Poem
Jan Wagner
ESSAY ON SOAP
one piece was always nearby,followed its own phases,
diminishing like almost everything does;
then stood again full
and luminously white in its bowl.
weighed like a stone in the fist,
in a froth, it became softer:
one washed oneself from cain into abel.
once it was forgotten, it weathered
into a fissured, asteroid-splinter,
but rests now moist and shiny
like something from the bottom of the lake
that’s been quarried, precious for those seconds,
and we have gathered at the table:
moonless evening, fragrant hands.
VERSUCH ÜBER SEIFE
VERSUCH ÜBER SEIFE
ein stück war immer in der nähe,folgte seinen eigenen phasen,
wurde weniger wie fast alles,
stand dann wieder voll
und leuchtend weiß in seiner schale.
wog wie ein stein in der faust,
schäumte auf, wurde weicher:
man wusch sich von kain zu abel.
einmal vergessen, verwitterte sie
zum rissigen asteroidensplitter,
doch ruht jetzt feucht und glänzend
wie etwas, das vom grund des sees
heraufgetaucht wird, sekundenlang kostbar,
und alle sitzen wir am tisch:
mondloser abend, duftende hände.
From: Regentonnenvariationen
Publisher: Hanser Berlin Verlag, Berlin
Publisher: Hanser Berlin Verlag, Berlin
Poems
Poems of Jan Wagner
Close
ESSAY ON SOAP
one piece was always nearby,followed its own phases,
diminishing like almost everything does;
then stood again full
and luminously white in its bowl.
weighed like a stone in the fist,
in a froth, it became softer:
one washed oneself from cain into abel.
once it was forgotten, it weathered
into a fissured, asteroid-splinter,
but rests now moist and shiny
like something from the bottom of the lake
that’s been quarried, precious for those seconds,
and we have gathered at the table:
moonless evening, fragrant hands.
From: Regentonnenvariationen
ESSAY ON SOAP
one piece was always nearby,followed its own phases,
diminishing like almost everything does;
then stood again full
and luminously white in its bowl.
weighed like a stone in the fist,
in a froth, it became softer:
one washed oneself from cain into abel.
once it was forgotten, it weathered
into a fissured, asteroid-splinter,
but rests now moist and shiny
like something from the bottom of the lake
that’s been quarried, precious for those seconds,
and we have gathered at the table:
moonless evening, fragrant hands.
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