Yulia Kudryavitskaya 

Übersetzer:in

And we went through my home town
almost silently, he said nothing, as though everything
had to remain unsaid, hot whisper
lingered on that summer day,
no tree cast a shadow, no tunnel,
he removed my hand from
his hip and inquired about the location
of von Loudon's grave – I guess, he
no longer wanted to go farther,
my father.

In the beginning was
the word for a berth. Farther
from the name
and still indistinguishable
from the stench – spirit
as movement! – of nature.
Close to the puzzle,
which is
a solution. The grinding
of a continent, one or another.
The rumbling of the sea.
The throbbing where
the blood comes from. Where
the Yes!-body appears. And,
like in a fairy-tale...
The mirror on the wall.
And rage. Beauty in the eye
of a bystander.