In The Storm Of Roses

(Aria 1)

Wherever we turn in the storm of roses,
the night is lit up by thorns, and the thunder
of leaves, once soft in the depth of the bushes,
rumbling at our heels.

Wherever the fire of roses is extinguished,
rain washes us into the river. O distant night!
Yet a leaf, which once touched us, follows us on waves
towards the rivers' mouth.

 

From The Collected Poems by Ingeborg Bachmann, translated by Peter Filkins.
Copyright (c) 2006 by John Felstiner. Used by permission of Zephyr Press, Inc.

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