Christine Lavant

Christine Lavant Poems

ICH HOERE KOMMEN den schweren Mond,
ich hoere gehen den leichten Schlaf,
mein Gedaechtnis schleift alle Messer
am Stein des Gedenkens.
...

WENN DU MICH einlaesst, bevor deine Haehne erwachen,
werde ich dienen fuer dich in den knoechernen Haus,
will die Herztrommel schlagen, den Atem dir schoepfen
und dreimal die geistliche Rose begiessen
am Morgen, am Mittag, am Abend.
...

LET ME IN before your cockerel wakes
and I will serve you in the house of bones,
beat the heart's drum, create your breath
and water the sacred rose three times,
morning, noon, and evening.
...

ZERSCHLAGE DIE GLOCKE in meinem Gehoer,
durchschneide den Knoten in meiner Kehle,
erwaerme mir mein erdrosseltes Herz
und mache die Augaepfel zeitig.
...

SHATTER THE BELL in my ear,
slash the knot in my throat,
warm my stifled heart
and ripen my eyeballs.
...

WHO WILL HELP me starve this night
and all the nights to come?
The round moon traces a huge curve
far away from me, I am too thin for it already.
...

SINCE TODAY, but forever
I know: This earth is really warm -
the burning I return to the nettle
and to the hedgehog its spines.
...

SINCE TODAY, but forever
I know: This earth is really warm -
the burning I return to the nettle
and to the hedgehog its spines.
...

I HEAR THE HEAVY MOON approaching,
I hear shallow sleep walking,
my memory sharpens all knives
on the memory stone.
...

Christine Lavant Biography

Christine Lavant was an Austrian poet and novelist. Lavant was born in the hamlet of Großedling (today part of Wolfsberg) in the Lavant Valley, Carinthia, the ninth child of a poor miner's family. Later she adopted the name of the valley as her pseudonym. The newborn suffered from scrofula of the breast, neck and face, and nearly went blind. From the age of three, the child at regular intervals contracted pneumonia and physicians treated her as nonviable; nevertheless she was enrolled in primary school (Volksschule) in 1921. During a hospitalisation in Klagenfurt, the chief physician noted Lavant's literary interest and presented her an edition of Rainer Maria Rilke's works, which she carried on her 60 kilometres (37 mi) walk home. In 1927 her health again declined and she was only able to finish primary school with continual interruptions two years later, after been exposed to a risky X-ray treatment. She had to abandon the subsequent attendance at the lower secondary school (Hauptschule) as the way was to long for the feeble child. Lavant had to stay at her parents' home and occupied herself with painting, writing, reading, and needleworks. A protracted middle ear infection left a single-sided hearing impairment. In the early 1930s, she came down with a major depression, but also focused on painting and writing and offered a first novel to a Graz publishing house. The manuscript was finally rejected in 1932, whereafter Lavant completely destroyed her writing and in 1935 resorted to a Klagenfurt sanatorium. Her financial condition worsened, after her partents had died in quick succession in 1937 and 1938. Supported by her knitting and subsidised by her siblings, she married the painter and former landowner Josef Habernig, about 35 years her senior. After World War II, Lavant again began to compose lyric poetry, which eventually gained some attention by the Austrian literary scene. A first volume was released by a Stuttgart publisher who recommended her to prose, whereafter she came out with the novella Das Kind (The Child) in the same year. She became publicly known after an appearance at a 1950 reading in Sankt Veit. Lavant relocated to her hometown Wolfsberg, where she lived seclusive for the rest of her life. When in 1964 her husband died after a stroke, she suffered a breakdown in health and again had to undergo hospital treatment. Lavant died, aged 57, in Wolfsberg. Her poems have been described as "almost mystically religious" and "archaic." Rilke and Christianity are seen as influences on her work.)

The Best Poem Of Christine Lavant

Ich Hoere Kommen Den Schweren Mond

ICH HOERE KOMMEN den schweren Mond,
ich hoere gehen den leichten Schlaf,
mein Gedaechtnis schleift alle Messer
am Stein des Gedenkens.

Fuenf Kraehen frassen den Mohnkopf lehr,
seine Krone schleppt eine Kreuzotter fort
und beschlaeft in der Herzmulde traege
den Samen des Schlafes.

Die Messerchen singen fromm und gestaehlt:
Wir werden schlachten den fetten Mond,
wir warden haeuten die freche Natter
und saeubern die klaegliche Mulde.

Ich hoere fallen den schweren Mond,
ich hoere zischen das schlanke Tier,
fuenf mutige Voegel verpflanzen
das Herz in Gedaechtnis.

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