A inspiration, unexpected;

I thought about it for a while

everything’s back to front.

Did I come up with something new?

A spring day. So it goes on,

in spite of all the stagnation it continues …

Life won’t let itself be destroyed

Really, what is it we’re doing?

Day three: time to think up something new.

Nothing comes to mind this morning.

Just let’s write something, letting it come

if you lose, you can also win.

You live under an empty sky on an earth

which soon will contain nothing of value.

You came here unexpectedly, and the departure

is a secret that They’ve guarded very well.

Just as the old man meditated on death,

we chose an existence under the sun

and dreams of eternal life,

Stretched out on this dilapidated balcony.

If tomorrow the black hole appears

In which everything – Obama, Putin and the rest – disappear,

Somewhere a pious mullah will still think, for one second,

That the Hidden One is now to be revealed

God’s Sign cannot stand the pigeons.

How dare they risk His glance?

There will be an earthquake like no other

If He listlessly sets His burden down.

Not a word since April. Is it over?

Or did time move on in silence?

Is there any point in going on?

Autumn is beginning. A new sound?

The winter came too early this year;

I’m far from ready.

The last gap in the ice slowly freezes over;

The birds observe it all.

The snow slows all the movements

of both body and mind. It hinders you.

Now you take no step without a thought,

Wary of unexplained paths

I spent a year with birds

And I came up with some verses about them.

Now I don’t remember anything, and I let it go.

But … what if the thrush were to sing, unexpectedly?

ANONYMUS

My name? I’ve never known it.

House or town? Long forgotten.

Actually, there’s no hope of finding it again:

The nameplate is worn away.

The bird of Time completes its round.

We’ve never found the time

to finish what had to be done.

Now, all those seconds are gone.

You wash away the old year with a little wine,

You hug each other in the hope of being happy.

But soon you’ll look back despondently:

how fine life was, back then!

You used to believe in God