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122 5Deception Now weary hands again, now weary legs again, a darkness that will not lift. I laugh, so that the firm walls shift. But now I’m lying, confess: I’m weeping, nonetheless. Walser / Hamburger 6Too Philosophical How ghostly in its sinking and rising is my life. To myself I see myself wave and vanish from the waver As laughter I see myself and then as deepest sadness, then as a wild weaver of words; yet all of it sinks, goes down. And surely at all times can never have been right. To roam forgotten spaces has always been my plight.
page 129
Walser / Hamburger 123 7Evening Yellow-black in the snow before me a path gleams and winds under trees. It’s evening, and heavily colours moisten the air. The trees under which I walk have branches like children’s hands; they endlessly beseech, unspeakably dear, when the walker halts and stands. Distant gardens and hedges burn in the dark confusion, and a glowing sky, fear-frozen, sees the children’s hands stretch out. 8On I wanted to stop, stand still but was driven on and on, past trees that were all black, but under those black trees I wanted to stop, stand still, yet was driven on and on, past meadows that were green, but by those green meadows

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122

5Deception

Now weary hands again, now weary legs again, a darkness that will not lift. I laugh, so that the firm walls shift. But now I’m lying, confess: I’m weeping, nonetheless.

Walser / Hamburger

6Too Philosophical

How ghostly in its sinking and rising is my life. To myself I see myself wave and vanish from the waver

As laughter I see myself and then as deepest sadness, then as a wild weaver of words; yet all of it sinks, goes down.

And surely at all times can never have been right. To roam forgotten spaces has always been my plight.

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