Transparent Poem by Marion Poschmann

Nostalgia for Eden. Stalin countered with the following slogan:
Let us decorate the homeland with gardens. Let us
completely strip the tree of knowledge. The beautiful wilderness
of the Rominten Moor now good or evil? Flurry from places where
dreams can come true at any moment. In Eden
snow is falling.

Becoming void. Enduring the void. Understanding the void.
No longer wanting to catch God in the act of creating the garden.
Mage and fool. Mountains whittled away. The garden city K.
with its destroyed and reopened forests
is all we can think of when falling asleep. We are
new people.

Travelogue in a pragmatic respect. A park
with no exit, its paths ending at the walls of the rich.
Is this that art that seems at the same time to be nature?
That park full of displaced persons, nostalgia for Eden.
The void and its transgressions. So speak, void, I cannot
see you.

Translation Catherine Hales