When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction …
Auf meiner Reise nach Italien hatte ich nur ein kleines, feines Büchlein im Gepäck. „Poems for Travellers“, herausgegeben von Paul Theroux in der Reihe der Macmillan Collector‘s Library.
Das Buch hat mich sehr inspiriert, erfreut und zu nachdenklichen Strandgängen bewogen. Weil ich zwischen zwei Fraueninseln reiste, entschied ich mich, hier einige Dichterinnen vorzustellen. Auf El Hierro und auf Procida leben starke Frauen, die ihr Leben allein meistern mussten, als ihre Männer nach Kuba, Venezuela, Argentinien oder Nordamerika auswanderten. Viele Männer haben neue Familien in der Fremde gegründet und jeglichen Kontakt zu den Familien daheim abgebrochen. Selten haben die Zurückgelassenen sich neu vermählt. Sie hatten sich mit ihrem Schicksal arrangiert.
The Unexplorer
There was a road ran past our house
Too lovely to explore.
I asked my mother once – she said
That If you followed where it led
It brought you to the milkman‘s door.
(That‘s why I have not traveled more).
von Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)
The Taxi
When I am away from you
The world beats dead
Like a stackened drum
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast;
One after the other;
Wedge you away from me;
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face
Why should I leave you;
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
Von Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end
Will the day‘s journey take the whole long day
From morn to night, my friend
But is there for the night a resting -place ?
A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin,
May not the darkness hide ist from my face?
You cannot miss that inn
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before ..
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight ?
They will not keep you waiting at that door
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum .
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yes, beds for all who come
von Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
If once You Have Slept on an Island
If once you have slept on an island
You‘ll never be quite the same
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
You may bustle about in street and shop ,
You may sit at home and sew,
But you‘ll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Whereever your feet may go .
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep
But you‘ll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh, you won‘t know why, and you can‘t say how
Such change upon you came,
But – once you have slept on an island
You‘ll never be quite the same!
von Rachel Field (1894-1942)
Come, my friends,
‚Tis not too late to seek a newer world.