Chapter 25 Nellie Sachs

Nellie Sachs (1891-1970) German-Swedish poetess. In 1966, he won the Nobel Prize for Literature. forget!in the skin The new skin that grows is still a scar Shroud of the Dying white sleeping man take home lent again countless times in the blood on the last ground The fog horn sounded again drowned sailor hums or on a dusty country road Stretch out of the maze of longing footprints Like a crushed snail shell a void— twilight hides Merle's music dance of death Stems in the wind— Translated by Wu Di and Li Li on the shaking heads of mothers The Flourishing of Shepherds bloom again in the night sky

In the warm dreams of children Sing to the heavens the eternal change. Since heaven was lit, The homeless years are wandering Scattered randomly by the hourglass of dust Now at the children's beds it flashes brilliantly again The fresh green leaves in the last winter. Translated by Wu Di and Li Li We, the saved souls, Death makes a flute out of his shriveled body, Death makes strings out of sinews. transformation of music Fill us with resentment. We, the saved souls, The lasso dangles before us, They hang, waiting for our necks. Our blood pours into the clock. We, the saved souls,

Horrible parasites are always sucking on us, Our fate is buried deep in the earth. We, the saved souls, I pray that you: Slowly show us your light. Let us learn to live again. Leading us step by step from star to star. Normally I could hear birds chirping, well filled bucket leaked our secret pain, and calm our wrath. I pray that you: Don't make us watch mad dogs bite people. we will, this will turn to dust, Falling apart before your eyes. What keeps us from wanting to move? We, the voiceless ones, We were saved long ago, out of that midnight hour, The Noah's Ark in front of us rescued our group of creatures.

We, the saved souls, We hold your hand, We recognize the look in your eyes. Only parting makes us hug closer, How close we are to you, The feeling of parting in this world. Translated by Wei Jiaguo run away what a grand reception going on- wrapped in in the wind's shawl trapped in never being able to say amen Feet in Sand Prayer driven out from fin to wing and farther— sick butterfly About to hear the news of the sea again—— This piece engraved with the fly inscription stone Throw yourself into my hands— i hold the whole world Rather than the transformation of a country——

translated by Chen Li I really want to know, What are your dying eyes looking at. Is looking at a stone that has sucked so much Dying eyes, those blind The sight that falls on the blind? Or looking at the dirt, enough dirt to fill a boot, caused so much separation and so much death And the soil that has turned black? Or watching your last way, it conveys to you what you have been Farewell to all roads? Or looking at a puddle, a reflective piece of metal, Perhaps the buckle of your enemy's belt, Or looking at any other little celestial phenomenon? Or look at the earth and let no one

Brought to you by the land that left without having tasted love The astrology of the birds of the air, remind your soul, make it tremble In your burning flesh? Translated by Qian Chunqi