Reconstruction Poem by Mirko Bonné

In the meantime
it was winter
and close

as the owl
which at night
edges towards the road

separating the house
from the edge of the field,
is the morning mist.

Doubts concerning the signs
in the soil
will pass.

And hollow tubes
made of red clay
connect us all.

And we know
the course of the water
that we drink.

The speed
and
the incline

from the lake in the valley
to the
hollow of the mouth.

Translated by Hans-Christian Oeser & Gabriel Rosenstock