Poem
Durs Grünbein
EXALTATIONS IN SLEEP
How deep we sink when the light goes out
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
EXALTATIES IN JE SLAAP
Hoe diep je zinken kunt, nog maar net is het lichtGedoofd of het gewicht valt van je schouders.
Zo viel het harnas af van de uitgeputte ridder,
Die het lang volhield op het fresco Dodendans.
Hoc corpus meum. Onder de beschutting van de nacht
Is hij in zichzelf verstrikt, in dromen vrij, geboeid.
Van alle staten van leven is de slaap het extreemst,
Want hij pakt je in, overweldigt je en verstrijkt.
Extreem: in je slaap vecht je als Don Quichot
Met je dromen tot het lichaam rust geeft.
In je slaap, hoeveel posities neem je in?
Die van foetus, Gekruisigde, Laocoön, de god Shiva.
Stijf op m’n rug gelegen overvalt het me –
‘Een tapir was ik, aan de oevers ooit van de Orinoco.’
EXALTATIONEN IM SCHLAF
Wie tief man sinken kann, kaum ist das LichtGelöscht und von den Schultern fällt die Schwere.
So fiel die Rüstung ab von dem erschöpften Ritter,
Der lange mithielt auf dem Fresko Totentanz.
Hoc corpus meum. Unterm Schutz der Nacht
Ist er verstrickt in sich, in Träumen frei, gefesselt.
Von allen Lebenslagen die extremste ist der Schlaf,
Der einen einhüllt, überwältigt und vorübergeht.
Extrem: im Schlaf kämpft man wie Don Quichote
Mit seinen Träumen bis der Körper Ruhe gibt.
Im Schlaf, wieviele Positionen nimmt man ein?
Den Fötus, den Gekreuzigten, Laokoon, Gott Shiva.
Steif auf dem Rücken liegend, überfällt es mich –
»Ein Tapir war ich, an den Ufern einst des Orinoco.«
From: Strophen für übermorgen
Publisher: Suhrkamp Verlag, Berlin
Publisher: Suhrkamp Verlag, Berlin
Poems
Poems of Durs Grünbein
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EXALTATIONS IN SLEEP
How deep we sink when the light goes out
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
From: Strophen für übermorgen
EXALTATIONS IN SLEEP
How deep we sink when the light goes out
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
Like that the armour that fell from the weary knight,
who’d fought so long in the danse macabre.
Hoc corpus meum. Under cover of night
he’s caught up in himself, free in dreams, chained.
Of all life’s states the most extreme is sleep,
it envelops, overwhelms, leaves us behind.
Extreme: in sleep we struggle with our dreams,
like Don Quixote, until the body finds its rest.
In sleep, how many positions do we assume?
the foetus, the crucified, Laocoön, Holy Shiva.
Lying stiffly on my back, it comes to me –
‘Once I was a tapir, on the banks of the Orinoco’.
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