and no one knows how deep the lake is
over which you swim pyramids
of knowledge and far above the stars
softly shifting their answers but
on the shore someone stands and waits
with a simple cloth in which the grass
still clings this day
in the dark it has the colors of
your skin but in these skies
missiles are once more steered by warmth but
the thing with the cold sea concerns
no one. the borders lick
their wounds almost silently in the sand
but in the dark someone stands
and waits till you come.
Translated by Anne Posten