Monday, February 5, 2018

January 31, 1998

It was a Saturday.  I didn't talk to Priya that day.  I don't know how she spent the afternoon but I bet she was studying.  She was the best in our class, partly due to her immense talent and intellect, and partly due to her dedication and hard work.

She highlighted one last term, made one last note in the margins, and closed her books for the last time.

Then she and Jennifer went for a late-night walk along the waterfront on Monterey Bay.  Priya had a cigarette and an espresso in her hand.  She and Jennifer stood in front of an empty row of parking spaces on the commercial fisherman's wharf.  They were in front of a parking meter which flashed "0 minutes left."

She was running away from him when he shot at her.  I hope that means she was running towards the end of the wharf, and that the last thing she saw was the moonlight shining on the ocean.

Her favorite poem was "Der Panther" by Rainer Maria Rilke.  

Der Panther

Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf –. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille –
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.

The Panther (English translation by Stephen Mitchell)
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

There is no good ending for a post like this.  You just suddenly realize that you're at the end.


Anonymous said...

Wir haben das Gedicht noch am Vortag gemeinsam rezitiert. Es war auch ein ungewöhnlich wärmer Wintertag. Werde es nie vergessen!

Melanie Gao said...

Ich auch nicht. Wir konnten vom Balkon die Bucht sehen.