Alphabet

By Inger Christensen

"13. the alphabets" - last poem



alphabets exist

the rain of alphabets

incessant rain

grace light

intervals and forms
of stones of stars

courses of rivers and
motions of mind

tracks of animals
their routes and ways

nest-building
human solace

daylight in air
sign of the hawk

union in color
of sunlight and eye

wild chamomile
at houses´ doorsteps

snowbanks wind
house corners sparrows

I write like the wind
that writes with clouds´
tranquil script

or quickly across the sky
in vanishing strokes
as if with swallows

I write like the wind
writes water
with stylized monotony

or roll with the heavy
alphabet of the waves
their threads of foam

write in air
as plants write
stalks and leaves

or loopingly as with flowers
in plumed circles
filaments dots

I write like the water´s edge
writes a tideline
of seaweed and shells

or delicately as mother of pearl
feet of starfish
secretions of mussels

I write like early
spring that writes
the common alphabet
of anemones beeches
violets wood sorrel

I write like childlike
summer like thunder
over domed treetops
whitegold of ripening
lightning and wheat

I write like an autumn
marked for death
like restless hopes
lightstorms slicing
fog memory

I write like winter
write like snow
and ice and cold
darkness death
write

I write as the beating
heart writes
the muscles and the lungs
the face and the brain
the nerves their sounds

I write like the beating
heart writes
the sceleton the nails
the teeth the hair
the skull their silence

I write like the beating
heart writes
the hands the feet
the skin the lips
the sex their whisper

I write like the beating
heart writes
the blood and the cells
the visions the tears
the tongue their cry

Translated by Susanne Nied