THE LUNAR HOUR by Franz Werfel, translated from the German by James Reidel

THE LUNAR HOUR

A soft well of light rises around me,

Fed by a day, faraway day, lit up.

A ghost breezily casts its image.

A moon spills through my corridor.

I open this door, and then

My foot meets something soft.

Then a cat hisses at me,

Which I kicked in the dark.

From her slit eyes burst

this wild light of enmity

Refracted from outer space.

As she assumes the look of a kitten,

She answers to my face likewise.

I raise my knotted walking stick

With a ponderously magic word—

No friend the cat departs

To curl up in her mistress’s slip.

Now, as the pain takes hold of me,

I light a small candle steadfast.

I walk with this tiny flame in hand,

Walk down the hallway railing—world.

Author and translator bios:

Franz Werfel (1890–1945) was not only the author of novels and novellas, he was a poet throughout his career and died as such, in exile at his desk, finalizing a collection of selected poems, which did not include the one rendered into English here for the first time.

James Reidel has translated hundreds of Werfel’s poems and placed many of them in print and online journals, including Mudlark. Reidel, who is also a poet, appears in the latest issue of Half Day Moon Journal.

© Franz Werfel. Translation © by James Reidel. All rights reserved.

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