Seven Layers of Skin
Seven Layers of Skin
by Sarah Kirsch
translated by Peter Beicken
The onion lies peeled white on the cold oven
It shines from its innermost skin beside the knife
The onion alone... the knife alone... the housewife
Ran crying down the stairs hard-pressed by the onion
Or by the position of the sun above the neighboring house
If she does not return... if she does not return soon
The man will find the onion soft
And the knife tarnished
Sieben Häute
von Sarah Kirsch
aus Sämtliche Gedichte
© 2005, Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, München
In der Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH
Die Zwiebel liegt weißgeschält auf dem kalten Herd
Sie leuchtet aus ihrer innersten Haut daneben das Messer
Die Zwiebel allein das Messer allein die Hausfrau
Lief weinend die Treppe hinab so hatte die Zwiebel
Ihr zugesetzt oder die Stellung der Sonne überm Nachbarhaus
Wenn sie nicht wiederkommt wenn sie nicht bald
Wiederkommt findet der Mann die Zwiebel sanft
und das Messer beschlagen
七重衣
著者：莎拉.基希
译者：文珂
新剥的洋葱头白生生躺在冰冷的炉台
盈盈的光泽一层层照亮了旁边的刀刃
孤独的洋葱孤独的菜刀泪汪汪的主妇
奔下楼梯----是洋葱辣了眼睛
还是邻居屋顶的斜阳刺目
如果她不回来不尽快回来
丈夫将发现洋葱已经变软
菜刀已经变暗
About the Poem: Seven Layers of Skin
Playing with food doesn’t always end in laughter. This poem uses the image of cooking a meal as a way to suggest a great deal more about the way two people come closer together—or fall apart. There is an old German saying to the effect that a cat has nine lives, and an onion and a woman nine skins (or layers). This saying seems to imply that however strong or resilient someone may be, there comes a time when enough is enough. We don’t know exactly why the woman runs down the stairs, or what the man will find when he comes home. But we sense a pain here that comes from more than stinging eyes or a cut finger.
About the Poet: Sarah Kirsch
Sarah Kirsch was born in 1935 as Ingrid Bernstein in Limlingerode, Prussian Saxony. During the Nazi regime she protested the persecution of the Jews, and eventually changed her name to Sarah to protest her father’s anti-Semitism. After studying literature in Leipzig, she married the writer Rainer Kirsch in 1960. From 1965 on she worked as a freelance writer in what was then East Germany, the GDR. At first she wrote together with her husband, but divorced him in 1969 and moved to East Berlin where she worked ever since as a poet, journalist and translator. She has won numerous prizes and is regarded today as one of Germany’s finest living poets.
by Sarah Kirsch
translated by Peter Beicken
The onion lies peeled white on the cold oven
It shines from its innermost skin beside the knife
The onion alone... the knife alone... the housewife
Ran crying down the stairs hard-pressed by the onion
Or by the position of the sun above the neighboring house
If she does not return... if she does not return soon
The man will find the onion soft
And the knife tarnished
Sieben Häute
von Sarah Kirsch
aus Sämtliche Gedichte
© 2005, Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, München
In der Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH
Die Zwiebel liegt weißgeschält auf dem kalten Herd
Sie leuchtet aus ihrer innersten Haut daneben das Messer
Die Zwiebel allein das Messer allein die Hausfrau
Lief weinend die Treppe hinab so hatte die Zwiebel
Ihr zugesetzt oder die Stellung der Sonne überm Nachbarhaus
Wenn sie nicht wiederkommt wenn sie nicht bald
Wiederkommt findet der Mann die Zwiebel sanft
und das Messer beschlagen
七重衣
著者：莎拉.基希
译者：文珂
新剥的洋葱头白生生躺在冰冷的炉台
盈盈的光泽一层层照亮了旁边的刀刃
孤独的洋葱孤独的菜刀泪汪汪的主妇
奔下楼梯----是洋葱辣了眼睛
还是邻居屋顶的斜阳刺目
如果她不回来不尽快回来
丈夫将发现洋葱已经变软
菜刀已经变暗
About the Poem: Seven Layers of Skin
Playing with food doesn’t always end in laughter. This poem uses the image of cooking a meal as a way to suggest a great deal more about the way two people come closer together—or fall apart. There is an old German saying to the effect that a cat has nine lives, and an onion and a woman nine skins (or layers). This saying seems to imply that however strong or resilient someone may be, there comes a time when enough is enough. We don’t know exactly why the woman runs down the stairs, or what the man will find when he comes home. But we sense a pain here that comes from more than stinging eyes or a cut finger.
About the Poet: Sarah Kirsch
Sarah Kirsch was born in 1935 as Ingrid Bernstein in Limlingerode, Prussian Saxony. During the Nazi regime she protested the persecution of the Jews, and eventually changed her name to Sarah to protest her father’s anti-Semitism. After studying literature in Leipzig, she married the writer Rainer Kirsch in 1960. From 1965 on she worked as a freelance writer in what was then East Germany, the GDR. At first she wrote together with her husband, but divorced him in 1969 and moved to East Berlin where she worked ever since as a poet, journalist and translator. She has won numerous prizes and is regarded today as one of Germany’s finest living poets.
