I went to Heinz the other day.
he runs the German Deli Shop,
which draws, just like a magnet,
the Krauts and others, magically.
And usually, for the drive home
I take a Laugenpretzel, salty,
and chew to keep me occupied
until the moment comes where I
alone at home, unpack, like presents
the bloodpudding and Harzer cheese,
and have a feast of reminiscence.
This time I drove the open Jeep,
a sudden shower came as a surprise,
it watered me inside and out,
and, like Poseidon, I prevailed,
arrived at home with limp and soggy pretzel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.