Elsa At The Mirror

It was in the very middle of our tragedy
And during the long day sitting at her mirror
She combed her golden hair I thought I saw
Her patient hands calming a great fire
It was in the very middle of our tragedy

And during the long day sitting at her mirror
She combed her golden hair and I would have said
It was in the very middle of our tragedy
That she was playing a tune for the harp unthinkingly
During all that long day sitting at her mirror

She combed her golden hair and I would have said
That she was wantonly torturing her memory
During all that long day sitting at her mirror
Rekindling the endless flowers of the great fire
Without saying what another in her place would have said

She was wantonly torturing her memory
It was in the very middle of our tragedy
The world was like that wretched mirror
The comb parted the fires of that shimmering silk
And those fires lit up the corners of my memory

It was in the very middle of our tragedy
As Thursday sits in the middle of the week

And during a long day sitting at her memory
From a distance she saw dying in her mirror

One by one the actors in our tragedy
Who are the best in this wretched world

And you know their names without my telling them
And the significance of the long evenings' flames

And of her gilded hair when she comes to sit down
And comb without words a great fire's reflection.

translation by Muriel Kittel