Ashes for Breakfast: Selected Poems
Durs Grünbein, Michael Hofmann
Born in Dresden in 1962, Durs Grünbein is the main major and profitable poet to emerge from the previous East Germany, a spot the place, he wrote, "the most sensible shelter used to be a closed mouth." In unsettling, usually humorous, occasionally savage strains whose bright pictures replicate his deep love for and reference to the visible arts, Grunbein is reinventing German poetry and taking up the main urgent ethical issues of his new release. Brilliantly edited and translated by way of the English poet Michael Hofmann, Ashes for Breakfast expertly introduces Germany's so much hugely acclaimed modern poet to American readers.
Lang, kehrte er um, Lautréamont der Skorpion. Sein Epos vom Guten blieb ein frommer Entwurf. Baudelaire, mit stumpfer Klinge zum Selbstmord bereit Beim Erscheinen der ersten großformatigen Zeitung, Glaubte das Ende der Dichtung nah, nicht zum letzten Mal. MEMORANDUM every thing keeps a lot as ahead of, particularly the battle, but additionally the day-by-day dressing and undressing. The left and correct part Of the physique remained conjoined, and there’s nonetheless that chasm among mirrored image and self. and other people.
Haben’s geschafft.‹ In den Augen, vom Licht aufgestemmt, reibt es wie nasser Sand. Der Fahrer nestelt am Rosenkranz. Du siehst nur die Bahren In den Schaufenstern, Trödel, hinter gelben Gardinen, gerafft. Dann beginnst du zu zählen. Die Finger an jeder Hand Reichen nicht aus — so viele Bestattungsfirmen gibt es entlang Der Strecke von der Haustür zum Bahnhof. Schamlos ihr Werben, Schwarz auf weiß, um die Toten von morgen, in harten Sätzen. Alles ist rechtwinklig hier. Kreuze und Gitter.
Heroes within the parks, All this and masses extra, from that you wish to evade your gaze— good, it promises pause. This, then, swollen to metropolitan dimensions, Is what it appears like, where the place they buried god like a puppy. Arcadia, celestial cemetery, a version for each urban the place loss of life comes and is going, and existence stutters on privatized astroturf. omit your idylls, your panorama of the blest, your bucolic reservations. regardless of the shepherds sang, or tourists dreamed— This here’s the.
Heroes within the parks, All this and lots more and plenty extra, from that you wish to steer clear of your gaze— good, it provides pause. This, then, swollen to metropolitan dimensions, Is what it seems like, where the place they buried god like a puppy. Arcadia, celestial cemetery, a version for each urban the place demise comes and is going, and lifestyles stutters on privatized astroturf. overlook your idylls, your panorama of the blest, your bucolic reservations. regardless of the shepherds sang, or tourists dreamed— This here’s the.
whilst I heard speedy respiring from one other cubicle and an accelerating thumping without warning my center skipped a beat and that i was once alarmed as a whole swarm of blowflies on the love of 2 males silently belaboring each other sweating and oblivious like unusual centaurlike creatures on an overexposed photo. not easy to overlook the comfort with which, with clean combed hair pink faces and creamy complexions they individually walked prior me and basically a wink (a wink that went via me) guaranteed.