Friday, 4 May 2012

barbara korun


to Christian Bobin

Language – river, pool under shade of spruce.
I lie on the bottom, on sand, the water
laving me. I look at it, I look through it
at sun and at shadow.
It cools me, it soothes and I saddens.
Language like water, to make cool.
The body, as Bobin says, made light,
the soul burned to transparency –
just so. This takes my breath away,
it’s all too big, too much…
I nurse, I absorb, I knead sweetness
into the soul’s body. He strokes my hair,
my face, my breasts, spills gently
across my hips like a spreading palm.
Language – words, rhythms, pulse of the heart.

trans by theo dorgan

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