LDV100

BEATRICE BERRUT 27 Two people walk through a bare, cold grove. / The moon glides with them; they look up towards it. / The moon glides over tall oaks; / No wisp of cloud dims heaven’s light, / into which the jagged black branches reach. / A woman’s voice speaks: / ‘I am carrying a child, but not by you: / I walk in sin beside you. / I have committed a grievous offence against myself. / I no longer believed in happiness, / yet I had a powerful longing / for meaning to my life, for a mother’s joys / and duties; and so I grew shameless, / and, shuddering, let my womb yield / to a stranger’s embrace, / and even thought myself blessed. / Now life has taken revenge: / now I have met you – ah, you!’ / She walks on, with stumbling steps; / she looks upwards; the moon glides on with her. / Her sombre gaze is drowned in light. / A man’s voice speaks: / ‘Let the child you have conceived / be no burden to your soul. / Oh, see how brightly the universe shines! / There is radiance over everything! / You are drifting with me on a cold sea, / yet a special vibrant warmth passes / from you to me, from me to you. / It will transfigure the stranger’s child. / You will give birth to it for me, from me; / you have infused me with radiance / and made me a child myself.’ / He enfolds her around her strong hips. / Their breath mingles in the air as they kiss. / Two people walk on through the high, bright night. Transfigured Night Richard Dehmel (* 18.11.1863, † 08.02.1920) Translation: Charles Johnston