Deafness to imperatives
is profundity in the wise man,
children and grandchildren
don't bother him,
don't alarm him.
To represent a particular outlook,
to act,
to travel hither and yon
are all signs of a world
that doesn't see clearly.
In front of my window
—wise man says—
is a valley
where shadows pool,
two poplars mark a path,
leading you will know where to.
Perspective
is another word for stasis:
you draw lines,
they ramify
like a creeper—
tendrils explode—
and they disburse crows in swarms
in the winter red of early dawns
then let them settle—
you will know—for whom.
Translated from German by Michael Hofmann
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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