Sunday, September 17, 2017

Death, Sand, and Oblivion

Jute bags 

Jute bags
Intended for the potato crop
Which did not happen during the war
We can use them well
As body bags


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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