by Ingeborg Bachmann
Drunk evening full of blue light
staggers to the window and desires to sing.
The discs crowd timidly and tightly,
in which his shadows got caught.
He sways, darkening, around the sea of ??houses,
meets a child to chase it away screaming,
and breathes gasping behind everything,
Saying scary things in whispers.
In the damp courtyard at the dark edge of the wall
he cavorts with rats in the corners.
A woman in a gray worn robe,
backs away from him to hide deeper.
A thin thread still runs at the well,
a drop runs to catch the other,
there he drinks abruptly from a rusty slimy hole
and helps wash down the black gutters.
Drunk evening full of blue light
staggers into the window and begins to sing.
The discs break. Bleeding in the face
he enters to wrestle with my horror.
Last updated October 31, 2022