Sit down on my thighs.
Hold me around my loins.
With your sweet tongues
Stroke my tearful cheeks.
Ah, you have such beautifully bejeweled
Eyes and such clear hands,
Weariest of my wives,
And such long, gentle legs.
Tomorrow I buy six pairs of new
Stockings of the thinnest silk
As well as very small, black silk shoes.
And in the evening you will dance
Soft, false dances
In the new silk shoes
And new silk stockings.
In the garden. In the sun.
Close to the water.
But at night I'll have you whipped
By four smiling eunuchs.
Hugo von Hofmannsthal's Barber
I stand this way on cloudy winter days
From dawn to dusk and I soap heads,
Shave them and powder them and speak
Indifferent words, stupid, foolish.
Most heads are completely shut,
They sleep limply. And others read again
And look slowly through long lids,
As though they had sucked everything dry.
Still others open the red cracks of their mouths wide
And tell jokes.
For my part, I smile courteously. Ah, I hide
Deep under these smiles, as though in a coffin,
The terrible, repressed, wise complaints
About the fact that we are forced into this existence,
Jammed in, firmly and inescapably trapped
As though in jail, and we wear chains,
Confusing, hard, that we do not understand.
And the fact that each man is distant and estranged from himself
As though from a neighbor whom he does not know at all,
And whose house he has always only seen from the outside.
Sometimes, when I am shaving a chin,
Knowing that a whole life
Is in my power, that I am now master,
I, a barber, and that a missed stroke,
A slice too deep, cuts off the round, cheerful head
That lies before me (he is thinking of a woman,
Books, business) from his body,
As though it were a loose button on a vest—
I am overcome. Then the feeling came over me… this animal.
Is there. The animal… both my knees knock.
And like a small boy tearing paper
Without knowing why,
And like students who kill gas lamps,
And like children who turn so red
When they tear the wings of captured flies,
So I would like to do the same,
As if it were a slip,
To make a scratch with my knife on such a chin.
I would too gladly watch the red stream of blood spray.
Spring
A certain Rudolf called out:
I have eaten too much.
Whether it's healthy is very questionable.
After such a greasy lunch
I really feel uncomfortable.
But I belch beautifully and smoke
Cigarettes now and then.
Lying on my heavy belly,
I chirp nothing but songs of spring.
Longingly, as though on a ramp
The voice squeals from the throat.
And like an old lamp
The wind blackens the bitter soul.
A Barkeeper's Coarse Complaint
It's enough to make me throw the chair through the panes of the
mirror Into the street—
There I sit with raised eyebrows:
All bars are full,
My bar is empty—isn't that terrific…
Isn't that strange… isn't that enough to make you puke,,,
The damned jerks—the miserable phonies—
Everyone goes right by me…
Bloody mess…
Here I am burning gas and electricity—
May God and the devil damn me to hell:
Damn It all… why is my bar the only empty one…
Grumpy, reproachful waiters standing around—
It is my fault—
Not one damned person comes to the door—
Cramped in a corner I sit with a hopeful face.
No customers come.—
The food rots, the wine and bread.
I might as well shut the joint.
And cry myself to death.
A Trouble-making Girl
It's certainly late. I must earn something.
But they're all going right by today with smug expressions on their
faces.
They don't want to give me a single good-luck penny.
It's a miserable life.
If I come home without money
The old lady will throw me out.
There is hardly anyone on the street any more.
I am dead tired and freezing.
I was never so miserable in my life.
I move around here like a piece of meat.
Finally someone comes over:
An extremely well-dressed man—
But in this life one can't tell much
By appearances.
He's also quite older. (they have more money,
Young ones tend to cheat you.)
We are face-to-face.
I raise my clothes above the knee.
I can get away with that.
That's the big draw..
Like flies to the light
The guys are drawn to us goats…
The John is certainly standing over there.
He is staring. He winks. Now I'll go right by him…
I think: he will give me a big piece of gold.
Then I get drunk in secret on expensive liquor,
That's still the best: sometime—alone
To be drunk quietly, for myself—
Or I can buy new shoes…
I won't have to go around in mended socks—
Or… sometime I won't go out walking the streets.
And take a rest from the guys—
Or… I'm already looking forward to this…
I'm so happy—
Here comes Kitty.
And scares the man off.
The Drunkard