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Abishag

from Part I - Neue Gedichte / New Poems

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  05 July 2016

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Summary

I.

She lay there. And the king's subservients tied

her childlike arms around the withered powers

of him on whom she lay those sweet long hours.

His full years left her almost terrified.

And sometimes, when she heard the screech owl scream,

she'd turn and bury in his beard her face;

then everything that was the nighttime came

in fear and longing, flocking to that place.

The stars were trembling with her, as a scent

went searching through the bedroom where she lay.

The curtain stirred — a sign, but what was meant?

Her soft eyes sought the sign, turning that way,

but still she clung to him — that dark old man —

untouched by what the night of nights can do.

She lay, upon the chilling he began,

As lightly as a soul — a virgin, too.

II.

The king sat pondering his empty day:

pleasures missed; plans he'd meant to execute;

the pampered dog with which he chose to play.

Then Abishag became an arch, and lay

above his life of chaos and dismay —

a lost life, like some coast of ill repute

beneath the stars — her breasts, nursing him mute.

A woman-savvy man, he'd recognize,

sometimes, her fixed and un-kissed mouth, with eyes

that saw her through his shaggy brows, and found

the truth: her feelings’ green divining rod

did not point down into his very ground.

He shivered. Then he listened like some hound

and sought himself inside his own last blood.

David singt vor Saul

I

König, hörst du, wie mein Saitenspiel

Fernen wirft, durch die wir uns bewegen:

Sterne treiben uns verwirrt entgegen,

und wir fallen endlich wie ein Regen,

und es blüht, wo dieser Regen fiel.

Mädchen blühen, die du noch erkannt,

die jetzt Frauen sind und mich verführen;

den Geruch der Jungfraun kannst du spüren,

und die Knaben stehen, angespannt

schlank und atmend, an verschwiegnen Türen.

Daß mein Klang dir alles wiederbrächte.

Aber trunken taumelt mein Getön:

Deine Nächte, König, deine Nächte —,

und wie waren, die dein Schaffen schwächte,

o wie waren alle Leiber schön.

Dein Erinnern glaub ich zu begleiten,

weil ich ahne. Doch auf welchen Saiten

greif ich dir ihr dunkles Lustgestöhn? —

Type
Chapter
Information
New Poems , pp. 21 - 22
Publisher: Boydell & Brewer
Print publication year: 2015

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