from Mozart's Third Brain
Will my time suffice? For which
song, for which translation We will all be carried over With which ferry?
We emerge, liberated, from matter That's how we create its freedom
We are in many worlds simultaneously We are also in many brains. . .
We walk together through meadows of orchids; all the thousands
of flowers, all the night-scented orchids, the smaller, white, and the larger
yellowish green; all the fragrant orchids, their different colors, purple
to light creamy violet, a few disparate ones entirely white
The fly orchids, their purple-brown, insect-shaped flowers, these too
in different colors, degrees of lightness The purple-lilac torches of the early marsh orchids
The burnt orchids, with their dark hoods We walk there, as in the meadows of Hades,
but in the land of the living We see the buzzard and the heron The curlew circles
around us, crying warning The redshank chick cries kleep-kleep, from the fence-
post toward the sea When we get to the sea we see a flotilla of swans,
in the little bay to the north, on the stones in the distance cormorants sit
To whom does my brain belong? With what can I or you resist? Within me disorder
While my brain seeks its order, at almost any price. . .
All of us return to the dead Now we visit their graves together
Sometimes I am alone When I speak with the dead I am always alone
I speak with the dead in the language of the dead I also speak with birds
The feelings are identical But the dead can no longer think new thoughts. . .