Ich lebe grad, da das Jahrhundert geht
I’m living just as the century ends.
A great leaf, that God and you and I have covered with writing
turns now, overhead, in strange hands.
We feel the sweep of it like a wind.
We see the brightness of a new page where everything yet can happen.
Unmoved by us, the fates take its measure
and look at one another, saying nothing.
Yesterday–New Year’s Eve for us in this culture–I got up from my practice and intended to write this very piece, and found that I, who had plenty of words while trying to let go of the words, had none. But I love this poem, and a century is always ending, and I love this picture, so I’d better just put them both up and promise to add a few more of the words that want to come through this person when…they come.
Oh, and one other thing: the title to this one: I don’t have the slightest idea what it means in this context, but I’m going to leave it up there any way.
Peace, peace, peace………….