"Penthesilea: Son of the Neriad!
You will not follow me to Themiscyra?
You will not follow me to that fair temple
That rises tall among the oaks?
Come here, I haven't told you everything..."*
What marble
Eyes cry
True tears
For stone
Heart's mind
Whips legions
From lips
Their tears
For you
Unsubstitutable
Will we meet
At my temple
Or yours
Penthesilea
Resurrected
In bed
Your hand
Was my thigh
Heart's eye
Evens the score.
Come here
You haven't
Told me
Everything come
Here to
Themiscyra you
Haven't told
Me everything
My precious
Friend I
Haven't told
You everything
To Themiscyra
We go
My precious
Friend I
Haven't told
You everything
I haven't
Told you
Everything for
My temple
For my
Temple for
The sake
Of all
Homelands
I haven't
Told you
Of our
Legions slaying
Identity
My precious
Friend another
Temple rises
Even taller.
*from Kleist's *Penthesilea*, trans. Joel Agee.
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1 comment:
That's a lovely variation on Penthesilea's words.
I'm the translator, and I'm very pleased to see the play is being read and appreciated.
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