The labyrinth
Language is, believe me, you have my word,
a quarrel in which words beget others.
Lust and doubt live evermore in discord
with teasing by and amongst the lovers.
What’s going on? Birth, death, and life erased?
There I stand, no deeds, no finger lifted.
How’d I get to such an enchanted place?
Through the sieve of words the world is sifted.
Karl Kraus
Translated by Peter Winslow
Source text
Kraus, K. “Der Irrgarten.” Die Fackel. Nos. 443-444 (1916): 29. Print.