Antoine Beuger
un lieu pour faire sonner l’éternité 

(text: Antoine Beuger)

tu viendras
tendrement
en m’attendant
et moi,
je t’attends
éternellement

viens …

doucement
d’où
d’où viens-tu?

approche-toi
silencieusement
finalement
je t’approche
éternellement
débordante
t’accueillant

je t’attends
vigilante
viens
je t’attends
m’adonnant
je t’entends
finalement
viens

Christopher Fox
too far: showing and telling

(text: Julian of Norwich (1342-1413), Revelations of Divine Love)

These revelations were shown to a simple creature in the year of our Lord 1373, on the eighth day of May. (p.42) 

God sent me a bodily sickness, in which I lay for three days and three nights […] and in the third night I often thought I was dying […] 
my sight began to fail and the room was dark all around me. (p.44) 

Then I saw red blood […] hot and fresh and very plentiful […] as plentiful as the drops of water which fall from the eaves after a 
heavy shower of rain […] Behold and see! (p.60) 

This place is a prison, and this life a penance […] Let us fly to the Lord, touch him, and we will be made clean. (p.168) 

And in this vision he showed me a little thing, the size of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of his hand. 
I looked at it and thought, what can it be? And the answer came, it is all that is made. (p.7) 

All this our Lord showed me with time and space to contemplate it. 
And when the vision stopped, it remained in my understanding. 
And I waited in fearful anticipation, rejoicing in what I saw. (p.52) 

It is a joy and a delight and an endless happiness that I have suffered.
If I could suffer more, I would suffer more. (p.18) 

It is joy and delight enough for me, and I ask nothing more of my hardship but I give you pleasure. (p.75) 

Look at thy beloved servant. Look at what injury and distress she has received for love of thee. (p.116) 

At one moment my consciousness was taken down to the seabed, and there I saw green hills and valleys, 
looking as thought they were covered in moss, with seaweed and sand. (p.55) 

And then I understood the greatest labour of all to be a gardener, toiling and sweating, making fresh water flow, 
and noble, plentiful fruits spring up. (p.120) 

And God showed me all this most gloriously with this meaning: See that I am God! See that I am in everything! 
See that I do everything! (p.59) 

And after this I soon returned to myself and to my bodily sickness, understanding that I would live, 
and like a wretch I tossed and turned and thought it a great weariness that I should live longer. (p.32) 

It is true that sin is the cause of all this suffering, but all shall be well, and all shall be well, 
and all manner of things shall be well. (p.80) 

And soon after this it was all over and I saw no more. (p.155) 

I pray to almighty God that this book come only into the hands of those who love him faithfully […] 
and beware that you do not take one thing according to your taste and fancy and leave another. (p.180)

(the page references are to the Penguin edition of Elizabeth Spearing’s translation)

   

Thomas Stiegler
treibgut IV

(text: Unica Zürn, Berlin 1953-54)

Wir lieben den Tod

Rot winde den Leib, 
Brot wende in Leid,
ende Not, Beil wird
Leben. Wir, dein Tod,
weben dein Lot dir
in Erde. Wildboten,
wir lieben den Tod

Lumière je te tiens
Déjà trouble
Joie désirée unique je te tiens
Double
Ô monde sur deux tiges
Pour cueillir la fleur simple éternelle
Il faudra choir mortes les ailes

   
Ô rompre les amarres
Partir partir
Je ne suis pas de ceux qui restent
la maison le jardin tant aimés
Ne sont jamais derrière mais devant
Dans la splendide brume
Inconnue

Moi l’envolée
J’ai perdu dans les airs la trace des oiseaux
Moi l’écoulée
En dormant j’ai perdue la voix
                                  des passeurs d’eau
Je suis le chant qui s’en va tout seul
Entre terre et ciel

Minuit
La paix des chrysalides
Est si profonde
Ce n’est pas l’ombre que je cherche
Ni l’humble signe
De la halte sous les palmiers
Tranquilles ni l’eau ni l’ange
Gardien d’oasis
Je cherche le chemin qui dure
Toujours toujours toujours

   
Je m’arrête parfois sous un mot
Précaire abri à ma voix qui tremble
Et qui lutte contre la sable
Mais où est ma demeure
Ô villages de vent
Ainsi de mot en mot je passe
À l’éternel silence

   
Le monde est si tranquille
Cueilli
Sous le feuillage de l’éternité

L’heure venue
pousser la porte du jardin
Sans larme traverser
L’espace de la rose
Et doucement glisser
De l’un à l’autre été