Ludwig Hartinger

 

Ludwig Hartinger

 

(Austria)

 

 

 

The Minnow’s Word

 

in the depths of memory

windows beyond experience

the nearness of language

a hand’s invisible touch

 

the Sea of Stones drank

dark clouds all day  white

trails through sky clearings

and a voice’s echo in the eyes

 

the reed also needs the

rain  night conceals lost

words  on a balcony

the first white butterfly

 

the willow divined for you

at the steps  the splash of a wave

every change you feel

has its own night

(hide the day under a white hood.)

 

a May cricket  chirped all night  in the first cut grass

 

seven solitary benches

persimmons on Godot’s

tree  paper lanterns

in the ringing twilight

 

Karst  you are the stone window

of inscapes  red soil of bitter

dreams  a solitary well

a stone wreath of words

 

Karst ear  can you hear

the wave beneath my steps

the shore’s azure song

in the embrace of the wind

 

zephyr spring zephyr

deepest memory of paths

sun in birch branches

lighten your step

 

I breathe dreams into your day

and at night dawn in your heart

 

and sometimes her gaze

cradles my eyelids

I imagine  on the lips

an echo shimmering still

 

silent falling leaf  take the raindrop with you  down to the roots

 

not far from the bridge

an amber eye anchors

in a pool leaves circle

not all fall into their shadows

 

it trembles and you tremble

when you walk past a fern

autumnal and yet it wears

the dew in the veil of day

 

hide yourself in the palm of

beginning  nearness dreams

you  the scent of unfading

dawn in the darkness

 

an azure sky slumbers in the tree

a ball spins under the waterfall

the child once fell into a tolmun

a little goat into mother’s milk

 

when the snow lies  softly upon the tracks

you thread duration  through the needle eye of words

 

a tangled shoelace  shimmers  in a magpie’s nest

 

autumn falls into the window

summer dust drops from a branch

leave your shadow now

for the Fates to braid

 

it is as if this wind sleeps

inside of you  this quiet

murmur of silver memory

wisps  the diaphanous gaze

 

traces of red earth on

the road and the dance of

cracks  a crooked picture

in the waiting room – alone

 

nightshade nods at the corner.

lift the black sieve from

your eyelids.  a white balloon

pauses above a watering place

 

in the stony heart  a dark shell glimmers  the wave rocks it

 

 

Trans. by Erica Johnson-Debeljak

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ludwig Hartinger, born 1952 at Saalfelden am Steinernem Meer/Austria; word-vagabond, essayist, translater (from french and slovenian), editor; in the editorial staff of the austrian magazine « Literatur und Kritik », editor of the poetry-collection « RanitzDrucke »/Edition Thanhäuser; publishes poems (« Die Schärfe des Halms », Ed. Thanhäuser 2013) and essays; lives in Salzburg/Austria and the slovenian karst-region.

more: www.literaturnetz.at

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