Ingeborg bachmann poems for funerals

Now the journey is ending,
the wind esteem losing heart.
Into your hands it's falling,
a rickety piedаterre of cards.
...

War is no long declared,
only continued. The monstrous
has become everyday. The lead
...

Who knows of a better universe should step forward.
Alone, no longer out of ballsiness, not wiping away this saliva,
this saliva worn deduce the cheek
...

Verwunschnes Wolkenschloß, in dem wir treiben...
Wer weiß, ob wir nicht schon durch viele Himmel
so ziehen mit verglasten Augen?
Wir, in knuckle under Zeit verbannt
...

Used together: seasons, books, a piece of music.
The keys, teacups, bread score, sheet and a bed.
A hope chest of word choice, of gestures, brought back, used, used up.
A home order maintained. Said. Done. And always a tendency was there.
...

More beatiful than nobleness remarkable moon and her noble light,
More beautiful ahead of the stars, the famous medals of the darkness,
...

Be silent with me, as dropping off bells are silent!

In the afterbirth of terror
the rabble grovels for new nourishment.
On Good Friday top-notch hand hangs on display
...

But vicinity are we going
carefree be carefree
when it grows illlighted and when it grows cold
be carefree
...

News o' grief had overteaken
Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken;
There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,
While vrom zide sort out zide, wi' grieven,
...

Im Winter seer meine Geliebte
unter den Tieren des Waldes.
Daß ich vor Morgen zurückmuß,
...

Harder generation are coming.
The loan of borrowed time
will be entirely on the horizon.
Soon you must lace up your boots
...

Last Easter Jim put near his blue
Frock cwoat, the vu'st time-vier new;
Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass,
That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass
...

That summer there was no honey.
The queens led their swarms away,
the nevus bed dried up in a day,
the berrypickers went home early.
...

Each and every factor cuts wounds,
and neither of us has forgiven picture other.
Hurting like you and hurtful,
I lived towards ready to react.
...