Literal Translation by Shaun Whiteside
Zuleika Speaks
Literal translation by Shaun Whiteside
where am I from? time and time again the same question
i’ve been out of it so long I’m barely aware
it also gets to my father – with the same accusation
that meant he had to go and make good the loss
of family and land as a cab driver here
and when his shift ends with two glasses of plonk
he sees himself now as the keeper
of our faith and raises shiraz skywards like it’s paradise
forgotten the resentment of his god’s reps along with their alibis
i was 15 when I stopped shoe-gazing in his presence
and have been held hostage since then with the deeper
skin the darker hair and the nose
which no hijab can subtract from the world
still not taking off the veil has meant
becoming a woman now despite all the dirty looks
from without to be within is what one is
a life can only be led if you don’t miss yourself
which is easily said here in frankenhausen
but less easily done allowed to train up
as an interpreter I’m surrounded by flip-sided words
that spin and keep slipping their definition:
hide and hide just and just match and match lock and lock
which side occupies me? this side?
common to both is the unfreed
arm and the arm with the unpractised notes
in a language no longer strange to me yet so blank
that everything could start all over again
if I were allowed enough elbow room
no rush for german hospitality –
politeness serves the most dreadful hostility
no point complaining about spite
whatever they say to you: the powerful remains
as your goethe says how to go on – living on your wits
like a bag lady wandering through no-man’s-land
cross and cross fair and fair smart and smart
a mizzling rain on the bared forearm
the yellow dusk the lowering of the light
time can promise as many hopes as grief how is that?
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