The wind is passing through Poem by André Schmitz
The wind is passing through
The wind is passing through
(like an unknown creature that appears suddenly
in a gap on the horizon).
We invite it for a meal.
Its fiery tongue fascinates the children
its outfit disturbs the dresses.
One sees the wine shake in its veins.
One feels a new madness
circulate in the blood.
One talks to oneself in all sorts of languages.
One understands nothing
but is perhaps going to know everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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3/12/2026 1:04:31 AM # 1.0.0
truly a good poem/ moving, visceral,