Translations

it's when reading them, I just have to imagine the excited writing of the one author and its openness (streams, thickets, wrestling dogs) - that's reading - there is no right translation, just absurd efforts to make it the same in main respects - oh noble boring iconoclast! get to the country, open mouthed, chew on miles of hay! don't you know as long as you're among these people of cities you'll smoke and burn coffee? the air is cold! we hate radio. turn it off and march outside at your leisure, sooner or later you'll break that guilt, look at rooks and starlings, stop trying to crease the grass so much in your fingers, they are not machines! just eat, open your mouth, eat! my throat is in my heart, or vice versa, listening to these fast sounds burbling thickly through my morn - it feels ticklish, crybabyish, I am somehow crippled and the blood isn't running regularly -