Today the world gets on my nerves.
People are overstrained
like buds on a cherry tree.

If I write down that I am alone
I mean that. I illustrate bad a poem
with music between my fingers.

All of a sudden the world is ok.
The slush was gone through the night
and sparrows are having breakfast.

I want another postcard
with a few lines about how it is
with other people in other towns.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Matthew Zapruder