Jute bags
Jute bags
Intended for
the potato crop
Which did
not happen during the war
We can use
them well
As body bags
Return
I have
Closed dead
eyelids
And yet
They looked
at me
Through the
eyelids
Through
eternity
Moist Furrow
The furrow
was still moist
From the
blood
They had
carried away
The corpse
After all
Words and
sand
I wrote
Illegible
words in the sand
Hoping perhaps
They would
petrify
Outlast a
part of eternity
Others wrote
Illegible
words on a stone
Which time
turned into sand
To be blown
away
In storms to
come
Perhaps in all of eternity may remain
The moment
In which the
words existed
Precision of
Oblivion
The wind
slants from the front
And drives
rain drops
Into my face
Good for oblivion
We compare
our sand watches
Time that
still remains
In the light
of the fierce thunderstorm
Good for oblivion
An erring
star behind Zenith
In a
lukewarm summer night
Following its
fate, falling down
Also good -
for oblivion
The drowned
man did not care
Whether his
lungs were tubercular
That too was
oblivion
I wanted to
describe the color of fever
But I do not
remember
Good as well
-:
Good for oblivion
Links to tie
original poems in German:
.
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