一座演化中的島嶼

When I am alone, it is not I who am there, and it is not from you that I stay away, or from others, or from the world. I am not the subject to whom this impression of solitude would come - this awareness of my limits; it is not that I tire of being myself. When I am alone, I am not there. This is not a sign of some psychological state, indicating loss of consciousness, the disappearance of my right to feel what I feel from a center which I myself would be. What approaches me is not my being a little less myself, but rather something which there is "behind me," and which this "me" conceals in order to come into its own.
-- Maurice Blanchot

Now how do two blind people love each other? That's the question.
-- Jacque Derrida

Paul Célan (1920-1970)
tr. Michael Hamburger


Illegibility
of this world. All things twice over.


The strong clocks justify
the splitting hour,
hoarsely.


You, clamped
into your deepest part,
climb out of yourself
for ever.　　　 ...繼續閱讀

Please could you stop the noise, I'm trying to get some rest
From all the unborn chicken voices in my head
What's this? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)
What's this? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)


When I am king, you will be first against the wall
with your opinion which is of no consequence at all
What's this? (I may be paranoid, but no android)
What's this? (I may be paranoid, but no android)


Ambition makes you look pretty ugly
Kicking, squealing, gucci little piggy
You don't remember
You don't remember
Why don't you remember my name?
Off with his head, man
Off with his head, man
Why don't you remember my name? I guess he does...


Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height... height...
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height... height...
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me


That's it sir
You're leaving
The crackle of pigskin
The dust and the screaming
The yuppies networking
The panic, the vomit
The panic, the vomit
God loves his children,
God loves his children, yeah!

To articulate what is past does not mean to recognize "how it really was" It means to take control of a memory, as it flashes in a moment of danger.
-- Walter Benjamin, Theses on History

Art is the negative knowledge of the actual world.
-- Theodor Adorno

Beloved imagination, what I most like in you is your unsparing quality.
-- André Breton, The Surrealist Manifesto

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
where the heart moves the stones
there that my heart is longing for
All for, for the love of you


A painting hangs on an ivy wall
Nestled in the emerald moss
The eyes declare a truce of trust
then it draws me far away
deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
darkness lays her crimson cloak
lamps will call, call me home


And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
now I feel, feel you move
And every breath, breath is full
So it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for, for the love of you


A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
there that my heart is longing for
All for, for the love of you

Paul Célan (1920-1970)
tr. Michael Hamburger


Do not work ahead,
do not send forth,
stand
into it, enter:


transfounded by nothingness,
unburdened of all
prayer,
microstructured in heeding
the pre-script,
unovertakable,


I make you at home,
instead of all
rest.　　　　 ...繼續閱讀