Let us sing of life

and of sorrow, let us toast --


to comfort ourselves.

Will it start soon? Or

has it already started?


Is it war right now?

Evening, I'm alone,

in and outside my cabin --


And it's getting dark.

We like it with you,

not sitting at home alone --


just the two of us.

She lies, no, she does not
she is sick, terribly sick
Let us pray for her
save her if she wants it
if she kneels for mercy

We appeal to her
conscience, her shame
and to the night
in which no one can live
who has known the light

She is hysterical
sedate her
cut it out
of her brain
or short-circuit it

Out-of-home placement
not for protection
but cast out
as a liar
among the righteous

Compulsion has no

perpetrators, just victims --


and accomplices.

The sound of the wind

and the water comforts me --


Tell him of my love!

Heart of my heart, soul

of my soul, show yourself, then --


I will be happy.

Why aren't there any

pills against amorousness:


Anti-Amorine?

Oh, so passionate

is the spring wind! It's blowing --


my skirts wide open.

The cat looks at me

with luminous eyes, asking --


she accepts my hand.

Women being watched

when they enter, nervously --


cling to their handbags.

Singing together

in a circle we pass on --


our breath wavily.

Everyone is still

asleep when I leave, the woods --


blur me step by step.

The pool is the gate

through which you can escape, if --


you are not afraid.

I plod on, with my

shadow on my back, flat and --


yet very heavy.

Life is short, with a

lot of evils. I keep that --


back from my children.

I'm interested

in religions, and God is --


interested too?

Death is put away,

or it is lost, forgotten --


again and again.

The table top is

sticky, the handle too, I'll --


better wash my hands?

He is back, being

a foreigner in the land --


he longed for so much.

I cough a little,

it sounds muffled, like a thump --


on a concrete wall.

The heart as a drum,

and the mouth as a trumpet:


that's a human life.

A grand scenery,

it makes my presence smaller --


and also my thoughts.

Love is a moon, it

changes from day to day, there's --


increase, there's decrease.

The flawless bellhop

carefully lays my suitcase --


down like a loved one.

I stand helpless in

the lake, where is the vulture --


that will rescue me?

Plenty of spotlights

under the bridge, spooky, what --


could have happened here?

There's nothing to eat in the kitchen
of Charles Frank Watchman
born here in this town

and deceased last winter
We polish the worktop
made from his gravestone

There is not a scratch on it
The coffin in which he lay
have we traded for

nothing, bacon and beans
Times are changing
but inequality is not

no matter how many marches
we walk to the Great Golden
White, Pink, or Blue House

Well, could a fifth wheel

ever be useful as an --


emergency wheel?

Don't stand there staring

at the horizon, but look --


where you are and go.

Look up, look beyond

the point where you stand, the stars --


will show you the way.

The moon draws an arc

through the lonely dreariness --


of my empty head.

They prefer to read

what they already know, as --


if that were the truth.

Isn't it allowed to

be angry, may I only --


hope for equity?

He is romantic,

in the monsoon he rains his --


kisses down on me.

But why do we live

in such a way that we feel --


we're lacking in love?

My love is leaving

as if I just don't exist --


Farewell, be happy.

Waking up, lightly

balancing between repose --


and my brand new day.

He asks if I can

cry nicely, the comforting --


will be better then.

I now pull back the curtain
to show you this painting
as a very special exception -
my wife, she died young

Since her death she only smiles
at me, you can see it
So sweet, passionately, she looks
Her eyes seem to be thirsty

also for the painter
that is quite clear
She was always very happy
to see others

Everything and everyone charmed
her and received her gratitude
What difference could I make?
And it got worse and worse

I had to restrain her
and then all smiles stopped
Now only in this painting
Only as a painting

We communicate

in the language of the earth:


rivers, roads and clouds.

Educational

books are easily praised, but --


they're hard to follow.

Authorities are

smart, they don't say anything --


they just ask questions.

Only with a stranger
the man I cared for
and with whom I spoke
as if it were him

after all those years
of waiting in vain
back in the city
of my dreams

where young people grow
old from their fate and
swallow their anger
hoping

for redemption, only there
with that man could I
say goodbye
to the waiting

Don't dream, only then

will you see the light, won't you --


be blinded by it.

Slow down now and wait

with me, as in your slumber --


love flares up fiercely.

The fire of my love

melts the ice of his deceit --


into many tears.

Saved stuff is a nest,

sticking densely around you --


to a dust depot.

People who don't have

money, will just have to pay –


with their doom and gloom.