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.