Iren Nigg est née en 1955 à Schaan, dans la Principauté de Liechtenstein. Elle a grandi à Schaan, où elle est allée à la Höchere Töchterschule St. Elisabeth. Elle a ensuite beaucoup voyagé avant d’étudier le journalisme à l’Institut für Journalistik und Kommunikation, University of Fribourg (en Suisse), de 1981 à 1984. Après ses études, elle a travaillé dans les médias et en relations publiques pour plusieurs journaux et associations sans but lucratif. De 1997 à 1999, elle a été chargée des relations publiques pour l’association Aktion Miteinander, qui promeut les droits des étrangers au Liechtenstein.
Iren Nigg a commencé à publier des textes courts dans des magazines littéraires en 1987. En 1988, elle a publié son premier livre Fieberzeit. Elle n’a ensuite pratiquement plus publié jusqu’en 2005, année de parution de 19 nouvelles dans une compilation de prose d’auteurs régionaux intitulée Land Sichten II. En 2006, Iren Nigg a publié son second livre, Man wortet sich die Orte selbst.
Translated by Marissa Grunes
Finally! I’ve seen her beauty. And have rescued her. For the first time! I’ve seen her beautiful… my whole life I’ve been paralysed with fear at her gaze. The finely-formed head…the warm brown eyes and then! the little tongue, quick as lightning! it’s whisked out. What did she want in the courtyard? on the stones! I took her and put her back in the grass. To coil oneself up like that – how she can do that! the little snake. I’ve never feared the big ones, on the contrary! once I had a young boa around my neck. She announced herself with a light pressure…it was utterly enthralling. And now the little one! finally seeing the truth: she’s so beautiful! so beautiful ~ and warm and brown and gleaming. To coil oneself up like that – how does she do that? like that, as a spiral, I’d go upwards next.
November does what’s expected of him – oh! it’s fog, how does he do that? and he darkens! the morning and the evening. Makes everything new, where is it? in fog, and in darkness it lies. How does he do that? seems to want to taunt us…to teach. Next he’ll throw snow outside! ah, in spring we’ll see. It will certainly have grown great by then…now acts the humus! of what’s past.
Language has her humor: nothing, she says, absolutely nothing! as if one could further increase nothing. Absolutely nothing! Somehow or other the little Me has vanished inside, smoothly. But the afternoon sun! the strand of cobweb ~ the light has been travelling along it.
Just living, you know. Upright, cheerful – and a person. I’m not a robot, am allowed to make mistakes, should I? just live! come on. To create a new name! soon it will be December. There will be a Christmas tree at Mother’s. But how the streets dazzle! with glitter – better to go on.
By the smoke over there I know the southerly wind. Oh! irrevocable…this day.
I believe in miracles, I saw the dog! in summer, it was saved. In the forest I hear its screaming, I was already on my way back, but I turned around and quickened my pace, pain! I felt, heard. I located it, it came from a tall pile of lumber. I spoke into it: Help! is on its way, hang in there! and I went running, cutting across the woods. Three men with hatchet and axe and saw got the blonde bitch out, they gave it their all and it took a whole hour! until she was safe and sound. She was bruised, exhausted…and recently she kissed my face, a homecoming…healed! the beautiful being. Three days she must’ve been imprisoned in the wood, luckily! there was rain. Irrevocable…this year; and finally! parting. I am guiltless, free.