[Through one of the many yellow], 
- [Through one of the many yellow], and [Old sleep]
[Through one of the many yellow]
Through one of the many yellow holes in the sky, courage drips into my glass heart.
I daren’t consume a single drop until the sun rises and shows how forsaken I am.
Through one of the many yellow holes in the sky my prayer pushes its way into the golden house.
I cannot enter it for a long time yet. Glass hearts break too easily in the hand that tests them. [End Page 54]
[Old sleep]
Old sleep, where do you keep your sons? You should have young, strong sons, such fellows as are capable of more than simply coming to put out the light.
One should place himself beside my fear, one kneel on my yearning, they must both have tight fists so the neighbors hear no screams.
What do you want to scatter in my eyes? Sand?—I laugh!—I can give you an entire desert for such eyes, so they will be content with it.
Mine, you know, are two columns of fire, the sky will one day burn with them! But beforehand, I want to sleep at last. Old one, old one, have you no sons? [End Page 55]
Christine Lavant (1915–1973), from Groß-Edling, Carinthia, southern Austria, was a student of religious, mystical, and philosophical literature. Known by the pen name she took from her native valley, she was the recipient of several major Austrian literary awards, including the Georg Trakl and Anton Wildgans Prizes. The originals of the poems featured in this issue first appeared in Die Bettlerschale [The Begging Bowl] in 1956.
David Chorlton was born in Spittal-an-der-Drau, Austria, grew up in Manchester, England, and lived for several years in Vienna before moving to Phoenix in 1978. As much as he has come to love the Southwest, he has strong memories of Vienna, the setting for his work of fiction, The Taste of Fog (Rain Mountain Press, 2011). His most recent work includes Selected Poems (FutureCycle Press, 2014) and A Field Guide to Fire, his contribution to the Fires of Change exhibition shown in Flagstaff and Tucson.
