I go to the window
and become a beautiful evening
What does one do in heaven?
He who dies is no longer in the world
In heaven they eat ice cream
And if there is color?
Is color only a space one dreams of
I'm in the belly of Mama
God makes pizza there
When I come out there's noise
Mama screams
I screams
As for hell I'd rather not think of it
I'm fairly convinced it exists
In contrast to the many things
Nothingness is white in color
My mothers come from the monkey
I can't look at another banana
All this makes noise
And purgatory, I believe, is like dry-cleaning
Everything in the world dies
And if we live on, for example in heaven
it rains
Translation: Susan Bernofsky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem