentru-a se dărui vieţii Ei,

Pentru-a se duce să hălăduiască-n preajmă-i.

(Traducere de Ştefan Aug. Doinaş)

Stèle provisoire - Victor Segalen

Stèle provisoire

Ce n'est point dans ta peau de pierre, insensible, que ceci aimerait à pénétrer ; ce n'est point vers l'aube fade, informe et crépusculaire, que ceci, laissé libre, voudrait s'orienter ;

Ce n'est pas pour un lecteur littéraire, même en faveur d'un calligraphe, que ceci a tant de plaisir à être dit :

Mais pour Elle.

o

Vienne un jour Elle passe par ici. Droite et grande et face à toi, qu'elle lise de ses yeux mouvants et vivants, protégés de cils dont je sais l'ombre ;

Qu'elle mesure ces mots avec des lèvres tissées de chair (dont je n'ai pas perdu le goût) avec sa langue nourrie de baisers, avec ses dents dont voici toujours la trace,

Qu'elle tremble à fleur d'haleine, -- moisson souple sous le vent tiède, -- propageant des seins aux genoux le rythme propre de ses flancs -- que je connais,

o

Alors, ce déduit, enjambant l'espace et dansant sur ses cadences ; ce poème, ce don et ce désir,

Tout d'un coup s'écorchera de ta pierre morte, oh ! précaire et provisoire, -- pour s'abandonner à sa vie,

Pour s'en aller vivre autour d'Elle.

This is the end beautiful friend

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
Ill never look into your eyes...again

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But youll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end

Ophelia by Millais

"she has retreated so far into her madness that she lies motionless and emotionless, oblivious of her doom."
http://www.cazbo.co.uk/ThePainting/Aboutthepainting/AboutthePainting.htm

I am not a painter. and how far could my camera ever take me?

and what is it to be the sister (1)

he said to his sister - the lonely poet - he spoke:

Da ich deine schmalen Hände nahm
Schlugst du leise die runden Augen auf,
Dieses ist lange her.

but I wasn't her. as much as I would have wished to. and my brother still sleeps the sleep of the speechless.

Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, daß
sie nicht an Deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie
hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?


Rilke

I should not speak today

and the roses grow pale and the wine grows bitter and the light grows blind

Das Romantische ist also ein Perspectiv oder vielmehr die Farbe des Glases und die Bestimmung des Gegenstandes durch die Form des Glases.

Romantismul este deci o perspectivă, sau mai degrabă culoarea lentilei şi determinarea obiectului prin forma lentilei. Clemens Brentano, Godwi.

if murasaki hadn't existed

i'd have invented her