I'm poking at a paper clip
with a finger. I dismantle it
to a thin wire
and a flower appears.

For pinning up images. For the summer
when there'll be no more dust
drawings on the washed windows.

I forgot to talk
with the wind and poured myself some wine
in a clean glass. It's made
of flowers and at the bottom there's a stone.

You can smell the flowers from Paris
and yesterdays evening
when the city was closing
by the stairs.

There the monk was descending.
It looked like gliding
and we were prepared
to forget about the sin.

I gave some salami
to a pigeon because I
didn't have any crumbs.

Not until everything was quiet
we started walking on the water
connected with a tiny paperclip.

Translated by Ana Pepelnik and Zoë Skoulding