Topic Tags:
0 Comments

Hotel Terminus, Vienna

Graeme Hetherington

Jan 01 2014

1 mins

Unspeakable’s the word for it,

The noise at dawn each time I stay

At Hotel Terminus, right in

 

The city’s heart. This mix of moan,

Roar whimper scream and sigh gulped down,

The manager is sure, as though

 

I’m half-witted for having asked,

Is nothing more than pigeons round

The trash bins in the kitchen yard.

 

But even so, from the eighth floor,

That otherwise is perfect for

A good night’s sleep, this sound, which as

 

It startles me awake and has

Me fighting to set my thoughts straight,

Can only come from souls in hell,

 

And is the same that I have heard

Underpinning Beethoven’s work

And Mozart’s music for the dead.

 

Graeme Hetherington

Comments

Join the Conversation

Already a member?

What to read next

  • Letters: Authentic Art and the Disgrace of Wilgie Mia

    Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.

    Aug 29 2024

    6 mins

  • Aboriginal Culture is Young, Not Ancient

    To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case

    Aug 20 2024

    23 mins

  • Pennies for the Shark

    A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten

    Aug 16 2024

    2 mins