Saturday 20 June 2020

Klaus Høeck: 'Metamorphoses' (1983)

  The sea really does have a smell of pure
     linen and thus of winding sheets. The
     sea tastes like crayfish with a cross on their
Backs. The sea is bitter with ivy berries.
The sea is salt of sodium chloride.
     The sea is like a requiem for Shelley.
     And on the outer edge of thought the ship
Of your own ideas also capsizes.
The sea raises its poisonous hemlocks
     of foam among the breakwaters.
The sea feeds on the mercury of mirrors.
     The sea invites us to incest and
Suicide. The sea is the mean propor
     tional of death and of love.

This is a poem from 'Metamorphoses'. To see a translation of the whole collection, go to here

No comments: