Hans Raimund

Hans Raimund Poems

Hans Raimund Biography

Hans Raimund (* 5 April 1945 in Petzelsdorf near Purgstall an der Erlauf ) is an Austrian writer and translator . After his childhood and youth in Vienna with a visit to the Realgymnasium of the Theresian Academy, Raimund studied music (among others concerto piano with Friederike Karger and Richard Hauser), English and German Studies at the University of Vienna . From 1972 to 1984 he was an AHS teacher (among others at Theresianum in Vienna, at the Rudolf Steinerschule Wien / Mauer and at the Vienna International School). From 1982 (until the end of 1985), he was the pult (St. Pölten) in the editorial team of the Lower Austrian literary literature , and Klaus Sandler was the editor. From 1984 to 1997 he was a teacher in Duino near Trieste / Italy at the United World College of the Adriatic and a freelance writer and translator . Since 1997 he has lived as a freelance author and translator in Vienna and in Hochstraß near Lockenhaus in Burgenland . Raimund is married and has a daughter.)

The Best Poem Of Hans Raimund

Accounting

Hardly the blink of an eye:
the spring
your spring -

Let us give you credit:
you sought conversation
with trees, grass, stones
— the suspicion of animals intimidates you
you posed questions, but,
with habitual impatience,
did not wait for answers;
willingly you were distracted
by the singing electric wires
high above you on tall poles.

Your goal: to reach the water tower
beyond the silently resonating canyon.
Having hardly focussed on it,
you immediately let it out of your sight;
despondent as usual,
you settled for the land without paths.
You took notice of
the fountains in front of farmsteads,
and not before your tongue was rustling,
your brittle eyelids strained.

You had no eyes
for the blooming of genista on chalkland,
so impatiently awaited,
no ear
for the racket of birds
in the rows of weather slanted olive trees,
no nose
for the smoke of burning weeds,
suddenly welling up
over newly hoed gardens —

Apathetically as ever,
you stand in the middle of summer,
the summer of others.

Translated by David Chorlton
From: Hardly the Blink of an Eye. Edited by David Chorlton

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