Gedicht
Dan Pagis
THE LAST ONES
I am already quite scarce. For yearsI have appeared only here and there
at the edges of the jungle. My graceless body,
well camouflaged among the reeds, clings
to the damp shadow around it.
Had I been civilized,
I would never have been able to hold out.
I am tired. Only the great fires
still drive me from hiding place to hiding place.
And what now? My fame is only in the rumours
that from time to time
and even from hour to hour
I’m shrinking.
But it is certain that at this very moment
someone is tracking me. Cautiously
I prick all my ears and wait. The steps
already rustle the dead leaves. Very close. Here.
Is this it?
There is no time to explain.
© Translation: 1989, Stephen Mitchell
From: Variable Directions
Publisher: North Point, San Francisco, 1989
From: Variable Directions
Publisher: North Point, San Francisco, 1989
THE LAST ONES
© 1991, Hakibbutz Hameuchad and the Bialik Institute
From: Kol Hashirim Dan Pagis
Publisher: Hakibbutz Hameuchad and the Bialik Institute, Tel Aviv & Jerusalem
From: Kol Hashirim Dan Pagis
Publisher: Hakibbutz Hameuchad and the Bialik Institute, Tel Aviv & Jerusalem
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THE LAST ONES
From: Kol Hashirim Dan Pagis
THE LAST ONES
I am already quite scarce. For yearsI have appeared only here and there
at the edges of the jungle. My graceless body,
well camouflaged among the reeds, clings
to the damp shadow around it.
Had I been civilized,
I would never have been able to hold out.
I am tired. Only the great fires
still drive me from hiding place to hiding place.
And what now? My fame is only in the rumours
that from time to time
and even from hour to hour
I’m shrinking.
But it is certain that at this very moment
someone is tracking me. Cautiously
I prick all my ears and wait. The steps
already rustle the dead leaves. Very close. Here.
Is this it?
There is no time to explain.
© 1989, Stephen Mitchell
From: Variable Directions
Publisher: 1989, North Point, San Francisco
From: Variable Directions
Publisher: 1989, North Point, San Francisco
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