Poems by Hellmut Seiler

It issues from the kitchen sink,
the drain pipe in the shower stall, the man-
holes wherever you go and listen:

a roar, deep underground, from the
rumbling entrails of the city. Is it
the turbo charged engines racing at takeoff?

The echo of traffic and the shouts of the
street traders? Or is it the underworld
filled with the cries of the tortured? Is it

only the wash of waves, the sound
of breakers intermingled with the jumble
of voices from the houses and taverns?

No, not at all. Listen: a bell calls,
planks creak under hundreds of steps
from the armories, fanfares, drum

rolls proclaim inescapable disaster.
Saber rattling, clashing of swords on coats
of mail, boom of cannons, walls

crashing down. Cries of supposed victors,
a gruesome death rattle. It makes the floor
resound, causes the groan of the pipes.

On perfectly clear days, however, when
innumerable flights tear up the sky,
the bellowing of the oracle bulls joins in.

Immersed in shredded ray bundles
of an evening in May - the Olympus, bald,
godless. At least when viewed from above.

The sea glistens from far away, the surf
is in one's ear. "Would anybody care to
make a purchase?" Up in the sky we are
inescapably tied to the earth.

I.	Timarista and Krito Krito raises her hand to her mother, wishes to hold on to her; her head is lowered, can it drop any lower? Timarista, before entering the world of shadows with confidence, is trying to console disconsolate Krito, has already set her foot facing outward, her step faltering, interrupted in the transition from the one life. Continually they both celebrate eternal parting, are preserved for each other breathlessly; they separate incessantly, heads and hands raised to each other.
II.	Her left foot outstretched, the nymph sits on the rock, no, slips off of it: cloak hung loosely over her shoulders, she has been sliding a little bit, coquettishly, for twenty-four centuries.
III.	Bent over one of her sandals, Aphrodite supports herself on a little priapus, his member erect. Her footwear remains untied; surprised by the spectator, she throws back her heavy lock of hair; and he stands, face pinched, condemned to erection eternally.

These poems were written during a study on the island of Rhodes in May/June 2000. Copyright © Hellmut Seiler and Johannes Beilharz (translation) 2000. Translation authorized and approved by Hellmut Seiler.

Rhodes, June 2000

Poems by Hellmut Seiler in English translation by Johannes Beilharz