Drei Jahre und 105 Tage mit Corona, 1 Jahr und 134 Tage Krieg und: Louise Glück - Sommer

Ein Sommergedicht, das von der Hitze der Gefühle und deren sich abzeichnende Abkühlung im Herbst handelt. Die Metaphern könnte man auch umgekehrt verwenden. Wenn es kühler wird, kann die Liebe wärmen. Aber ja. Louise Glück erhielt 2020 den Literaturnobelpreis.

Ein Bild von 1977 (amerikanische Wikipedia)

“Summer” by Louise Gluck

Remember the days of our first happiness,
how strong we were, how dazed by passion,
lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed,
sleeping there, eating there too: it was summer,
it seemed everything had ripened
at once. And so hot we lay completely uncovered.
Sometimes the wind rose; a willow brushed the window.

But we were lost in a way, didn’t you feel that?
The bed was like a raft; I felt us drifting
far from our natures, toward a place where we’d discover nothing.
First the sun, then the moon, in fragments,
stone through the willow.
Things anyone could see.

Then the circles closed. Slowly the nights grew cool;
the pendant leaves of the willow
yellowed and fell. And in each of us began
a deep isolation, though we never spoke of this,
of the absence of regret.
We were artists again, my husband.
We could resume the journey.

Hier von einer Frau gelesen.