Indian Summer - Poem by Michael Krüger
Before we close up the house
the wine has to go down the drain
and the light leave the rooms.
Each word that is still uttered
is subject to approval.
And don't forget the garbage bags.
The friendly mirrors
in the entryway bow
with a sad expression.
And leave the key in the lock.
The arch awaits at the water's edge,
on the bow the dog snaps
at flies with panting tongue.
From now on the swallows will
mow the grass. Don't forget love
on the water we
already see the hills burning.
Translated by Bradley Schmidt
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