You can read the introductory part here.
I
Icelight melts, but the warmth
Doesn’t warm, just more
Darkwater in the lake. The shores
Are words, the telephones
Dead devices flickering
On and off like candles
In cemeteries.
II
Awoken, exhausted by the run
Through the night that is not yet
Over. The standby light
Takes the place of the star. From no
Where you look at me, from no
Where you come. The lilacs bloom,
The birds fly up, as if
They were following the promises
That kept themselves in sleep.
III
Mourning is madness. I
Turn on the recorder
And listen to the snoring
Of the dead. Heavy breath,
Recorded on April first.
It was warm island air.
The tides still had no
History, the springtime blossomed
Into the future. The
Returning rattle
Now makes my own heart
Race. No solace.
IV
No joy in the company
Of trees that change their
Colours. In my hand a
Single maple leaf, I watch the
Women carrying candles,
Rummaging in their pockets for lighters.
Death wears green, he knows
No times, just you and
Me in the grass. And tries out
Spring in the dark.
V
Half a home, half a
Room, half a life:
Unalleviated love. Where’s this hand
Supposed to go, why are the curtains holding
Still?
Translated by Geoffrey C. Howes
Author
Sabine Gruber
, born 1963 in Meran (South Tyrol, Italy), grew up in Lana. After teaching German in Venice she became an acclaimed writer. Her work includes novels, poems, and essays. In 2016 her latest novel, Daldossi oder Das Leben des Augenblicks, was published by C.H. Beck and shortlisted for the Austrian Book Prize. Sabine Gruber lives in Vienna.
Photo (c) Peter Eickhoff