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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=412475" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Psalm</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be silent with me, as all bels are silent!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the afterbirth of terror<br>the rabble grovles for new nourishment.<br>On Good Friday a hand hangs on display<br>in the firmament, tow fingers missing,<br>and it cannot swear that all of it,<br>all of it didn't happen, and nothing<br>ever will. It dives into red clouds,<br>whisks off the new murderers<br>and goes free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each night on this earth<br>open the windows, fold back the sheets<br>so that the invalid's secret lies naked,<br>a sore full of sustenace, endless pain<br>for every taste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gloved butchers cease<br>the breath of the naked;<br>the moon in the doorway falls to earth;<br>let the shards lie, the handle ....</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All was prepared for the last rites.<br>(The sacrament cannot be completed.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How vain it all is.<br>Roll into a city,<br>rise from the city's dust,<br>take over a post<br>and diguise yourself<br>to avoid exposure</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fulfill the promises<br>before a tarnished mirror in the air,<br>before a shut door in the wind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Untraveled are the paths on the steep slope of heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O eyes, scorched by th Earth's reservoir of sun,<br>weighted with the rain of all eyes,<br>and now absorbed, interwoven<br>by the tragic spiders<br>of the present ...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>4</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the hollow of my muteness<br>lay a word<br>and grow tall forests on both sides,<br>such that my mouth<br>lies wholly in shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">tranlated by Peter Filkins</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Songs from an Island<br>Ingeborg Bachmann</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shadow fruit is falling from the walls,<br>moonlight bathes the house in white, and the ash<br>of extinct craters is borne in by the sea winnd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the embrace of handsome youths<br>the coasts are sleeping.<br>Your flesh remembers mine,<br>it was already inclined to me,<br>when the ships<br>loosened themselves from shore and the cross<br>of our mortal burden<br>kept watch in the rigging.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now the execution sites are empty,<br>they search but cannot find us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When you rise from the dead,<br>when I rise fromt the dead,<br>no stone will lie before the gate,<br>no boat will rest on the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tomorrow the casks will roll<br>toward Sunday waves,<br>we come on anointed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">soles to the shore, wash<br>the grapes and stamp<br>the harvest into wine,<br>tomorrow, on the shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When you rise from the dead,<br>when I rise from the dead,<br>the hangman will hang at the gate,<br>the hammer will sink into the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day the feast must come!<br>Saint Anthony, you who have suffered,<br>Saint Leonard, you who have suffered,<br>Saint Vitus, you who have suffered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Make way for our prayers, way fro the worshippers,<br>room for music and joy!<br>We have learned simplicity,<br>we sing in the choir of cicadas,<br>we eat and drink,<br>the lean cats<br>rub against our table,<br>until evening mass begins<br>I hold your hand<br>with my eyes,<br>and a quiet, brave heart<br>sacrifices its wishes to you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Honey and nuts for the childern,<br>teeming nets for the fishermen,<br>fertility for the gradens,<br>moon for the volcano, moon for the volcano!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our sparks leapt over the borders,<br>above the night fireworks fanned their<br>tails, the procession<br>floats away on dark rafts and gives<br>time to the primeval world,<br>to the plodding lizards,<br>to the carnivorous plant,<br>to the feverish fish,<br>to the orgies of wind and the lust<br>of mountains where a pious<br>star loses its way, collides with their face<br>and dissolves into dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stand firm, you follish saints.<br>Tell the mainland the craters aren't resting!<br>Saint Roch, you who have suffered,<br>oh you who have suffered, Saint Francis.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When someone departs he must throw his hat,<br>filled with the mussels he spent the summer<br>gathering, in the sea<br>and sail off with his hair in the wind,<br>he must hurl the table,<br>set for his love, in the sea,<br>he must pour the wine,<br>left in his glass, into the sea,<br>he must give his bread to the fish<br>and mix a dropp of his blood with the sea,<br>he must drive his knife deep into the waves<br>and sink his shoes,<br>heart, anchor and cross,<br>and sail off with his hair in the wind.<br>Then he will return.<br>When?<br>Do not ask.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is fire under the earth,<br>and the fire is pure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is fire under the eart<br>and molten rock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a torrent under the earth,<br>it will stream into us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a torrent under the earth.<br>it will scorch our bones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A great fire is coming,<br>a torrent is coming over the earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We shall be witnesses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ingeborg+Bachmann">Ingeborg Bachmann</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=412475" data-title="Psalm de Ingeborg Bachmann" data-description="1 Be silent with me, as all bels are silent! In the afterbirth of terror the rabble grovles for new nourishment. On Good Friday a hand hangs on display in the firmament, tow fingers missing, and it cannot swear that all of it, all of it didn't h..."></div> </div> </div>
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