Fenland Poem by Marcel Beyer

Fenland, evidence, descent and breakage.
Deeper incisions, but we talk, among
nests, over the veins, the leechings, the polish.

Caterpillar nest, shafts, brick and cast.
Not terra firma, not walkable, but I talk, among
the weaker evidences of earth, talk
softened by geology, a lightened chest.

Wooden gates, nights, a firmer grasp. No
narration, no pores, no lights, nothing
left to draw, nothing to drill for, nothing left
to salvage, nothing that bleaches dry.

Translation: Michael Hofmann