… und auch dies wahr, unglücklicherweise
Outside the street’s on fire
In a real death waltz
Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy
And the poets down here
Don’t write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland
Bruce Springsteen, Jungleland
… erschreckend-verstörend treffsicher:
Rast
Wir machten rast im städtchen der wirt
ließ den tisch in den garten tragen der erste stern
ging auf und erlosch wir brachen das brot
man hörte heimchen zirpen in den dosten des abends
und weinen doch weinen des kindes dazu die geschäftigkeit
von insekten menschen gesten geruch der erdedie mit dem rücken zur mauer saßen
sahen – lilafarben jetzt – den hügel der galgen
den dichten efeu der exekution am gemäuerwir assen viel
wie immer wenn niemand zahlt
Zbigniew Herbert.
Aus: Inschrift, übersetzt von Karl Dedecius, Suhrkamp 1973.
Fragen Stellen ähnelt dem Jüngsten Gericht
“And you never asked about the—place with the door?” said Mr. Utterson.
“No, sir: I had a delicacy,” was the reply. “I feel very strongly about putting questions; it partakes too much of the style of the day of judgment. You start a question, and it’s like starting a stone. You sit quietly on the top of a hill; and away the stone goes, starting others; and presently some bland old bird (the last you would have thought of) is knocked on the head in his own back-garden and the family have to change their name. No, sir, I make it a rule of mine: the more it looks like Queer Street, the less I ask.”
“A very good rule, too,” said the lawyer.
Robert Louis Stevenson: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,
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