Twelve Ten, No. 3

Twelve Ten is a first step
an experiment
a playground.
It’s a space to look at
write and talk about
the world we live in
in all its myriad forms.


Twelve Ten ist ein Experiment
eine Spielwiese
in Wort und Schrift
in der für Beobachtungen
und Einsichten
wie es denn um uns bestellt ist
in dieser Welt in der wir leben
ein Platz gegeben wird.




Editor’s Note

Editor: Maya


It’s spring, finally. The sun is out, temperatures are rising, slowly but steadily, and the first flower-buds already opened to full bloom, carpeting parks and gardens with fresh new colours. With nature getting seasonally creative again, we thought it a good thing to make Twelve Ten, No. 3 an edition that is all about poetry, Elena Furlanetto’s in particular. Elena’s poems’ main theme is the blurring of boundaries between the love of individuals and the love of a place, a country. Some of the poems are written both in English and Italian, a doubling of words and meaning that adds to the simultaneity of the poems.


This edition’s photographs are once again from Julia, who travelled far recently, and was able to take snapshots of Australian nature and culture that often say more than first expected.


Twelve Ten, No. 3 is about taking your time to savour the moment. Enjoy.


And don’t give up.
Keep on writing.




Es ist endlich Frühling. Die Sonne scheint, es wird langsam aber stetig wärmer, die ersten Blüten sind schon aufgeblüht und bedecken Parks und Gärten mit frischen Farben. Da sich die Natur gerade wieder saisonal kreativ betätigt, dachten wir, dass es eine gute Idee wäre, wenn es in Twelve Ten, No. 3 um Poesie geht, in diesem Fall Elena Furlanettos. Elenas Gedichte befassen sich mit den fließenden Grenzen zwischen der Liebe zweier Personen und der Liebe zu einem Ort, wie auch einem Land. Ein paar der Gedichte wurden sowohl auf Englisch als auch auf Italienisch verfasst, was zu einer Dopplung der Bedeutungsebenen führt, und so eine schöne Gleichzeitigkeit hervorbringt.


Die Photographien sind auch dieses Mal von Julia, die kürzlich ziemlich weit gereist ist, und die Möglichkeit wahrgenommen hat, einige aussagekräftige Eindrücke von Australiens Natur und Kultur zu sammeln.


In Twelve Ten, No. 3 geht es darum sich Zeit zu nehmen. Viel Spaß dabei.


Und nicht aufgeben.
Schreibt weiter.











you are of no language
you remain untranslated
abhinaya has a mudra that means you
but cannot be danced
without breaking one’s wrist
you are a mark
a cut a scar
an absence-shaped muttermahl
on my left ankle
perhaps this is how my body expresses you
I surely wasn’t born with enough tears
and sweat and not enough skin to contain you
this body is a word
that begins with suspicion
ends with bewilderment
my questions may be misguided
but they certainly are less harmful
than your certainties


Abhinaya is a central element of classical Indian dance: 
it is he art of expressing the meaning of the text or music 
that is being performed through the use of body language, 
facial expressions, voice, costumes, or more generally 
the performer's capacity to communicate an emotion to the audience. 
A Mudra is a hand gesture that carries a particular meaning.









you summon me back like a lost thing
a runaway animal
I have been away I have been
praying on your body like a sacred stone
screening the surfaces of lakes for words
I found the word lie
a beautiful one and closest
to my soul
I brought it back
all these homes I lost
because I walked away
the truth is
they all had abandoned me much earlier
I am relieved that you’ll do the same
my body never wants to be alone
until it’s all it wants
and my mind is an ominous bird
mi rievochi come una cosa persa
un animale in fuga
sono stata via sono stata
a pregare sul tuo corpo come su di una pietra sacra
a raccogliere parole sulle spiagge dei laghi
ho trovato la parola rimani
dal suono bellissimo e caro alla mia anima
e te l’ho lasciata di fronte
alla porta
queste case le ho perdute
perché me ne sono andata
ma la verità
è che loro avevano perduto me molto tempo prima
e infondo mi conforta sapere che tu
farai altrettanto
non vuole mai star solo il mio corpo finché
è tutto ciò che vuole
e la mia mente è un uccello che reca
vaghi presagi





my love our house
is in ruins you left a civil war behind you
brother we had laid landscapes of light with dancers
that are now landscapes in flames
there are only broken
things in my belly
and strange beasts howling that I have
never known and claim to be my sisters
and I am an injustice to all creatures smiling
to all things illumined
lover the night has fallen but I cannot smell the winterflowers
that grew on you
the city without you is the same place as ever
and yet colors don’t remember their names
they don’t answer when summoned
things project more than one shadow
and it is always winter
amore la nostra casa
precipita ti sei lasciato dietro una guerra civile
fratello avevamo paesaggi di danza e luce
che sono ora paesaggi in fiamme
ho solo cose
rotte nel ventre
e strane bestie urlanti che non conosco
e dicono di essermi sorelle
e sono un’ingiustizia fatta ad ogni creatura benevola
ad ogni cosa illuminata
amore è giunta la notte ma non sento i fiori d’inverno
che ti crescevano addosso
la città senza te è la stessa di sempre eppure
i colori non ricordano il loro nome
non rispondono se interpellati
le cose proiettano più di un’ombra
ed è comunque inverno




you say I breathe too loud and write too often
and cry too loud and often
and speak unexpectedly
and when I am not there I think of you so
densely that doors slam for no reason
lamps swing and objects rattle and throw themselves
into the void beneath
believe me I see why this bothers you
but brother you ask too much you ask
for my annihilation and my transparency
and you see I cannot give up haunting you
because for years there was nothing and then there was you
and between nothing and you I lost my citizenship
my nationality my east
and my west
I lost the certainty of sundays and sunrises
my capacity to read the sign and the seas and the signs in the sea
[19022016 haunted house]









gentle beating heart of a nation
your citizens are so comfortable with freedom and liebe
they are incandescent beings walking into explosions
a wonder drives them that remains
in the flood of strangers
where is my right to love you
I might be overinterpreting but
you always say yes to me
my park-loving muse
giver of political flowers
what you ask
completely lacks coherence
it might be the accent or the fact that
your sentences are full of those dead-end streets
where I have felt so alive
and open-ended
[06032016 berlin]










summer is another of your 99 names
mine is a condition between fall and a mightier fall
between a rainfall and a heavier rainfall
you smile to me
I search my pocket for my true soul
finding that of another
in another life we surely were lovers
and now you are the imaginary dark body dancing next to me
in this inglorious wreckage of a city
you appeal to each one of my souls
your rhythms have seeped through all my nerve endings
but forgive me
I am such a monster I always
talk about myself
so tell me did you know
that the end of love is the end of winter
that the end of love is the edge of delusion
I sit and listen to a song you wrote
for someone else
I am also in a mood for you
does that make a difference
you were the exact shape of my ruin
you were the perfect storm
my soul dances with you now
somewhere underground
l’estate è un altro dei tuoi 99 nomi
il mio è una condizione a metà tra un autunno e un più vago autunno
tra un diluvio e diluvi più intensi
tu sorridi
io mi frugo le tasche cercandomi l’anima e trovando
quella di un altro
in un’altra vita eravamo amanti ne sono certa
le mie terminazioni nervose sono pervase dei tuoi ritmi
ma perdonami che mostro sono parlo solo di me dimmi dunque lo sapevi
che la fine dell’amore è la fine dell’inverno
che la fine dell’amore è l’orlo dell’illusione
mi siedo ad ascoltare una canzone che hai scritto per un’altra
sono anch’io in the mood for you
ma non fa differenza
eri della forma esatta della mia rovina
eri la tempesta perfetta
la mia anima ti balla contro
da qualche parte nel sottosuolo






In Brief

We hope you enjoyed our first poetry cycle here at von reuth. Twelve Ten, No. 4 will be published in 12 July 2016. If you are interested in contributing to No. 4, don’t hesitate to send us your suggestions by 12 June 2016 at:


Please remember to put Twelve Ten in your subject header.
We look forward to hearing from you!


Your von reuth Team



Wir hoffen sehr, dass unsere erste Gedichtedition euch gefallen hat. Twelve Ten, No. 4 wird am 12. Juli 2016 herausgegeben. Falls ihr gerne zu No. 4 beitragen möchtet schickt uns eure Vorschläge bis zum 12. Juni 2016 an folgende Emailadresse:


Bitte vergesst nicht Twelve Ten in die Betreffzeile einzutragen.
Traut euch, wir freuen uns!


Euer von reuth Team.



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