BY PRINCE YUSSUF
TRANSLATED BY TORSTEN SCHWANKE
PETER THE ROCK
I had fled from the city, and sank down exhausted before a rock, and rested for a drop of life deeper than a thousand years. And a voice tore itself from the top of the rock, and cried, „Why art thou stingy?“ And I turned up my eye and blossomed, and a happiness bewitched me. And from the rock to the earth rose a man with long beard and hard head, but his eyes were velvet hills. And little goblins climbed over his back and tapped him with their little hammers and called him - Peter. And we descended into the valley, and the man with the long beard and long hair of his head asked me whence I came, but I held my peace; the night had blotted out my ways, nor could I remember my name, howling hungry north-winds had torn it asunder. And the one with the rock name called me - Tino. And I kissed the shine of his chiselled hand and went to his side.
PETER AND I ON THE WANDERING 1
When we came to the country road, we met a man with a short black beard, who carried a large book on his back, and he said that his soul was thus with him. And when he opened the great book, it was full of vain letters that rhymed. And as Peter stopped again and spoke to the young trees that stood on either side of the causeway, it happened that the man with the vain soul tried to tempt me not to follow Peter. „He knows not the ways of this earth, and more groundless is he a thousand times than thou art, and two prowlers will stop thee at the next corner.“ But I kept my eyes fixed on the found one, as on a shining land, as on a kingdom of heaven with blue gardens. And when the man saw that he could do nothing, he began to revile me until he was swallowed up by a ditch.
PETER AND I ON THE WANDERING 2
In front of a little house near the town I wanted to part from Peter for a while, my sister lived there. But he entered the garden through the small fence gate. And two lovely girls came to meet us - the little child in their midst had torn herself away from their hands and was climbing a pear tree like a weasel, following lively sparrows from one branch to the other. It was my little boy. And Peter asked the two girls what their names were. „Sage and Haidekraut. They are my sister's children.“ And Peter said to Sage, „Your face is a beautiful bouquet of flowers.“ For Sage had eyes like silver ears of corn and a mouth of mauve blossom, and her cheeks glowed like roses. And Haidekraut lifted her little face inquiringly, „And you, tell it your mother, are a sun-coloured princess.“ And as I stepped into the hall of the cottage, the two lovely girls jumped after me, „Mummy, Mummy, the Lord God is outside in the garden!“ But my sister had seen us coming and was very thoughtful. I knew that the majesty of Peter would frighten her, and she grasped my hands anxiously, „Won't you stay with us?“
But Peter turned his face, and suddenly there was light over the little flower garden. But my sister sadly lowered her head; I tore myself away, caressed Sage and Haidekraut, kissed my little boy and went after the glorious one. When I turned around, I saw my sister standing at the window, her eyes were open in wonder, she was still looking behind our flight for a long, long time.
PETER AND I ON THE WANDERING 3
Then we stood before a mansion. „Here lives Onit von Wetterwehe“, said Peter, and I went after him through the creaking gate. Stretched out in the hottest sun, we found the young prince lying in the middle of the tall grass, and before him crouched a round, clenched, red-headed sleeper; he was talking buffoonery in his dreams, and tears were streaming down the young prince's cheeks. „Well, what do you think of such a tyrant, whose fool must lie down to sleep in broad daylight to relieve his boredom with stupid gibberish?“ And Onit von Wetterwehe jumped up when he heard Peter's voice, embraced him and regarded me curiously. „Who is she?“ - „Yes, you'd like to know it - I found her - some strange, browned star has dropped her out of hand, I'm sure.“ And from the other side of the garden three figures approached, tall and slender, and Peter called the handsomest of the two youths Antinous and the other Grimmer von Geyerbogen, and Naiad was called the brothers' blue-eyed sister. And we marvelled and were well pleased.
PETER AND THE MOON
We stood on a small hill near the town and looked into the distance. Peter pointed to the silver-dark line that united heaven and earth. He said, „That is where I came from.“ And it was evident to me: a wandering landscape he is, the longed-for home of the rejoicing. And when I wanted to speak to him, my eyes did not reach him, higher he had grown like the moon - and he held her in his hand, the largest golden orb. I called out. Then all the boys who loved Peter and the girls who danced around him like around a stone statue came and looked up at him. But he had thrown the most brilliant star back into the clouds, and a heavy rain poured down. We descended the hill and stepped under broad-leaved tree giants. We saw the others fleeing back to the city.
PETER-NEPTUNE
„I wouldn't be at all surprised if one day my feet were in gold slippers and there was a crown of rubies in my hair. And in the colourful galleries of mirrors in my palace I reflect a thousand and one times my shining jewels.“ And Peter graciously, „Tell me more, princess!“ But my blood pointed at me from every pore as I still thought of trifles beside the glory at whose side I was allowed to stream. And Peter-Neptune's face came and went, and his beard was like foam. „Why shouldst thou not dream of tinsel“, he said, „sometimes methinks thou art too young to flow into the ocean.“ But I hastened to him and stormily seized his hand.
PETER AND I AT THE BANQUET OF ONIT VON WETTERWEHE
As we came, black servants in colourful festive robes rushed to meet us. But Peter resisted their complaisance, „Surely you will not rob me of the last of my skins?“ So he entered the golden ceremonial hall in his grey cloak and I leaned at his side. Musicians in colourful bird masks chirp on their magic flutes among blossoming palm trees and jesters leap nimbly over the gala trains of beautiful women, their rubber limbs contorting into all manner of droll figures. And Tobacco, the jester, sits on the table in a large crystal bowl, his green mouth bulging countless times in a thousand cuts. And as we stood in the middle of the hall, where the many strange princelings mated, a strange cloud descended heavily on his lavish mood. The beautiful princesses hid their bewildered faces in the lace of their silk sleeves, while the cavaliers crowded around the pale host, who hurried to meet us. „I left my ermine at home!“ said Peter, smiling, and Onit von Wetterwehe turned to his guests, „He forgot to put it on, because of all his golden dreaming.“ And Antinous and Grimmer von Geyerbogen and Naiad surrounded us, Peter had already appeared in a dream to the red-eyed twins with the white Atlas hair, and it had happened to the young King Otteweihe, his shy eyes half-opened like buds. But the chief Bugdahan gave a shout of joy - Peter knew well his wild, bloody battle songs. And Raba, Bugdahan's sister, came and embraced me. And of the Jerusalemites some approached us; Onit loved the poetical sons of Zebaoth. They had pale cheeks and melancholy eyelids, and the eldest with the comforting eyes called himself Ben Ali Brom. And at the right hand of Peter sat Antinous, and I by the side of his heartbeat. And above us one of the musicians behaved boisterously when he caught sight of Peter, leaping over the colourful bird heads, down over the gallery grounds into the hall, and playing Petrus-hymns on his viola, leaning against the rosewood of his chair. And negro boys with long ear-hangings handed noble dishes on golden trays, birds of paradise with blue fruits. And wine made from royal grapes, they pour from emerald jugs into ceremonial cups - pearls form on the bottom. And next to Onit von Wetterwehe sat Weißgerte, the most beautiful of the princesses; her white neck - Alpine snow. And rosy and blue dragonflies, hovering through the dewy airs of the room, sat on her tresses, sank into her small, trembling forelocks and sipped her sweetness. „You ask me“, replied Onit von Wetterwehe, „who are the idolised mendicant and his child? You will soon tell it to me yourself.“ But Weißgerte curled her slender princess lips, bent to him over the blue silk of the table with dazzling dancing joy, „So toast to love with me, master, if you have not risen above it.“ And Peter waved his goblet so that it overflowed in wild streams, crackling stars beckoned from his beard. And Tobacco, the fool, had sat down on the rim of the crystal bowl - he squinted at it incessantly - his gaze stank. But Onit whisked me away from the strange banquet to his white rose gardens; there he showed me the hedge behind which Sleeping Beauty had lain a hundred years in magic sleep. And a tiny, wrinkled dwarf walked along the glittering gravel paths; it was the smallest that had been around Snow White. His mossy head was always bobbing and he already said „yes“ to everything that was asked of him. And he wore the big golden key to Onit's fairy tale collection around his neck and I had to put on the dress of Sheherezad. And when we stepped back into the magnificent hall, the guests did not recognise me. But around Peter knelt all the proud princesses, and Weißgerte kissed the hem of his plain coat, and the cavaliers served themselves with a cup. And Peter fulfilled the wish of the eavesdroppers and told them why he had remained unmarried. And when, on the eve of the heart's celebration, he desired his chosen one before her castle - proudly gazed the blue lake - „and in the noose of her neck choked my sinful impatience. She was a swan-maiden, Weißgerte. But when I came through Arabia, I drove out the Caliph's evil devils that pecked his brain with glowing needles; and like a mighty palm tree his favour embraced me. From a morning slumber his slaves brought me on a caravan of white camels to look for a bride among his daughters. Their beauty was praised in the land; but when they entered the caliph's hall in their finery and lifted their veils, I fell into a forty-day swoon. They all had skulls. And my third flame was a dreaming princess, golden-blond as you are, Weißgerte. That asked me in the time of the bridehood to visit her only every thirty days. But longing drove me to kiss her lips once before time - then my little princess had only half a face - she was a moon girl.“
And when Peter had finished telling his love adventures, the beautiful princesses hid behind the pillars and alcoves of the hall, the cavaliers smiled in trepidation, and even his favourites trembled. And Weißgerte said to Onit von Wetterwehe, „Satan is he... I am afraid of him!“ And she demanded repentance for her boisterous speech at the table; when she did not cease to press in, Peter-Satan said, „Well, if you long to atone, beautiful princess, you may clean the battlements of your palace with your little golden toothbrush.“ And then Peter put the sparkling goblet to his mouth once more, the wine blazed up in colourful, fizzing flames, and he swung the collar of his mantle around me: we soared over the crowns of the guests.
PETER AND THE NAZARENE
And the silver star hung in the morning sky, and many of the youths accompanied us, even Onit, the princely host, and his personal physician Kraft, and also the rotund jester of the table, and Antinous, and Grimmer von Geyerbogen, and close behind us strode Goldwarth, the irrepressible of the musicians, and the quiet young King Otteweihe, who turned to Peter, „All you have bestowed with your bright speeches, Master, will you not make me rich also?“ - „I will do that, King Otteweihe“, Peter said to him, „Your heart is a forest of flowering branches.“ And softly the footsteps died away behind us, but rejoicing we heard the young men, and these were golden sounds. And when, after a while, we looked around for them, we could not distinguish them at all. „True idlers they are, this careless band.“ And like a colourful ribbon they were in the distance, unravelling, tangling and re-tying. „Like a ribbon at play...“ said Peter, smiling. And I was so tired. I went on with my eyes closed, but my thoughts could not sleep. And fresh winds came and danced with my weariness towards the morning chimes, and blissful memories rose from Peter's Palm Sunday eyes - I lifted myself devoutly on my toes to look in his eyes. And as we stood in front of the church, he opened the heavy portal. Mothers prayed to the Heavenly Mother, and children laid flowers before the Starry Boy, and for the first time I saw men of stone who resembled Peter, they also had rough hair on their heads and wore long beards and kept their heads down, but they did not have a peak like him. And on the cross the Nazarene waited, suffering endlessly, so pinned down, so bloodied, so surrendered....... „Take him down from the cross, take him down from the cross!“ - And outside the earth prayed to the sun, and on the stairs the youths stood waiting for us, beautiful they were, and even the fool resembled a whiskered grotesque of a rare ancient pagan ornament of imperial treasure.
PETER AND THE SHEPHERD
The sky filled with blue. The coolness was fragrant, it was May. Peter and I let ourselves be carried across the little river, and when we were on the other bank, a young shepherd came towards us with his meowing kids. „Well, the black one you're carrying on your back is probably your favourite little sheep?“ And the boy nodded, „It's mine, the other lambs are the Lord's.“ - „Forgiving as a mother, he acts“, said Peter, and the tender shepherd looked around curiously for a long time after the servant Ruprecht with the wild grim beard. And I showed him my child for the first time. He sat on my shoulder like a little rider. Peter had never seen him, but now, when he lifted him up, he said, „Your child's eye is a clear star“, and now he also knew why I so often whisper and sing all kinds of things at dusk: Root-purple songs.
PETER‘S BIRTHDAY
The following day was Peter's day, because he was born on it. And early in the morning his darlings came and brought him gifts, and the other boys and girls garlanded him with roses and golden leaves. And we all sat down in a circle around him, only Little Pull was missing. He had climbed down from my shoulder and we heard him murmuring softly with a little boy behind a big oak trunk. And the little fellow looked like a meerkat in his wide hood, and none of us had seen him coming. „If you give me your raspberry bush for Peter's birthday, I'll give you a little jar in it.“ But the meerkat shook his little head and ate a red sweet raspberry from his bush! „I'll give you a little box“, cried Little Pull impatiently, „with a little box in it, and there's another little box in the little box, and there's a very, very little box in the smaller box, and there's a very little box in the very, very...“ Suddenly he began to scream loudly, because the meerkat had eaten all the sweet red raspberries in that time, jumped up and ran into the forest.
THE AFTERNOON BEFORE HIS BIRTHDAY-PARTY
The youths had not yet appeared, but Raba and Najade ordered the table with bowls full of napery and jars of red and golden wine and decorated the forest cottage with guirlandes. And in front of his epheupal door, up and down walked the glorious birthday boy and me. His brown eyes were two heavens, hence it came to pass that all who saw him - believed. And we noticed a crowd of idlers coming, they were in a heated exchange of words. And when they saw us, they quickened their steps, and I recognised among them those who thought they were related to me, and they asked me to show them my son. But Raba peeped out of the little hatch of the forest hut and smiled at their ruse. And because I refused, they became irascible and threw away my virtue. And Peter walked grimly among them, his beard clenched. And it happened that Little Pull had hurried ahead of the young men, and Peter put him on his hand and lifted him above the heads of the sneering ones: „You ask about the star and do not know the height... but here look at it, from her shoulder it has come!“ The young men beat the troublesome enemies - only Antinous remained faithfully at my side. And then the sun returned home with a silver crossbow, and we drank the red and golden wine in the forest house and ate the sweet pastries. And Peter drank from a heavy giant cup, always singing rogue songs, a gift from his favourites; and two of the strongest negro boys of Onit von Wetterwehe had to put it to his lips every time Peter thirsted.
PETER SET LITTLE PULL IN THE SUN
And Little ,Pull had drunk all the frothy remains from the cups, and crept stealthily again under the hazel-bush, and drew a deep breath, and growled as if he slept. But in the night Raba heard him whimpering and woke me up, and she put her quiet hands on my son's forehead - she did wonders! And I had to sit by his side next to Raba's lap and tell him stories about all the animals, and especially the funny one about the baboon mother and her child. They both sit on the box in the cage - the baboon-mother holds her beautiful baboon-baby in her arms and sings:
Sleep, sleep,
My little rosy ass,
My little sugar lily-flea,
My little gold louse,
Tomorrow the Empress will come from Asia
With sugar, chocolate and sweets,
Quick, quick,
Make hare, hare,
Or else blue mouth won't get any of the stuff.
And in the morning Peter put the pale Little Pull on a colourful flower hill and the sun played catching with him in his gold-dotted fringed dress.
CHIEF BUGDAHAN VISITS US IN THE LIMESTONE GORGE
And we sat in the limestone gorge, as in a white giant chair, and awaited Bugdahan. And Peter called out to him, while the chief struggled to climb the steep wall, „Welcome, Sam Bugdahan, we don't make it easy for our guests to get to us.“ But the chief's cheeks were shining, his bulbous eyes had emerged from their sockets and joy beaded from his poet's brow. His father had dugged gold in the primeval forests and the lust for adventure was spiritualised in his son. And when he had recited his war songs to us, Peter said he had clearly heard rusted spears creaking and boomerangs whizzing through the air. And I handed our guest a fresh drink, carved in his honour in a cup of Australian wood. „Under its flowering shadows your fathers ate human chicken, Chief Bugdahan.“ And he laughed so hard at my cannibalistic conceit that Peter and I also fell into laughter that had no end in sight. „Girl, I like you, don't you want to keep my sister Raba company?“ I stuck my tongue out at him, it grew wider and redder, and I never saw Peter rejoice so heartily, especially as Bugdahan thought me a joy idol of his faith. „He must be a man to be trifled with!“
And he began to exercise his stiff limbs for the way home, puffing he tumbled over the rocky lean-to. I in time formed balls of earth and clay and bombarded him until he was on the highway.
PETER AND I IN THE TEMPLE OF JEHOVAH
From the Chaussee steeply ascended many men and women with their children. On the heights stands the Temple of the Stars. Today is the Day of Atonement of Jehovah's people. „Brazen and soft is our temple, sweet and melancholy its songs.“ And Peter said, „We will ascend on high.“ And the cheeks of the men and women grew pale and trembled with joy when they saw him with the bright eyes of celebration and the everlasting beard. And the priest sang and a thousand voices answered: endless as the waves of the rivers of Babylon. Quietly Peter read the Hebrew chants of the Bible, „Wonderful is the form of this ancient language, the characters stand like harps and some are bent of fine strings.“ I touched his hand and pointed to the many silver stars of the white silk curtain: it hid the Holy of Holies. Silently we walked side by side over the cracked stone steps of the temple out into the blowing warmth. The birch trees on the road touched each other intimately with their branches. And I plucked for Peter the flowers that stood by the path.
PETER IN THE CAVE
We could no longer be on the mountains, nor on the meadows, and the trees of the forests resembled mighty pillars of ice. And we froze and were without shelter. And the young men had fallen out with their kinsmen, whom they had put to shame because of their tardy ways. And Onit von Wetterwehe had sailed on the seas with his personal physician Kraft and his table jester. But one day Bugdahan the chief came, he had discovered a cave, near his tent. And we set out, Bugdahan leads, then came Peter and I, we were followed by Antinous, Naiad and Grimmer von Geyerbogen and then Goldwarth and his friend, the Jerusalemite with the comforting eyes. And there joined us many more of the other young men that were homeless, and that knew our lodging. And we made an armchair for Peter of white birch wood and upholstered it with ferns and moss. And early in the morning, we held a lottery among ourselves to see who would go out on the prowl during the day. And we brought home sweet cream and wheat bread, which we found at the doors of rich houses, plundered large shops, and Grimmer stole a fur for Peter that weighed a hundredweight. And the evenings were celebrated, we sat around small fires, smoked pipes and drank the conquered wine, and Peter taught us gypsy songs.
PETER AND THE DOCTOR
Through the blank, grey sky we saw clearly lentil blue sprouting. Peter lay at the edge of a forest, under him we spread his great mantle. And still the young men who knew about the fevered man were not to be seen. Only the one sat by his side and I at his feet and we looked at him with concern. Antinous, southern wine, which he loved so much, was handed to him, the red-glowing medicine. But when Peter coughed, we anxiously sought our hands and smiled shyly at each other over the mighty body, as over a high-breathing sea. Peter slept. „I love you“, said Antinous, „and I want to kiss your eyes, they are like blackberries.“ Tentatively we approached and hid behind the sleeping man, behind the hard ruffle of his head. But when we sat thoughtfully in our places again and lifted our eyes up to Peter, we were violently frightened by his paleness. And I walked carelessly over the high wheat seed, to Raba, I wanted her to teach me her magic blue proverb. Tirelessly I will recite it, countless times on each bead of my necklace, until the cloud window above bursts open and a thousand warmth bends over Peter. But the path leading to the steep rocky slopes was blocked, I had to turn back, but I rejoiced when I saw all his favourites surrounding him. And it was Onit von Wetterwehe, the personal physician, who bent over his heaving chest under the fir-boughs, swaying to and fro from the fierce thrust of Peter's mighty heart, „Your rough northern storm cannot be driven away with any herb, nor bombarded with bitter pills, but May-rain I will prescribe for you, and sun!“
And Onit's negro boys carried Peter on their shoulders in a golden palanquin into the white rose garden. There the branches were already green and silky birds were singing. And at noon the cradling, golden woman came in her radiant dress and handed Peter the shining cup.
PETER-NOAH
Diligent angel maidens spin fine silk rain and they do not indulge in celebration. We sit between old boards cobbled together on the bank of a river, Peter raises his hand and points to the heavy darkness. Two black March clouds lift the nocturnal Lady of the West from her blackest cellar, they look like great kettles of water and a howl begins and the terrible shrieking and raving on high. „They're little devils“, Peter declares, „and it won't be too long now and we'll have, plop, the gift down here.“ And truly, the little devils poured the great cauldrons of cloud recklessly upon the earth, and the wild waters flooded the meadows and forests, and the river below awoke and dreamed no more. And its stillness foamed and we had grown so high with the floods to the fir crowns of the forests all around. The swaying rotten roof above us began to collapse, and my clothes were soaked through, but Peter sat and poetised of singing blossoms in the sunshine. Not a drop wet his hand and his beard lay like a still wave, „My wild black dove I took with me“, Peter said and smiled. And the days and nights passed and there was no end to the playful quarrelling. But when the little devils were tired and the maidens spun again their delicate rain silk, I swung myself over the sunken roof of our ark and plucked the young green pine cones, and we ate them; but when the noisemakers again took their turn with their splashing of water, I wrapped myself in Peter's great mantle and leaned at his lap. And then came a morning that was sunny and blissful like a great bridal chamber. The meadows glistened with demant drops, and the river was nascent and dreaming again, and the woods were fragrant, wearing new, green clothes, and Peter-Noah told me: that spring is the faith of God that always returns to the world!
PETER AND THE WILLOW
He sat down under a crippled willow. „How young you are“, I said to him, gazing at the ineffable under the greyness of the tree witch. How young he is in his eternity - Baldur is he, the god with the cheering brightnesses! „Why don't you come closer?“ he asked me. But I waited for something that had never happened. A red-cheeked gale leapt across the path and woke the sleeping old woman of the roots, and her two hairy, gristly branches settled over brown-bright curls. „Spring, spring, the spring that's here!“ Girls like shimmering red and blue dragonflies came and bright-eyed children with silver chimes, young wanton lambs, so they leapt and celebrated spring birthdays. Heaven‘s flags waved blue.
PETER AND THE MONTH OF MAYE
It's May, there's a silver bush in bloom, and there's one with pink blossoms, and Peter always has to tell me what they're called. And all of a sudden I was way ahead of him, he stood in the middle of the meadow and poetised. „I will never part from him“, I said quite loudly to the bright sky, but he didn't hear it at all in his leniency. But the young men had heard it, and from a hiding place their four-humoured laughter resounded. And they lifted me over the thorn and bound me with raffia threads. „Now you must tell us which of us Peter loves most.“ I refused, so they blindfolded me and told me to grab the favourite of his heart. And I could only see a little drop of morning light and under it Antinous, and I took hold of him and he clapped his big, slender hands and danced a boisterous dance with me. „O thou soft messenger of Peter!“ And he kissed me countless times. And then we all sat down side by side on the fresh green, and they pressed irrepressibly into me to confess which of them I loved most - and I pointed to each of them in turn. „Your lives play in tones before me, and I love your song as the Song of Songs that resounds every thousand years.“ And the youths cried, „She has drunk too much of the green airs!“ But I was deeply moved, and to hide my emotion I spoke unctuously, like a preacher. And behind the fence Peter stood laughing and waving his giant pencil over our heads! „A spring is your girlfriend that does not flow, a spring that rises and suddenly overflows you.“
PETER AND MY LOVE
We used to walk around the redthorn hedges of a miracle garden. I too felt my heart fragrant. And Peter nodded pensively and I thought: He is a creator, how he walks along smiling, smiling... A creator and he gathered in his great goodness the honey of my bliss for a new world he carried on his shoulder. Sometimes his thoughts would soar like a flock of young birds and rest on a narrow cloud of white, and his eyes would widen, drinking sunshine fresh from nature. But when I was silent for a while, then he looked at my lips, and they cheered, „I love the beautiful Antinous and Onit von Wetterwehe with the silken eyes and the stare around the hearts, and Grimmer von Geyerbogen, and Goldwarth's hair I love, the sun sparkle on his forehead. But often these fierce rays of infidelity make me pensive.“ And Peter put my hand in his and said, „Rejoice in your leaping Love, he is a child and wants to play.“
AT THE SORCERESS HELLMÜTHE
„You must have seen her, as the mariner on the sea must have seen the lighthouse“, Peter said to me, and we strode through a long, weather-beaten hall into the round, cool forecourt. I have only ever heard of delicate sorceresses with golden hair; but Hellmüthe was not delicate and golden-curled, like heavy ropes her silver-dark hair fell down on either side of her proud face. „Here I bring you my comrade, Tino I call her, it is the green-red radiance of her blood - or do you know to tell me her elder name, sorceress?“ And Hellmüthe kissed me on both cheeks, and when I wanted to show her my son, he was no longer sitting on my shoulder. All the weirdness hanging from the ceiling and all the boisterous, distorted grimaces on the walls, Little Pull's head peered fearfully out of Peter's big coat pocket. But the sorceress brought him out of his hiding place, showed him her marabou, which stood offended in a corner. He had been expecting green pond laundry for his name day today, and luckily Pull had his sugar frog from the fair with him, and while the two made friends, an Indian boy in a leafy skirt entertained us with white Burgundy wine. And Hellmüthe's wandering sea eyes were fixed on Peter, but he kept his head averted and talked about germinating islands. And always in between the dull rattling music - the marabou was having a delicious conversation with my Pull; and Hellmüthe asked me to give her Pull! His fez with the silver tassel had slipped from the bald head onto the rotten beak of the cute playmate. And when the sun also began to play, the enchantress whisked me away unnoticed down spiral staircases into a wide room. „I want to know your elder name.“ There, countless lights shone through thousand-edged windows. A drop of my heart's blood she wrested, between light and light it cleared, like a riddle. And Hellmüthe pondered.
When we were again on the country road, Peter said to me, „Pre-dark is thy blood; the sorceress may ponder after thy oldest name.“ And together we spoke the blue language in which heaven and earth tell each other. And before us the many fields, flooded with May rain! And we all three had the same wish - took off our shoes, took each other by the hand and waded through the warm drink.
THE SDORCERESS HELLMÜTHE SENDS US GIFTS
And when Peter saw my gloomy forehead, he was surprised, because the day wore a colourful funny dress and looked out of mischievous blue eyes. I thought of the sorceress Hellmüthe. „It vexes me that she pauses not before the shoe of thy foot, and her secret dreams weave feverish sea-nights about thee.“ But Peter smiled, „You are a very strict priestess.“ We sat down on a bench and above us hung countless branches with open white umbels. And Peter told us that this shrub was a stranger and came from the land of the wonder heavens. And he took his pen and from his coat pocket the great white roll of paper and wrote, but I looked up over the wide, green shoots of the meadows to the birds. Like silver whirlwinds they circled through the air, who could play like that! Suddenly the Indian boy of the sorceress Hellmüthe stood in front of us, he came flying through the air, the red-skinned bird with the colourful feather decoration in the shiny black hair, yellow, red and green feathers. And he threw himself down at our feet and he greeted Peter with all the hurrahs of his mother tongue. And the young wildling shouted, „Kulaia, wiwua, malibam!“ And from his belt he loosed a rosebush in blossom. „Lord, this is sent to you by Hellmüthe, the sorceress!“ Among the roses lay her proud ring of white opals, but in the stones wandered a painful fever-light. And to me she gave sandals of lion skin with silver buckles. And she hadn't forgotten Little Pull, my Pasha, either - the marabou was to continue to be his playmate. „But you must hold him by the reins, Master Pull, so that he doesn't get away from you like he did from me, the prowler, the lickspittle.“ Then he finally came striding thoughtfully across the meadow ditch. „He was lured by frog sirens“, said Peter, and we went out to meet him, and Little Pull immediately sat down on his soft feathery back and rode ahead through the secluded tree lanes, turning round in all directions, beaming with bliss, to see if we could see him too! And we came to a large bristly field; a flock of boys with red apple cheeks were flying their kites and Pull shot at the white and red kites with his gun until they were all dead. And the boys marvelled at the strange, big bird and kissed the brave little hunter man. Peter rejoiced and said, „Never close the gate behind him, illusion is the most faithful teacher and nature the widest schoolroom.“ And the whole earth laughed and flowers of sunshine fell from the sky. It was a glorious day! And Little Pull's eyes shone. And when it got dark, the marabou fell asleep at his feet, but I still had to sing him the little lamp song:
Lamp pamp ramp
Little comb little flame little lamb
Little snooze little snooze
Little mine little you
PETER AND MY CHILD
„Tomorrow I am going to the Rhineland“, said Peter to me, „what are you going to do for so long?“ - „I will walk with my child through the streets where there are sugar shops.“ And so we walked hand in hand through the warm air and quietly people passed each other. Only my little child jumped at my side like a young brown goat. First he asked me where Peter had gone, all alone, whether he might turn up the big storm again and all the roundabouts. Then we stopped in front of a sugar shop; chimney sweeps, horses, dogs made of chocolate and sugar stood in the shop window and all the red and the green and the yellow and the purple sweets always... And when we went home in the evening, a big cloud man with a long, fluffy cloud beard was hovering in the sky above, Pull recognised him at once - and a grey coat he wore - and nodded at us and took the moon out of a big cloud bag, it was red and round, like a thick raspberry sweet.
PETER AMONG THE WORKERS
We walked through the north-east of the city, where the spring cannot bloom and is suffocated between rows of houses. And in the courtyards the children play, the poor ones with old men's faces and crooked joints, but their little hearts are red and want to play and rejoice. They have laid beams across each other, it gives them great squeaking pleasure to fly so hopp-hopp into the sky. But when they saw Peter, they plopped down on the hard asphalt and Lottchen and Lieschen howled, they thought Peter was the bogeyman. I think he was proud of it. And in front of the entrance to the unadorned, grey house, Sennulf the fighter was waiting for us, he rushed towards Peter like a longing soul towards his God. But the assembled workers grumbled when they saw him with the blessing eyes and the shining beard. „We will not put ourselves off to the heaven of the dead, we want to have it already on earth like the rich!“ And I feared for Peter, for some of them had clenched their coarse hands and were threatening. But he said to me, „Only the secret ones strike at the cross, and they do not reach me.“ And under Sennulf's step the last curses evaporated. A commanding chastity emanated from his hot boyish form. „He is a dark birch“, and his words swirled over the freedom-hungry people, like early spring leaves before the storm. And at the end of the evening, individuals approached Peter, among them a poet craftsman, his name was Damm. And many young men had come because of the distinguished guest: Ludwill, the suspicious one with the sullen violet eyes, and his friend, the scrawny saints-painter with the bell-heart and Gorgonos the rigid, he had iridescent hair and a dead viper's mouth, and hesitated to approach the glorious one, and beside him stood his dancer, playing with his bracelet.
PETER TESTS MY PASSION.
(I lay a wreath of roses
On the grave of a prophet)
Two oxen are pulling our cart, and on the back of the pied one sits the peasant boy. He had given us a lift. „Come on, let's get out of here!“ We were tired from our hike and lay stretched out on the creaking, hard boards. And when we reached our destination, Peter handed the young servant a large bottle of cognac, „Give him a good swig to thank him!“ - „Who would that be, Mr. Pancras, of the strict gentlemen? In May, he drove with his stormy beard over the seed that was shooting up.“ Stern enough Peter looked; and he pointed to the Prophet's quiet garden; white mulberry trees and tragacanth bushes enclosed the domed temple, like a rushing wall. „The mountains of the highlands of Iran roamed his ancestors“, said Peter, „and he formed in the clouds the new man from the laughing noonday sun of his homeland. A divine sculptor indeed - and whoever wants to be reflected in the eye of his creation must already have wings like himself.“ I listened devoutly, for Peter's words sounded like a celebration. And he put the wreath of red roses around my arm, we had it tied in a nursery along the way, it still shone brightly after the joyful glow of noon. And he put a dagger in my belt - I didn't know why that happened. But when I entered the site through the golden gate, sweet vanities swelled towards me, instead of bitter, stiffened airs of thousand-year-old royal tombs - over their hems creeping cats, like light-lost slumbers. And I was overcome with disgust and anger when I saw the Prophet's cat, crouching on his dead heart, comfortable as on a silk cushion, her back had been the footstool of his tired feet. And when I returned to Peter, my body was burning, and he drew the dagger from my belt, which was bleeding. And since my hands showed no marks, he said, „You will prepare a throne for my memory.“
PETER‘S DESIRE
How the lawns are hedged in, they cannot spread, and the young waters are imprisoned by dams. „Similar to them I am, Peter, therefore I am grieved. But once on an autumn evening, you emptied with the youths foaming gold from the heavens. I lay apart behind the gardens, in the open meadow lap. And the storms called like wild birds, and my soul tore away all that was lame, and I sped, over thy head, over the seas of thy awe, through the rose kingdoms of thy mildness, till I rested on thy heart's summit. Thou drinker of God, I was once the drink of thy drunkenness!“
PETER REMINDS ME
„Now we have walked a starry life together“, Peter reminded me, „and you have never told me my name.“ And I said, „To every night cloud, to every day, I have told your name, and the sun has embroidered an altar to it, and once a lifetime people will surround me like walls, wanting to hear your name. And my voice will be an ocean! Your name is the name of the world!“ Peter nodded, and as I looked up at him, countless firmaments shone from his face and it was limitless, and I had to turn away to avoid going blind. But I felt my strength going loose, and I reared and stretched, and my eyes remained wide before all the majesty.
PETER LAYS A PEASANT‘S SON BACK IN THE EARTH
The sky glitters, like a ripe field of ears. Peter and I lie in the shade of a maple tree. Early autumn it is, and the airs are still simmering on the summer hearth. We're both thinking of the harvest festival, and I'm swaying in circles a thousand times like the jauntiest schunkel couple. And I have to imitate the fathers farmers as they blow their potato noses. „But pithy are these cursing plough-beasts, they have no soul to trouble them.“ Men came striding down the narrow country lane, carrying pitchforks, scythes and other implements on their backs, and a shaggy dog sniffed in front of them. „Well, you can swear quite well on this glorious evening, I'll give you that.“ The hardest had already opened up his big hayloft again, but the old wrinkled farmer threatened. „I'm coming for your ribs“, and then mysteriously, „That's one of the apostles.“ And he went on to say that „the one with the big beard could probably tell him“, pointing to his six sons, „where the seventh of the six is flitting around. He always had his head in front of him, he inherited it from his mother, she knew all the plants and all the birds, but she didn't want to know anything about the men and the women and her work was always so easy. The other night she crept in front of my bed, so close with the coffin story, she nodded like a saint and said, Gustav is dead. She said it once and it must be true.“ - „Indeed it must be true!“ insisted Peter, and the six sons hid behind the foliage of the maple tree. But he called them and went ahead of them. The sheaves stood upright like golden sacks, only some lay upturned on the bristly bow of grain. „Farmer, you are indeed a Croesus“, cried Peter, and the six sons suddenly made an effort to speak High German, and always in between like worn bagpipes the old man‘s voice, „Gustav, Gustav, my chicken!“ - „How his conscience is bothering him, he'll have his share of the blame.“ And as we entered the third field, the shaggy dog ran over some sheaf sacks, sniffed at the golden pale one, licked it, and wailed like a child. And Peter bent over the golden-pale one. „Peasant, here is your seventh son. Gold among the gold of autumn.“ And I asked Peter to awaken him. But he shook his head gravely. „Farmer, your son is dead“, and turning to the sixes, „Your brother was a poet.“ And the trembling breath that still shimmered over the dead man melted away. „Tell us, then, what is the name of the man with the long beard?“ Peter nodded defensively at me, but I told the brothers, „His name is the name of the world.“ And the old farmer with the bobble head said, „I told you at the beginning, he's not one of us.“ Peter asked for the dead boy, and left him lying under the departing day. But when darkness fell, he took him on his shoulder, covered his body with the collar of his cloak and walked down the hill of the village. Between the folds of his forehead the evening slept and I followed the great archangel, who under his wing sheltered the misunderstood one. After three days, Peter himself laid him back in the earth.
PETER AND THE EMERALD
In front of us the lake shimmered in splinters of green rays. We sit on a low mound of gravel and let the little things slip through our fingers. „Look what I found here!“ Peter exclaimed, and in his hand he held a transparent stone, examining its purity. „An emerald I have found! You lucky little rogue, I'll have it set for you in rays.“ But I made a suggestion to Peter that he would rather celebrate Solstice Day oak-meth-gold for his yield. And we hurried into the city. Peter had placed the precious stone between my two hands beforehand, carefully, as if in a jewellery box. Diadems and necklaces of coloured lights and lovely white pearl rings sparkled in the shop window and I timidly walked behind him into the jewellery shop and became self-conscious when the salesmen curiously asked us what we wanted. Triumphantly, however, Peter placed the precious stone on the surface of his hand. „Between pebbles I have found it, as I could not seal it more radiantly in the crown of a queen. But I will ask your lord himself if he will raise it.“ He had already seen it shining from afar, and he put it to a real test. It stood out beautifully against the brown velvet of his sleeve. „You bring me a precious jewel there, master, if you are satisfied with ten gold pieces, we would agree?“ Hunched behind the glass cabinets and counters, the salesmen tried to hide their laughter, while their master rejoiced anew at the fire of the emerald. And when we stood in front of the shop window again, Peter smilingly put the ten gold pieces into my hands, „for the oak‘s methgolden solstice day.“ But as I turned once more before the bend in the road, I saw the gallant goldsmith standing surrounded by cheerful faces at the door of his gold shop.
WE ARE CELEBRATING SOLSTICE DAY
Over the forest floor lies a woolly carpet of moss, embroidered with blue and red berries, and the summer crown has been put on by the last northern spring sapling. Men, half naked, drag barrels of meth on their broad necks and young boars on poles from Onit von Wetterwehe's hunts, and with spears and implements they plant our green hall. And Raba and Naiad, a black fairy and a blond fairy, sit at the edge of the forest and weave garments of ferns and silken grasses and make guirlands of oak leaves and wild roses and a mighty wreath for Peter-Wotan's head; his beard hangs over his angular chest like a sun-gear. And on my shoulder sits Little Pull, shouting loud colourful ideas to the younglings. Setting over brooks and hedges, they approach clad in bear skins. Antinous looks like an enchanted king of legends, his brother's curls bristle yellow and Onit's eyes hurry ahead like slender hunting dogs. And in front of the crowd of hornblowers strides Goldwarth, and on either side of him, scattered over the forest paths, leap dwarfs, carrying laughing elves in their arms, and Tobacco too is among them, but the little forest maidens balk at his embrace, he is impure and they all wear enchanting white morning silk. But impassively Gorgonos gazes at the stiff, his dancer in lemon butterfly atlas dances around him, precious rings glitter in his ears. And he is followed by the gentlemen, knights and knightesses on splendid steeds and the ruby-eyed pair of twins singing side by side in silver saddle. Weißgerte's eyelids are wide open in mystery. But Bugdahan's clumsy feet stumble over the hunched tree roots and beside him on the bull rides his father, the aged chief. His left arm hangs limply over the neck of the pithy animal. Enemy tribes held the dreaded warrior back as a scourge, tied to a coconut tree. And when he saw Peter-Wotan, he wept with delight. And Peter-Wotan asked him to bless me. And Goldwarth had brought his mother with him, who was of girlish grace, and Peter said to her, „Lady Emely, you are so very young, I think you had with your son laid in the cradle.“ And whenever Peter-Wotan raised his arms to storm, the fanfares blared. And the young men built altars of felled trunks and branches, and let up sacrificial smoke. And the elves played dancing around Petrus-Wotan, and the dwarfs were bantering. And I had to dance with the dancer in butterfly yellow, we were only breath. And in the mighty tankards the gold-dripping honey drink foamed and we ate the meat roasted on the spit. But Peter-Wotan missed Ben Ali Brom, the Jerusalemite, and Raba the chief's sister began to weep bitterly: Bugdahan had bruised his pale cheeks and plucked out his beard, because his fathers preferred dishonour to death in Jerusalem at that time. And the whole forest shook with us with merriment, and Gorgonos the Rigid laughed as the merriment of his dancer had never been able to laugh at him.
And when the day had passed, Peter-Wotan told us the tales of the North and prophesied and it came to pass: while one of his eyes was blotted out by darkness, the other filled and shone twofold, a midnight sun. And we all lay down around him on the soft forest floor and slept.
MY DREAM
In the morning, when Peter-Wotan and the knights and the noble ladies and their squires, the elves and the dwarfs lay in deep meth-slumber, my eyes also fell closed and I melted into all kinds of green-gold. And across the forest floor he lay stretched, an oak giant with a starry head of leaves. Giggling elves danced around him in twigs and plucked at his beard, and a horde of forest dwarfs had gathered on his chest and were fighting there, and a very small forest dwarf, wearing a little buttercup wound around its rosy stem, was hiding in Peter-Wotan's big ear, it was my Pull.
PETER AND THE JERUSALEMITES
A few days after the great feast of Wotan, Ben Ali Brom and the other Jerusalemites visited us, they had been back to their homeland and brought Peter and me gifts, ceremonial clothes and silk cloths, carved boxes and jewellery made of cedar wood and sugared red roses and other trinkets. And barefoot they came, as on pilgrimage. And Peter spoke many sunny words to them. But the young men hurried from the forest, having heard the wishes of the Jews, and fearing that Peter would fulfil them and go before them to the lost land of their fathers. But he answered them, „Whoever does not have his homeland within him, it grows out from under his feet.“ But the youngest of the strangers put his turban on me and a sadness came upon my life, like the cloud of gloom over the golden sky, and my hands longed to play with stars. „Behold, your friend's eyes are toward the east“, cried the Jerusalemites. And Peter wavered, but his favourites laughed at their divine cunning, and they secretly took their harps and played discords on them instead of the songs of lovely Zebaothhlands. And Peter scolded them. And we two went up into the mountains, and sat on the tops, as on the humps of great dromedaries. His beard was waving, a king's banner. And in the distance we saw the youths marching home with defiant heads, on their right and left walked the poets with turbans, their gestures told of miracles.
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 1
The next morning we were shrouded in clouds. And down at the foot of the mountains we saw the young men and the two girls Raba and Naiad. But Peter was playing with a little drop of dew, it glittered on the surface of his hand like a beetle made of mother-of-pearl; like a sweet little soul, a trembling dancer - always as quiet as a dream... a little golden foot floating daintily. „So it has had something of life, even if it was afraid of my cruel hand“, Peter comforted me, for it lay on the hard stones and was dead. But within the mountains it thundered to the blue Zeus-flashing veins of its brow. And around the mountains lay the weary youths and the two noble maidens, like young gods and goddesses of love.
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 2
Down by the lake on the rock face Goldwarth leaned and played his violin, the others had gone with the departing day. „He loves thee“, said Peter, „a lad is he in armour, and defies all thy storms.“ And the first star rose, like a silver trembling ring, and wound around the evening wind, the faithful violinist's longing, fragrant playing floated up to us. And then it was as if he suddenly sank into the lake.
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 3
Above us the evening redness bled, like a battlefield of fallen fighters, but the gentle night bent consolingly over the red, dying clouds, and its great golden eye sought God. „Why did he create himself shapeless, why did he do this?“ - „That he might not constrict and limit himself“, said Peter, „and spread himself over all things.“ And we ascended the cloud-steps, and Peter taught me the names of many stars, which shone great when he pointed to them. And I shouted bright cheers to the earth, my human garment blew away. And I became irrepressible when Peter wanted to climb to earth with me again. „I may go no more among the hearts.“ But he reminded me of Antinous and of his love for me and of the blond, rosy-haired rogues of Grimmer. „And what would the princely host say and lament Goldwarth's violin playing. A thousand hands must thou hold out to them, to the rose round the day, and long for corridors in the nights. Nothing shall remain unflowered in thee, if thou, like me, wilt drink life once stilled.“ And I grasped his hand and hid my face. God's wishes were the rejoicing boys, and like me a drop of his eternity. The meadows and woods slumbered in their greenness, behind them the starving city, a terrible set of peaked, grey houses. And Peter, pointing to the starving city, insisted, „She will not rend thee for my sake.“
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 4
A word went out in the city that Peter, with the boy (so they called me), had been struck by lightning in the night up on the mountains. And all who knew about him were gathered together, and many more who were eager to see him. And when they beheld him alive on the heights, they sounded great horns, and sent up rockets to heaven, which rang out among the blue in multicoloured stars. But Peter's countenance grew more and more wizened and averted, and it was as if it grew up into the sky, and his beard lifted above the world. And I was like a ring around his foot, which was like stone. And Peter spoke to the noisy ones, but I did not hear his words for the roar of his voice, but the people down by the waters listened spellbound, and the woods around them still rustled long and gloomily:
Evening rests on my brow,
I have not heard thee murmur, man,
Nor heard thy heart murmur
And is not thy heart the deepest shell of the earth -
O, how I dreamed for that earth tone,
I listened to the sound of thy joy,
By thy trembling I leaned and listened,
But dead is thy heart and earth-forgotten.
O, how I pondered for this earth tone...
The evening presses it coolly on my brow.
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 5
For three days and three nights already we sat up there, and sometimes flocks of wild geese flew past us, and storms interchanged themselves overhead; whither might they rush? And we felt no longing for the valley, but brown was our skin and dry our hair hung down over our shoulders and for rain we longed with the ground on which we sat. And Peter took off his grey cloak for the first time and I saw how narrow his shoulders were, but how mightily his head rose, like a shout from on high above the earth. „Who are you talking to, Peter?“ His lips moved softly towards the west. „I am talking to the most distant one who will guide me.“ And then he asked me, „What will you do when I walk on another star?“ And when Peter saw how sad I became, he bowed his head and told me dreams and tales from the cities of the Mother of Gold.
PETER AND I ON THE MOUNTAINS 6
I loved to hear about the lagoon city, my mother's favourite city, then fragrances rose up and lulled me in. Even her ancestors with the mark of David had been the guests of the Doges. „Sometimes methinks“, said Peter, „thou hast the same eyes of my deepest dream.“ On his heart it was written with my mother's starry letters, and the gondoliers tell it to the stranger passengers as they pass St. Mark's Square. In front of his dome stands St. Mark. The gold-veined marble palm at his feet fell from his hand as he stepped out of his niche and blessed the foreign signora. The sky hung like a blue velvet canopy over the roguish will of the city. „And the stars told it in the evening“, said Peter, „per omnia saecula saeculorum.“ And his gaze sank into a thousand depths. Hard folds enveloped his body and he was only a shape and no longer a body. I had seen him like this once before in my first bloom of blood, I had only felt him under a listening heartbeat between the tender night of silky skin. And I was afraid, he was a sorcerer, and I rushed down the mountains, my heart ahead of me, over the meadows and hedges, and a tower was my head, I could not find myself again - -
It was in the late early month of 1903 that fear drove me from the oldest man of earth.
THE YOUTHS FIND ME AT THE HEDGE
Before a hedge I lay, and the young men stood in a circle about me, whispering and wondering that Peter was not with me. And when I opened my eyes, I looked into pale faces. „Why is your hair dishevelled and your dress torn?“ And as I did not answer, Goldwarth put his velvet skirt under my head and bedded me and stroked my trembling hands. And Antinous wept. And Bugdahan the robber came and said to them, „She has fallen into gloom, her lips are tightly closed, which were open on the solstice day. Hasten to the shining one and tell him not to delay, for his friend's soul is sinking into the most fearful gorge.“ Meanwhile he went and fetched his sister Raba, who brought me a tea of healing miracle herbs of her native land, and laid a star of metal on my breast, and it banished all evil. And Naiad came, Antinous' sister, and her arms cradled me like silken May winds. But my blood remained numb and my heart blind. And the evening looked with veiled eye upon the earth, and at last we saw the young men approaching, who had gone to fetch Peter, but they brought him not, and their heads hung down like withered fruit upon their breasts.
GOLDWARTH COMFORTS ME IN MY MELANCHOLY
It has struck! And I recognised the voice of Peter, the thunderbolt did roll down the back of the world. And the young men rejoiced as they looked again into my eyes. Grey canvas hung spread like an umbrella over us, and logs of small boughs burned, for the night was naked and its breath cool! Naiad rose and reminded Antinous, „The sisters are anxious for us, and far is the way yet beyond the meadows.“ And Raba spoke of her anxious father, who could not sleep, „and already the early star sings its bell-song.“ And the white flag arms waved from Onit's von Wetterwehe castle. The princess Weißgerte stands before the gate and blasts her golden hunting horn. „Farewell, Tino, greet the shining one!“ And the other youths followed her. And when Bugdahan the robber saw that my look would not let them go, he said, „Girl, friendship is a frog word!“ But Goldwarth sat quietly by my side. „Have you no one to call?“ And he kissed my cheek and said, „I don't hear their calling before your silence!“ But Bugdahan warned him, looking painfully at us both. „O, youth, if your golden hair does not shine for you, it is bad for you!“ I felt myself again engulfed by tombs.
I SEARCHED FOR HIM
But when morning came and Goldwarth entered a strange garden to pluck me flowers, I pulled myself together and fled across the wide meadows. And I did not rest until I saw the mountains and him on the summit. I called, but it resounded muffled back, and I suddenly felt that I would never reach him again. Whenever I stood on the mountains, he walked in the valley, and sometimes I thought the valley walked around him, and when I walked over the sharp stones down the valley, he stood on top of the heights. And I looked for his voice, for my feet were already bleeding. At last in a late evening hour I heard my name called - and then, „Girl seeking me, my heart's deepest, there lies a hard walk behind me, from world to world, I have not far to go to the heavenly star.“ I listened for a long while longer, but ever more thickly the mist sank between us.
TWO GREAT ANGELS CARRY PETER INTO THE VALLEY
I sat by the water and wet my face and the little ripples played with my tired hands and feet. I had not seen Peter for days and I knew that he had landed on the blue beach. And two men asked me the next way to the city, they carried a stretcher and had serious, floating eyes. I guessed who they were carrying and bowed to the cloaked one. But when I saw the stretcher-bearers in the distance, I cried out so loud - and the lake stood still, the spring winds froze, and the sky fell on the world in wild tears. And I tore my robe and hid my fearful face in the earth.
AT NOON
And my heart was like a great coffin, but a tempest arose and rent the young leaves of the woods, and shook at the rocks, and their tops swayed terribly. And my hair flew like mourning veils over the lake, on and on, up to the roofs of the city. Then two arms wrapped themselves comfortingly around me, wearing torn chains - it was Sennulf the Fighter. From the dungeon window he had seen the men with the serious, floating eyes striding past and had recognised through the thick linen the sleeping face of the most glorious. And in the distance I saw the young men hurrying towards me, they had not suspected me at the foot of the mountains. And we all kissed each other on the mouth and wept.
IN THE EVENING
Two rosy-cheeked children came striding across the mountains along the lake in the evening. The boy carried a great big pencil and the girl a strong roll of paper and rejoiced at their beautiful find. I let them have both, for Peter loved the little ones.
I SLAY THE FOOL TOBACCO
On the morning of the funeral, Tobacco the Fool met me, he was grinning and his lips were grit-green. And in his hand he held a wreath, and instead of roses there were little candles among the blossoms. „Let Peter wear this around his neck for the pilgrimage to heaven, for a lunar eclipse is prophesied for this evening.“ The youths who had walked slowly along the path behind me had heard his loose speech and pondered, but they bowed silently before the wistful morning. But I walked on hastily, ahead of the green-mouthed man. I lured him behind the bushes, the sky burned fiercely red among the foliage, and I raised my fist, steeled by the weather glare, and slew him and buried him under earth and branches.
PETER‘S TOMB
And crowds came from all directions, men who knew Peter and those who had only seen him, and women who had met him - they all bore mourning. But we had put on our celebratory clothes, for Peter knew only to tell of the cheerful death that goes hand in hand with life. And his favourites stood on the mound in front of his tomb, and behind them Kraft the personal physician and Bugdahan with his aged father. And reverently on their knees lay the girls and boys who had danced dances around him, as around a stone primeval figure. And the cavaliers came and the princesses from Onit von Wetterwehe's banquet; Weißgerte and the twin princesses wept. And King Otteweihe had returned from the ocean, he had seen the foreboding cloud pass in the sky. And Gorgonos the Rigid was leaning on his dancer, and Ben Ali Brom and the other Jerusalemites were praying. And Ludwill and the saints-painter with the ringing simplicity and Damm the craftsman I recognised, and many more from the plain, grey house in the south-east of the city, who grumbled when they saw Peter. But I stood far from the grave. And always new wanderers, rich and poor on crutches, entered the silent garden with the great monuments, with the stone trunks that do not blossom and fade. And I thought: How many times it may have faded, since it bloomed so full of luminous life up to the sky. I had closed my eyes deeply, but I felt Raba's hand on mine and Naiad's warm breath. And Hellmüthe the enchantress held me close and searched anxiously in my features. I heard glass angels singing over the cool garden until his shape lay in the grave.
HIS NAME IS THE NAME OF THE WORLD
And when the last had left the cool garden and were walking home through the smiling weather from Peter, I took leave of the young men, „Shall not one of us accompany you?“ They knew I was drawn back to the throne of the mountains. And I stayed three days and three nights. During the nights I gazed at the greatest star, the blessed golden temple, and during the day I waited for the night. And only once did one approach the mountains (I did not know him), but when he found me, he asked to kiss my forehead because it bore his image. But I pointed to the mossy stone of the height on which Peter had rested so often. Before it the stranger fell down and prayed in the language of his homeland. And on the morning of the fourth day I went down the mountains and after me much heavy rubble and I turned once more the path to his grave. Under the white dream dress of the morning, a crowd of dancing demons circled his grave and they tried to hide themselves when they saw me. But I beckoned them to end their funeral ceremony, they were the faithful negro boys of Onit von Wetterwehe. On the grave the wreaths of the mourners were still blooming and the flowers of Raba and Naiad were full of tears and like a bed the wreath of his darlings - he wore a white silk bow - was fragrant on it in gold letters: To the rejoicing prophet! And I wrote in the earth:
His name is the name of the world.