Poem
Nora Gomringer
In remembrance of St Apollonia / I was at the dentist\'s today
And I was wide open,my mouth a great wound,
proof of pleasure and plenty.
Eyelids rigid with gnawing pain,
my hands holding tight like fools, yet
guessing that to hold on
wouldn’t bring them anything.
Out of amalgam, skillfully,
answerlessly, the giant formed in his temple
– it was almost still the Sabbath –
a tiny blossom and buried it in a hole.
Since when have I had this hole, oh Lord? What does
it mean to carry a hole around? A nonplace, a paradise
internalised. I almost wanted to call out: this hole, it seems
to me, is me. Do not remove it from this world!
But I’d been long since flourished, fluoridised,
tight-lipped: a girl
before her time.
De H. Apollonia indachtug / Vandaag was ik bij de tandarts
Wagenwijd open lag ik daar,een grote wond mijn mond.
Blijk van feest en overvloed.
Mijn oogleden stijf van borende pijn,
mijn handen knepen elkaar als gekken,
zochten houvast
tegen beter weten in.
Vaardig, zwijgzaam, maakte de reus
van amalgaam in zijn tempel
– nog net op de sabbat –
een nietige knop en begroef hem in een gat.
Sinds wanneer heb ik dit gat, o Heer? Wat betekent het
om een gat met je mee te dragen? Een nietsplaats, een paradijs
verinnerlijkt. Bijna riep ik uit: dit gat, lijkt mij,
dat ben ik. Neem het toch niet weg uit deze wereld!
Ik was allang gefloreerd, gefluorideerd,
gesloten: een meisje
voor haar tijd.
Eingedenk der hl. Apollonia / Heute war ich beim zahnarzt
Und ich war sperrangelweit,eine große Wunde mein Mund.
Zeugnis der Feste und Fülle.
Die Lider starr vom bohrenden Schmerz,
die Hände hielten sich wie Idioten, doch
ahnend, dass ihnen das Halten
gar nichts bringt.
Aus Amalgam tormte kunstfertig,
auskunftsfrei der Riese in seinem Tempel
– fast noch am Sabbat –
eine winzige Blüte und grub sie in ein Loch.
Seit wann habe ich dieses Loch, oh Herr? Was bedeutet es,
ein Loch mit sich herumzuführen? Einen Nichtort, ein Paradies
verinnerlicht. Fast wollt ich rufen: Dieses Loch, so scheint mir’s,
das bin ich. Nehmen Sie es nicht aus dieser Welt!
Da war ich längst floriert, fluoridiert,
verschlossen: ein Mädchen
vor seiner Zeit.
From: Morbus
Publisher: Voland & Quist, Dresden, Leipzig
Publisher: Voland & Quist, Dresden, Leipzig
Poems
Poems of Nora Gomringer
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In remembrance of St Apollonia / I was at the dentist\'s today
And I was wide open,my mouth a great wound,
proof of pleasure and plenty.
Eyelids rigid with gnawing pain,
my hands holding tight like fools, yet
guessing that to hold on
wouldn’t bring them anything.
Out of amalgam, skillfully,
answerlessly, the giant formed in his temple
– it was almost still the Sabbath –
a tiny blossom and buried it in a hole.
Since when have I had this hole, oh Lord? What does
it mean to carry a hole around? A nonplace, a paradise
internalised. I almost wanted to call out: this hole, it seems
to me, is me. Do not remove it from this world!
But I’d been long since flourished, fluoridised,
tight-lipped: a girl
before her time.
From: Morbus
In remembrance of St Apollonia / I was at the dentist\'s today
And I was wide open,my mouth a great wound,
proof of pleasure and plenty.
Eyelids rigid with gnawing pain,
my hands holding tight like fools, yet
guessing that to hold on
wouldn’t bring them anything.
Out of amalgam, skillfully,
answerlessly, the giant formed in his temple
– it was almost still the Sabbath –
a tiny blossom and buried it in a hole.
Since when have I had this hole, oh Lord? What does
it mean to carry a hole around? A nonplace, a paradise
internalised. I almost wanted to call out: this hole, it seems
to me, is me. Do not remove it from this world!
But I’d been long since flourished, fluoridised,
tight-lipped: a girl
before her time.
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