Blues Poem by Norbert Hummelt

the light broke through the glass blocks again and
played over the tiles, the parquet, showing how yawn-
ingly empty the room was, for there was not so much
as a bed in the house. nor did it echo as it did just so
recently, which was probably because no-one was
speaking; I went slowly through the empty rooms while
the light was breaking through glass blocks. we haven't
seen these glass blocks for a long time when there was
furniture here we didn't notice them it was a winter's day
and outside the sun was shining that didn't fit into my
scheme of things I went through the empty rooms again.
then on top of that the sound of birdsong came in from
outside which I was not quite able to ignore. the light
broke through the glass blocks again I could not fail to
see it so I thought it better to go back down to the base-
ment where there was still an old mirror hanging in the
hobby room. I could see eyes in it, but they were not only
mine. there were people dancing, they were behind me.
there were peanut flips on the lino. music was playing
and a record was jumping. I turned around, but saw no-
one dancing. no flips on the floor, only dust and silence
and light pushing weakly through the basement window.

translated by Catherine Hales