Author: Lutz Seiler
Translator: Bradley Schmidt
as if
sinking in, whispering:
you still broadcast from the old wires
between the stations.
you shuffle through conversations
in the leaves, through the voices
rustling, heard
from outside, passing by: so
you pause. the night
begins at the house, hold
your tongue, the silence
in the eyes. as if
you had carefully
written up everything. as if
you had already died
lighting the way home
clear evenings while walking.
the steps, on the gravel,
on your feet once again
the mechanics of the stones
re-emerge.
the pond is called iris lake.
the street: rail road.
the moonsighted algae are asleep
& lamps are
grasped by ivy.
you still do not
know that you exist, yet know
what happens, into the brittle darkness
the house empties
Originals from Lutz Seiler, im felderlatein © Suhrkamp Verlag Berlin 2010
Translations © Bradley Schmidt