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The Course of Empire: Reloaded.

After paintings by
Thomas Cole, 1836.

By KORNELIA KOEPSELL.

Translated by Kornelia Koepsell and Marielle Sutherland.

The Arcadian State

A lazy sunlight lay on every rock,
a lovely river lingered in its bed,
gardens flourished without time, the clock
was not invented, nor the internet.

No shaving of the genitals before,
no plucking, bleaching, going on a diet,
the petals blossomed fair from shore to shore,
Satan, Moloch, Beelzebub, all quiet.

But, o, those days of lull induced a dream:
creature built itself a genius,
a blown-up ego, puffed with self-esteem,
strange, swollen fury, turning coitus

into submission, devastating love.
Sorrow began to breed, and vicious glee.
Forlorn, a symbol was invented: dove,
and verses told against anxiety.

Consummation

Oppressors, tyrants, butchers on the stair,
ascending thrones and bawling: I am God,
which no one had the courage to declare
before, and everyone proclaims: I’m polyglot.

A marble King Kong with a foolish hat
shows his ass to Superman, a thin
Freddy Krueger skeleton is sad,
‘cause no one’s running scared, cocaine and gin

are gifts for baby dolls, a bomb, a gun
blows terrorists to heaven, only losers
aren’t on Tinder, everything is fun,
and gorgeous all the stars and influencers.

So sweet is life, so smotheringly nice,
it fleshes out a worm so imbecilic
that even Satan, far from Paradise,
utterly disgusted, won’t revere it.

Destruction

What about your feel-good guarantee,
when viruses are dancing in your blood,
when lava rages out in agony,
and seas are rising up in angry flood?

Heaven himself, in panic, might be willing
to open the Last Judgement while you sit
watching TV, a prophet speaks of killing
every heretic, every sort of wit.

You think reality is virtual?
It’s not. The mighty towers fall apart,
plastic chokes the Earth from pole to pole,
and still the shops accept your credit card?

Robots may be just the remedy,
they never beat their neighbours, push or shove,
they will teach you, honey, to be free
from hatred, madness, all the stupid stuff.

The Arcadian State

Das Paradies kennt keine Diktatur.
In tiefem Frieden strömte Überfluß
durch Gärten ohne Zeit, die Uhr
war nicht erfunden und der Netzanschluß.

Niemand dachte an Intimrasur,
keiner verlangte Bleaching vor dem Kuß.
Bezaubert wuchsen unter dem Azur
Eukalyptus, Beifuß, Hahnenfuß.

In ihren Träumen aber schuf die Kreatur
den ersten Gott: das Ich, den Genius.
Und sah erschrocken plötzlich die Natur
im Angriffs-Modus, sah im Koitus

die erste Unterwerfungs-Prozedur.
So kam der Zorn zur Welt und der Verdruß.
Man führte Krieg, man tat den Treueschwur,
man pries den König und den Daktylus.

Consummation

Erschüttert blicke ich auf hoheitsvoll
thronende Paläste, dort hat Gott
so viel an Konkurrenz, das ist schon toll.
Die Stadt der Städte gibt sich polyglott

und mixt die Toga mit dem Sport-Trikot.
Ein düsterer Apoll blickt ahnungsvoll
den Wettergott an, dessen Scharlachrot
sich im Wasser spiegelt, Karneol

und Amethyst – das will die Babydoll,
Playmates finden sich im Angebot.
Die Liebelei ist ein Gemeinschaftswohl
und wer nicht fummeln will, ist ein Idiot.

So süß ist dieses Leben, so kommod,
aus dem der Menschenwurm der Urzeit quoll,
daß die Vernunft verstummt. Gevatter Tod
hat längst vergessen, wen er holen soll.

Destruction

Erloschen ist die Wohlfühlgarantie,
wenn die Menschheit sich ihr Weltgericht
selber macht, die letzte Agonie.
Bis an die Tempelsäulen zischt die Gischt,

Wolken wallen auf in Hysterie,
der Himmel dampft und wettert, kracht und zischt.
Mystiker beschwören die Zahl Pi,
Magier des Teufels Angesicht.

Plötzlich sieht man: Die Reality
ist wenig virtuell, ein Schloß zerbricht
wirklich, wie die Macht der Dynastie.
Da hat der Hoffnungsschimmer kein Gewicht.

Wer braucht jetzt noch Chemotherapie
und auf dem Friedhof das Gedenk-Gedicht?
Alles kann der Mensch und kann es nicht,
so fern, so fern von Gottes Angesicht.


KORNELIA KOEPSELL was born in Giessen in 1955 and studied sociology and psychology at Frankfurt (Main) University, where she gained her PhD. For three years, she attended drawing courses at the Städel Academy of Fine Arts in Frankfurt and for several years, worked in university hospitals. She trained as a psychoanalyst and has been working for many years in own practice. Kornelia started writing poems in early childhood and about thirty years ago, this passion came into full bloom. Her poems have frequently been published in German literary magazines such as Akzente and Sinn und Form, and in the Austrian literary magazine Manuskripte. Kornelia has published four books, two with Edition Faust in Frankfurt/Main and two with Königshausen und Neumann in Würzburg and her poems have been included in the prestigious German anthology Jahrbuch der Lyrik.

MARIELLE SUTHERLAND was born in Hartlepool in 1976. She studied German at Oxford University and completed a PhD at University College London then taught German Studies at tertiary and English at secondary level before becoming a freelance translator in 2011. She holds a Diploma in Translation from the Institute of Linguists. Her publications include Rainer Maria Rilke: Selected Poems, co-translated with Susan Ranson (OUP, 2011); Dark Matter: Choreografien von Marco Goecke/Choreographies by Marco Goecke, ed. by Nadja Kadel (Königshausen und Neumann, 2016); Bauhaus Architecture 1919-1933, by Hans Engels (Prestel Verlag, 2018); Rulantica: Hidden Island, by Michaela Hanauer (Coppenrath Verlag, 2021) and translations in the literary journals Alchemy, InTranslation and No Man’s Land. Her archive of work in The Fortnightly Review is here. Marielle was awarded the Peirene Stevns Translation Prize 2023.

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