Michael Hofmann

Silence

Silence, coming from within: things past, tender early associations ended by death; also days with table-decorations and fruit-bowls placed between couples of unwavering commitment, two flames.  Silence, from faraway estates, preparations for festivities or homecomings: beating of carpets, on which, later, many pairs of feet will shuffle dotingly and in love.  Silence, once endured and in store for strangers, broken today by a hoarse plea: “stay by me, maybe not all that much longer, too much decay in me, too much heaviness, fatigue.” —Translated by Michael Hofmann This poem appears in the Aug

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Silence

Silence, coming from within: things past, tender early associations ended by death; also days with table-decorations and fruit-bowls placed between couples of unwavering commitment, two flames.  Silence, from faraway estates, preparations for festivities or homecomings: beating of carpets, on which, later, many pairs of feet will shuffle dotingly and in love.  Silence, once endured and in store for strangers, broken today by a hoarse plea: “stay by me, maybe not all that much longer, too much decay in me, too much heaviness, fatigue.” —Translated by Michael Hofmann  

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