Prix Laurence - Bettembourg Prix Laurence 2019 - Luxembourg

Prix Laurence 2019

Weiland Julien - Memories of the past.

The war of his empire reached its peak but as his God-King stood unconvinced so did Tonauac. Nevertheless, it was valor that called the warrior to war’s shores. The land hidden away in the mists. “Can you believe that our ancestors fought here an eternity ago?” The enthusiastic voice of a young man was exclaiming next to him. His little brother, a cute image of a soldier. Barely of age.

“He should never have come here… Damned be our father for thinking his sons alike.” Tonauac was thinking, just staring into the empty space before him. The lower deck was filled with weapon crates and ammunition for the ballistae.

“Do you think I will claim many prisoners today? I want to become as glorious as you, Tonauac!” The young man’s voice trembled in anticipation of what lied ahead. “His armor is too big for him… He is looking ridiculous.”
“Could I still become a warrior and fight with the gods' fury? Like you! Father said it is never too late to follow your dr_” The young man’s excitement was quenched by the yelling of an enraged veteran: “Our father is a fool! Never has he achieved anything of note but preaching of how you can do everything you want… War is the reality we tread on. Everyone’s strength laid bare. You are not made for this.”

His younger brother’s countenance turned from jolly excitement to shock in the blink of an eye, this boy was easily intimidated, not the perk of a soldier. “But… But… Father said…” “Forget father! Forget home! If you wish to be anything like me then only the heat of battle is of any meaning to you. One kill after another, they matter not until the battle is won. Your foes’ blood on your hands. Your broken enemies in chains, dragged along.”

And so, silence reigned over the lower deck. The two brothers were all by themselves down here and the dawning invasion was drawing ever closer. Tonauac returned to his prayer, he always sought the divines' blessing before a fight. It was only his deity that mattered more than his king. His brother was imitating his every move, his every word in prayer. “Pathetic.” So, the warrior thought.


“I will make the gods proud today!” Tonauac’s eyes were shooting wide open. Did his brother just say that? “No!” A bloodcurdling roar in the liking of his feral deity left Tonauac’s throat. This was too much.
The warrior turned around, staring down at the young man who was crawling backwards in awe.

“Do you truly think you have what it takes to honor my GOD? Do you think you have what it takes to survive even one battle without dragging me down to keep you protected? Here is what you are going to do once we make landfall; You are going to hide on this very deck and you are going to return home a deserter and a coward, for you are nothing else. Do you understand me!?”

His brother was rendered speechless, his eyes filling up with tears. “He is weak.” Tonauac spoke his judgment in his thoughts. “An affront to the legacy of our empire. An insult to our gods!”
It were the last of his thoughts before the black pranks of fury closed around his young brother’s throat. It was as if the control of his body was no longer his own, yet it wasn’t the valorous pride of having the gods guiding him in combat, this was of a much darker nature. This was pure rage.
As his brother desperately gasped for air the much stronger man’s entire weight pinned him onto the wooden ground, his grip ever tightening. There was no escaping this fate.

A few more moments of this inner void passed until it was all over. The lifeless corpse of his brother hitting the deck before Tonauac. The warrior stood up, massaging his wrists. It was time to finish his prayers. They were almost there. “He’d have weakened us all. Weak links like this must be rooted out.” He knew he was left no choice. The fault was lying with their father. “My brother was no soldier and it sealed his fate. He’d have fallen in his first battle. It was merciful this way.”

There was no blood on his hands. There was no regret on his mind. “Tonauac! We are making landfall!” It echoed under deck.


ageschéckt den: 20:39 Wed, 27 February 2019 vum: Weiland Julien



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LiteraTour 2019

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D'Finallen vum Prix Laurence mat de Live-Liesungen am Café Littéraire:

12 - 17 Joer: 27. Abrëll, 14.30 Auer
18 - 26 Joer: 28. Abrëll, 14.30 Auer

Déi 3 Anthologien vum Prix Laurence 2015/16, 2017 an 2018.
Dir kritt se op der Gemeng Beetebuerg.


Kënnt am Abrëll 2019 eraus:
D'Anthologie vum Prix Laurence 2018.
Présentatioun: 23. Abrëll, um 18 Auer, an der Librairie Ernster (Stad).

*  *  *

Kleng Lecture, déi Iech vläicht weiderbréngt:


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Ingeborg Bachmann und Paul Celan
DVA, 2017


-  Nemesis
Roman, rororo, 2018


-  A Grace Paley Reader
Stories, essays, poetry

Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017

-  Manchmal kommen ...
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Englisch - Deutsch, mit den Gedichten
aus Jim Jarmuschs Film Paterson
Dieterich'sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 2017


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Gedichte. Fanbook. Hall of Fame.
edition suhrkamp, 2018


-  Die Live Butterfly Show
Gedichte, Hanser Berlin, 2018


-  Infiniment proche
Poésie, Gallimard, 2015


-  Femmes poètes de la Beat Generation
éditions Bruno Doucey, 2018


-  Picknick in der Nacht
Gedichte, Hanser, 2016


-  An den Ufern der Dunkelheit
Gedichte aus Palästina
Fischer Taschenbuch, 2013


-  Warum ich nicht im Netz bin
Gedichte und Prosa aus dem Krieg
Suhrkamp, 2016


-  Das Buch der klassischen Haiku
Hrsgb. Jan Ulenbrook
Reclam, 2018


-  Let Them Eat Chaos
Sollen sie doch Chaos fressen
Lyrik, edition suhrkamp, 2018

-  Hold Your Own
Gedichte, Suhrkamp, 2016

-  Worauf du dich verlassen kannst
Roman, Rowohlt, 2016


-  Fjorde
Lyrik, édition g. binsfeld, 2018


-  Fass mich an
Beats, Punchlines, Bitchmoves
édition g. binsfeld, 2017


-  Autopsie
Roman (op lëtz.), Ultimomondo, 2014

-  Abrasch
Poesie, éd. phi, 2013

(1957 - 2018)

-  Fuchs im Aufzug
Erzählungen, capybarabooks, 2017


-  Déi 20 kleng Bicher am "Schuber"
aus der Collectioun smart
Erzielungen, éd. Kremart, 2017

Auteuren 2019


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