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Moon Fishing ...And they fished till a traveler passed and said, "Fools, to catch the moon you must let your women spread their hair on the water— ev… - Lisel Mueller
" "Moon Fishing
...And they fished till a traveler passed and said,
"Fools,
to catch the moon you must let your women
spread their hair on the water—
even the wiley moon will leap to that bobbing
net of shimmering threads..."
And they fished...
..."Fools,
...You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks
...what matter you lose your hearts to reel in your dream?"
And they fished...
..."Fools,
what good is the moon to a heartless man?
...get on your knees,
and drink as you never have,
...And they fished with their lips and tongues
until the water was gone
and the moon had slipped away
in the soft bottomless mud.
English
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About Lisel Mueller
(born Elisabeth Neumann, February 8, 1924 – February 21, 2020) was a German-born American poet, translator and academic teacher. Her family fled the Nazi regime, and she arrived in the U.S. in 1939 at the age of 15. She worked as a literary critic and taught at the , Elmhurst College and . She began writing poetry in the 1950s and published her first collection in 1965, after years of self-study. She received awards including the in 1981 and the for Poetry in 1997, as the only German-born poet awarded that prize.
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Additional quotes by Lisel Mueller
Alive Together
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you...
I might have been...
a woman without a name
weeping in Master's bed
for my husband, exchanged for a mule,
...I might have been stretched on a totem pole
to appease a vindictive god
or left, a useless girl-child,
to die on a cliff. ...
...I might have been you.
...The odds against us are endless,
our chances of being alive together
statistically nonexistent;
still we have made it, alive in a time
when rationalists with square hats
and hatless Jehovah's Witnesses
agree it is almost over,
alive with our lively children
who—but for endless ifs—
might have missed out...
January Afternoon,
With Billie Holiday
...The foolish old songs were right,
the heart does, actually, ache
from trying to push beyond
itself...
all that can be imagined;
space is not enough...
Desire has no object, it simply happens,
rises and floats, lighter than air—
but she knows that. ...
tomorrow is something she remembers.
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