Ich träume so leise von dir,
Weiß hängt die Seide schon über meinen Augen.

Warum hast du nicht um mich

Die Erde gelassen -- sage?

Else Lasker-Schüler

I dream so quietly of you,
White hangs the silk already over my eyes.

Why did you not put aside the earth
for me -- say?

tired gold, tired blood

in the cage of time

en la jaula del tiempo
la dormida mira sus ojos solos
el viento le trae
la tenue respuesta de las hojas.



Alejandra Pizarnik
(Árbol de Diana)

in the cage of time
the sleeper looks into her lonely eyes
wind bringing to her
the faint response of shaking leaves.


from The Tree of Diana
tr. Zachary Jean Chartkoff

the blue turtle's journey through her golden dreams

Requiem for D

a step of light.
the threshold between this thought exactly
and the next.
a black tulip's longing for you
to become again.
filled with time, as only the beautiful dead
can be, your back turned to us,
the ever praying ones.
why do you cry, when you can rain
you said, tearing
through unknown layers of pain.

your body, this field of may.
i walk through the cold dew
sit down for a while
gather flowers in the folds of my dress,
their heads bending toward the sky.
look, i said to the Painter,
it's like this that she moves her arms
in the sea of blue paleness.

your soul, the white bird of trembling,
the dark bird of knowing.
you have come for the seeds of speech,
the worms you had planted in the Poet's mouth
even before you left.

those questions

blinded by my colours
will you ever know
my flesh of night

.
.

those words

As I work to sharpen my knife,
kindly stop fidgeting and listen to
how much you'll enjoy being carved up.

You'll also rejoice in the knowledge
of the house your bones will make sturdy
and the bountiful lush garden
we'll be able to grow with your blood.

I know, you cannot picture it now,
but I've helped colleagues who have done it
and I'm pretty sure you can trust me
to get it right from the very first try.

I've observed and carefully noted
how we must start with the tongue -
we wouldn't want those words you don't mean
to hang about the house like mad rats.


Lecture, by Manuela

reading Kafka, a not-so-hermetic screenplay for autumn nights

inspired by Prospero's last comment
(and secretely dedicated to him, the music-omniscient one)

(please excuse the poor quality of the compression - alas, what can i do, unfortunately the Bridge, albeit miraculously still floating, is not enhanced with such awesome technical abilities)


update:
it seems that for some readers the screenplay was indeed hermetic, in spite of my intentions, because the clip didn't work. if you cannot watch the slideshow, but you are keen on seeing it anyway (completely futile for the ones who have already reached satori while contemplating the white rectangle :-), try going here