A Tanka Sequence for Michael Ende
first light touching
the empty side of my bed...
on my headstone
A poet's life is lived
in the shadow of the Muse
my neighbor's cat
chasing a big mouse
across the room
I wait for bread crumbs
from the Muse's table
this humid day
the Muse dressed in a burqa
comes toward me
the sounds in my head
roar and fight like monsters
at high noon
my critic and the Muse
man-womaning...
I turn to Orlando,
the book my ex loves most
this summer night
my Muse's sexual rage
thundering
through many pages...
I write about loneliness
my ex and Muse
brimming over with love
for each other...
awake, autumn sunlight
on my coffee-stained desk
the Muse comes
as a mournful solace
despite passing
of the final deadline
I write rage against the light
nothing new
stuttering off the tongue
of my old Muse...
I look out the window
at leaves swirling in midair
my dying Muse
her whole life runs through my mind...
on the way home
I see nothing but
snowflakes and shadows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem