The Cliffs in their folds
breathe calmly all as one
that's surprising for cliffs
with manifold folds
they have adjusted
their breath to that of the sun
as have the birches and forest pines
even our house a forest pupil

Evening breaks on the hill
before us the valley of grain
sways along yellow
so we've also taken this yellow in
We've set our bed out on
the lightstreaked porch

sit a long time in front of the house
listen and watch
all our wanderlusts gone numb
How near Germany is I think and its speakspeeching
just as mother is she stayed with us
went home again leaving me behind
with an orphaned space inside that I
keep empty as an echospace

Then from over the corndale
when the light crawls into
a dusk's hollow
the lightning bolts thunder close behind
flash bright straight as if from another world
surround the house

Translated from the German by Derk Wynand