SELF-PORTRAIT WITH A SWARM OF BEES Poem by Jan Wagner

a moment ago i wore at best a fuzz
around my chin and lips; but now my beard
is growing and seething i might even pass
for magdalena: all my face hirsute

with bees. how they come buzzing from every side,
and, ounce by ounce, how a person's being

slowly but steadily gains in weight and spread
to become the stone-still centre of song . . .

my arms outstretched i bear a resemblance
to some ancient knight whom bustling varlets help
to fit his suit of armour, piece by piece -
first the helmet, then the harness, arms, legs, nape,

until he can hardly move - who does not tread,
just stands there gleaming, with barely a hint
of wind behind the lustre, lingering breath,
and only vanishing becomes distinct.