tenderness is in the hands
― Carolyn Forché, L’Avventura (1960), Ocean Vuong, The White Ribbon (2009), Hart Crane, Gelatin Silver, Love (2009), Ingeborg Bachmann, Les amants du Pont-Neuf (1991), Sylvia Plath, Psycho (1960), Rod McKuen (stills by @forhandsthatsuffer)
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It seemed more honest to remain silent.
Ingeborg Bachmann, quoted by R. Kolewe in 'Afterletters: From an essay on desire'
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Ingeborg Bachmann, tr. by Mark Anderson, from In the Storm of Roses: Selected Poems; “Songs from an Island”
[Text ID: “Your flesh remembers mine, / it was already inclined to me,”]
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War is no longer declared,
only continued. The monstrous
has become everyday.
Ingeborg Bachmann, excerpt from "Every Day" trans. Mark Anderson
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Ingeborg Bachmann, from Darkness Spoken: The Collected Poems; "Without Hope"
Text ID: outside one feels, as in a dream, / how good the world really is.
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Ingeborg Bachmann, from Word for Word in "Three Paths to the Lake: Stories"
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Yirminci yüzyıl Almanca edebiyatının en önemli şair ve yazarlarından Ingeborg Bachmann'ı aramızdan ayrılışının 50. yılında saygıyla anıyoruz.
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To Say Dark Things, Ingeborg Bachmann
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Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses: Invocation of the Great Bear; from ‘Songs from an Island’, tr. Mark Anderson
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Ingeborg Bachmann, tr. by Mark Anderson, from In the Storm of Roses: Selected Poems; “Songs from an Island”
[Text ID: “I hold your hand / with my eyes,”]
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Every Day
by Ingeborg Bachmann
War is no longer declared,
only continued. The monstrous
has become everyday. The hero
stays away from battle. The weak
have gone to the front.
The uniform of the day is patience,
its medal the pitiful star of hope above the heart.
The medal is awarded
when nothing more happens,
when the artillery falls silent,
when the enemy has grown invisible
and the shadow of eternal armament
covers the sky.
It is awarded
for desertion of the flag,
for bravery in the face of friends,
for the betrayal of unworthy secrets
and the disregard
of every command.
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Ingeborg Bachmann, from “Malina,” tr. Philip Boehm, originally published. c. 1971.
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Paul Celan to Ingeborg Bachmann, from Correspondence: Ingeborg Bachmann and Paul Celan; 24 June 1949
Text ID: I am full of impatience and love.
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We stepped into enchanted chambers and lit the darkness away with our fingertips.
Ingeborg Bachmann, from In the Storm of Roses: Poems; "Songs of Flight"
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