The hour has struck
Immediately we forget the time
and wish each other all the best
and boredom

that blessed can do everything
with the peaceful ticking
of grandma's clock without the hands
of an agenda that calls Action!

New Year, the realization
that time in ourselves never passes
In one body we are years
of experiences that are not closed

but do themselves well
on new discoveries and occasionally
set us thinking
about how it all comes together

My heart is awake,

a beehive crowded with dreams --


bringing me honey.

I am that woman
who takes a few steps and then
stands still in the wind
on her face, my skin

feels the world
new, the cherry trees
this walk to the store
on the corner around the corner

cars parked next to the sidewalk
are so much more than the view
of the windows all around, the gardens
chimneys and clouds, the wind

on my face, my heart
touched, pounding
in my throat, three times
I take a deep breath, only then

do I walk along the traffic
away from the cherry trees
to the store on the corner
around the corner

The year-end question:

How stupid will I be, with --


the majority?

After her reproach,

the street noise only slowly --


returns to his mind.

Prying loose a wire

without appropriate tools --


will cost you some blood.

He caresses her

tenderly in the moonlight --


at least her shadow.

The birds sing for me,

yes, they like me, and the hemp --


seeds next to my chair.

Come and visit us,

or do you prefer to wait --


until I am sick?

I'm looking for words

to understand my unease --


Oh, it is so vague!

A downpour, open

the door, then we all watch it --


not saying a word.

They are racing past

and they take it for granted --


that they're still alive.

They are ponderous,

real men, no, nothing boyish --


recognisable.

I'll resign, I will

no longer bear and downplay --


what keeps happening!

I know father well,

he is happy to see me --


though he doesn't show it.

Visitors are briefed

of how they should say thank you --


for the reception.

The elderly man

is between living and dead --


famously asleep.

You'll find pointlessness

when you search from the outside --


for any purpose.

I hesitate to

address him, so intensely --


wearily he smiles.

Left and right, voters

all are unfortunately --


against welfare cuts.

So you do love him,

you really love him, so much --


that you admit it?

Just become little

to really get great enough --


for humility.

Do you have to be

social to address anti-


social people? Well?

At parties I try

to leave soon, always longing --


for festivity!

Facts are like bags, they

only stand when you fill them --


with your affection.

The dying man gets

married, the ring binds his name --


to the newborn child.

At night, the houses

with their windows are yawning --


at me everywhere.

I don't spend money

on pleasures, because not one --


of them can be bought.

The universe holds

me, I hold the universe --


with this very thought.

Mother shakes her head,

she has a different view --


of my path in life.

A plunge in the night,

all I can see is a hat --


on the bridge railing.

Well, the usurer

was generous, nonetheless --


Was it his money?

In the sitting room

resides the old family --


in stately portraits.

I sometimes miss it:

a turban and a harp played --


for me by a boy.

The dog runs in, slips

on the linoleum floor --


and sniffs at my chair.

Do I hate my job?

No, not enough to quit and --


start doing nothing.

Think of the office

as a madhouse, then the rest --


is pretty normal.

A scientist fears

not knowing something, he flees --


into a safe niche.

Unexpected things

never startle me, I just --


respond too slowly.

Father, now waddling

from left to right, seems to walk --


on spherical feet.

In the hospital

lounge he takes a seat and falls --


asleep exhausted.

The civil servants

are angry with their colleagues:


so bureaucratic!

You are beautiful,

taste it! It is on my tongue --


it's kissing your lips.

A little flower,

delicate between sharp stones --


that's what life feels like.

Splashing, dashing waves

in the shoaled harbour: a ship --


it is sailing past.

A magpie inspects

what is trusted, what is new --


around my new house.

I have walked for hours

and I didn't see anyone --


yet there is a path.

Objects from the past,

just a few remaining friends --


nocturnal ground frost.

Out of fashion, out-dated
there's no help for it, so let me be
unattractive, rejected
because I show myself so conspicuously
and attract attention needlessly

That's how I'm seen. I am seen
and the whispering amuses me
although nobody talks to me

And you let me wait again
until the reception calls
that you are there

So I just sit here
looking out the window
I am used to it, there is nothing to see
at the back of the hotel
and it is getting dark

You always were impatient
My make-up took too long for you
and you sat angry in the car

but if I behaved exactly
the way you had conceived
you could really be sweet

You know my life and

with all your experience --


you show it to me.