ALL TOO RARELY DO WE UNDERSTAND SOMETHING Poem by Elke Erb

B is an intelligent, active, creative man.
If I don't start with myself, but one like him -

who is already in the habit of
ordering his own conditions/ suggestions/ ideas,

and certainly also channels the entrance (reception)
of others' statements -

(if I give my brain this little push, pop)
(yes, yes?:) If for once I don't start with myself,

but with such an active type,
he will, I realize,

hope that women will tell him
what he cannot grasp under his own direction,

and even lead him past the cliffs to dry land -
or, on the contrary, out to the open sea

(always risky: we run aground on others as on ourselves),

she, however, the gifted woman,
has her own latifundia, her scope and scape (nature) and
unbroken strength, a gifted woman's strength,

though subject to the random will-o-the-wisp
of (yes? yes?) expected commands -

then of course it can't work out
at least can't work out for them!

In spite of everything. Pity!