It

By Inger Christensen

Prologos

It. That´s it. That starts it. It is. It goes on. Moves. Beyond. Becomes. Becomes it and it and it. Goes beyond that. Becomes something else. More. Combines something else with more and keeps on becoming something else and more. Goes beyond that. Becomes something besides something else and more. Becomes something. Something new. Something newer still. In the next now, becomes as new as it can be. Asserts itself. Carries on. Touches, is touched. Catches free material. Grows bigger and bigger. Adds to itself by being more than itself, gains weight, gains speed, gains more in its rush, gains on something else, passes something else, which is taken up, taken in, fast weighted with what came first, so randomly begun. That´s it. So changed now that it´s begun. So transformed. Already a difference between it and it, as nothing is what it was. Already time between it and it, between here and there, between then and now. Already the span of space between it and something else, it and more, it and something, something new, which now, in this now, already has been, in the next now is and keeps on. Moves. [...]

Translated by Susanne Nied