Theodoros Chiotis (Θεόδωρος Χιώτης)

The body                                             an archipelago
                                                                               
                                                                     [and on the eyes black sleep of night]

        we think        we are asleep
but behind our eyes
        it is the hours that         
are lurking
                    the forked tongue               draws
        a curve                   competing
                                                                                      for         [a] breath
                                                             
     the body a circle
 which                                  transforms into a
halfmoon before
                              its im  
                                                            mer
                                        
                                                 sion in

                                                                 water.

                                                                                                   We think we are asleep
                                                                                                                           we clutch 
                                                                                                   in                    our hands
                                                                                                                  the leaves and 
                                                                                                                      the     lizards
                                                                                                which gather on the bed 
                                                                                                    running up and down 
                                                                                                                     the spine we 
                                                                                            share         with        the boy
                                                                                      taking      pictures incessantly 
                                                                                                                        in front of  
                                                                                                                          the CCTV
                                                                                                                            cameras.


you say:
“I have been up here for                hours            and
I have yet to make the decision to die”,
the space between the fingers               is now a fleshy cobweb

                        wings of a       bat:
the arteries are throbbing
                                   the words locate grids.

      We think we are asleep

      rocks eroded by
the blood sticking to
      the soles of the feet.

We do not know the names
      the hands sink inside the maps
      the holes on the face are covered
by soil
the mouth opens and then shuts  

we proclaim we are unlike others but
when we dream,
         we   are the same
person: we are sharing the same skin:
perhaps we might even be able to do what it is we want
                                                                      [using someone else’s body]:
afterwards we shall simply toss
the carcass aside.

We think we are asleep

      we stick our nose on the screen
playing on a loop a video
                      from the CCTV: it is the    same
face  blue
               dark blue   nearly
black.


Note: The offset quotation in lines 2-3 is from Anne Carson, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho. Vintage Books: New York, 2002.

Der Körper                                           ein Archipel

                                                                   [ὀφθάλμοις δὲ μέλαις νύκτος ἄωρος...]

         wir glauben         zu schlafen
doch in unseren Augen
         lauern
die Stunden
                die gespaltene Zunge           beschreibt
         eine Kurve          die den/der Atem
                                                                           raubt         der Körper ein Kreis

        schmilzt  zum
Halbmond und 
                         ver

                                                      sch  
            
                                   windet im 

                                                                   Wasser.

                                                                                             Wir glauben zu schlafen
                                                                                                      in unseren Händen
                                                                                                                       halten wir
                                                                                                              die Blätter und
                                                                                                           die      Eidechsen
                                                                                 die sich auf dem Bett tummeln
                                                                                                     & auf und ab laufen
                                                                                       entlang der Wirbelsäule die
                                                                      mich     mit      dem Jungen verbindet
                                                                             der fortwährend Fotos      schießt
                                                                                                                                   vor
                                                                                                          den Kameras des
                                                                                    Videoüberwachungssystems.


du sagst:
„Seit          Stunden bin ich jetzt hier oben und kann
mich nicht entschließen zu sterben“,
zwischen den Fingern          Schwimmhäute

                    Flügelschlag    der Fledermäuse:
die Arterien pulsieren
                                         die Wörter verorten sich auf Millimeterpapier.

        Wir glauben zu schlafen 

        Steine schmelzen
durch das an den Sohlen klebende
        Blut.

Wir kennen die Namen nicht
        die Hände tauchen in die Landkarten
        die Gesichtsöffnungen füllen sich
mit Erde
der Mund geht auf und wieder zu

wir sind sicher, andere zu sein, doch
alle träumen wir,
derselbe Mensch
zu sein: wir teilen dieselbe Haut:
vielleicht tun wir dabei sogar, was wir wollen
                                                                                [mit dem Körper des anderen]:
dann lassen wir den Kadaver
verschwinden.

Wir glauben zu schlafen

        wir drücken unsere Nasen am Bildschirm platt
auf dem in Endlosschleife
                eine Aufzeichnung des Videoüberwachungssystems läuft: dasselbe
Gesicht   blau
                  dunkelblau fast
schwarz.


Anmerkung: Das Sappho-Fragment aus Vers 2 stammt aus dem Band Greek Lyric,  Volume 1: Sappho and Alcaeus (Loeb Classical Library No. 142). Hrsg: David A. Campbell (Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA, 1982).