noctuary entry

(because you can't write things that happen at night in a diary, can you?)

had a psycho day today - listening to people's problems with teachers, roomies, ex-boyfriends, kids, life in general. came home with a brain like an anthill on a hot summer day.
too lazy to do any work, not hungry enough to eat, not sleepy enough to sleep, totally unwilling to think, decided i knew all my books too well to bother myself with reading any.
took a long barefoot walk (it's a semi-warm early-spring night) through large parts of vienna, watching reflections of street lanterns on the water, smiling at silly remarks about barefootedness, listening to a crazy mixture of night sounds, feeling all sorts of ground under my soles, generally cleansing my brain of psycho stuff.

accidentally walked past the house where a friend has been living for just two weeks, at the very moment she was coming home, so that we only just saw each other.
lady coincidence meant to tell us it was time for the two of us to talk of many things, and we did.
perfect moment. perfect talk. perfect woman. perfect night.
there's a lot to be said for the perfect.

rain

that's you sitting behind this curtain of rain, i can see you:
the little round spots on the ground that look like drops
are really prints of your toes, and the clouds
just bulged because you took one too deep breath behind them.

that's you sitting behind this curtain of rain, i can hear you:
this dribbling sound comes from your shuffling feet, and this
tiny little pit-pat is your ear-ring jingling, while
the big whoosh is your hair brushing against the curtain cloth.

that's you sitting behind this curtain of rain, i can feel you:
the breeze is too warm to come from any hills but your bosom's,
and the little rivulets finding their way along my scalp
down my neck couldn't do so unguided - your finger behind each of them.

that's you sitting behind this curtain of rain, i can smell you:
no use pretending, dear, that this is the awakening earth
or leaf buds bursting on trees. all these i know well enough
to tell their arome from your shoulders, and hips, and legs.

that's you sitting behind this curtain of rain: i can taste you
in the moisture that gets in my mouth, mingled with petals and
filaments. i'm now pushing away this grey stuff, coming to share
your lair, trusting you keep snugness enough there for two.

bird flu...

...or any other kind of flu.

i really don't care. i just have it. *cough*

so has m., by the way :-(

awwwwwwwww!!

two rhinos arrived in vienna today! all the way from Nepal. welcome, cuties! just look at them, aren't they sweet? (TO DO: go to the zoo as soon as it stops snowing.)

To be said before falling asleep / Zum Einschlafen zu sagen

I want to have someone to sing to sleep,
to guard and sit up for their sake;
I want to rock you till slumber grows deep
and see you asleep and awake.

I want to be the one soul that knew
the night grew cold at the hearth,
and I want to hear each small sound from you
and from the woods and the earth.

Clocks call for each other with striking talk;
one feels what time really is.
The stranger down there on his midnight walk
is disturbing a dog, not his.

And silence behind them. My eyes lie low
and cover you up as they mark,
and they hold you softly and let you go,
when something moves in the dark.




Ich möchte jemanden einsingen,
bei jemandem sitzen und sein.
Ich möchte dich wiegen und kleinsingen
und begleiten schlafaus und schlafein.

Ich möchte der Einzige sein im Haus,
der wüßte: die Nacht war kalt.
Und möchte horchen herein und hinaus
in dich, in die Welt, in den Wald.

Die Uhren rufen sich schlagend an,
und man sieht der Zeit auf den Grund.
Und unten geht noch ein fremder Mann
und stört einen fremden Hund.

Dahinter wird Stille. Ich habe groß
die Augen auf dich gelegt;
und sie halten dich sanft und lassen dich los,
wenn ein Ding sich im Dunkel bewegt.

(Rainer Maria Rilke)