'Death creates an immediate synthesis of the life that has just ended,
and the light it reflects back onto that life
illuminates the essential moments and turns them
into mythical or morals acts outside of time.'

P. P. P.

perfects him, for beauty
is said to be mangy,

its line dividing,
becoming noose,

a jewel around
the neck of

everyone: Venetian
knife, flashing like

medallions left
at the scene of

the crimes. Sun

on Signor Giovanni,
on great leaps across
many empty squares,

may it fall

on his murderer's
corpse, bound outside

the city gate, on the wheel.

(For Kerstin Wagenschwanz)

Translated by Andrew Shields