Thursday, May 5, 2016

A poem by Günter Eich


And let the snow
come through the door-cracks,
the wind blows, that's his job.

And let Lena be forgotten,
the girl who drank
the spirits from the lamp.

Went into the il-
lustrations of Meyer's Lexicon,
Brehm's Wildlife.

Intestines, mountainranges, beach carrion,
and let the snow
come through the door-cracks

up to the bed, up to the spleen,
where the memory sits,
where Lena sits,

the leopard, the feverish gull,
arithmetic puzzles in yellow
wrappers, by subscription.

And let the wind blow
because that's all he can do
and don't begrudge Lena

one more swig from the lamp
and let the snow
come through the door-cracks.

--Günter Eich
translated by David Young

Copyright c 1981 by Oberlin College. May not be reproduced without permission.