R.S. Thomas

„Die Liebe klopft mit solch bereiften Fingern an.
Ich schau hinaus.
Im Schatten eines so riesigen Gottes
fröstle ich, unfähig,
das Kind wahrzunehmen vor lauter Weiss“

The White Tiger

It was beautiful as God
must be beautiful: glacial
eyes that had looked on
violence and come to terms
with it; a body too huge
and majestic for the cage in which
it had been put; up
and down in the shadow
of its own bulk it went
lifting, as it turned,
the crumpled flower of its face
to look into my own
face without seeing me. It
was the color of the moonlight
on snow and as quiet
as moonlight, but breathing
as you can imagine that
God breaths within the confines
of our definition of him, agonizing
over immensities that will not return.
(R.S.Thomas)

All pictures ©Achim Spengler

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