After all my heavy losses
Here and there
After all my ever-bleeding wounds
From the lost wars of my short life
I saw how fragile I was.
I sat and thought about what I should do
To rebuild the ruins of my afflicted soul.
I think I have to change my body parts
One by one,
Some of them, at least -
To earn the happy days to come.
I think I need
A new pump for my heart
To love as many women as I want.
I ´ll need a lung, washed out of tar and nicotine
To smell the streets after rain,
And nerves of steel
To bear the blows of fate,
And new blood, rich with red and white blood
To donate
The victims of the coming wars.
I need
A stomach that thankfully digests all I give it,
Sharp teeth to tear the barbarians
Coming down upon us from their snowy mountains,
A wide chest to be kind to treacherous friends,
Long limbs to win the Olympic Games,
And tender lips for burning kisses.
What would it matter if I were bald?
My remaining hairs
The wind will gently comb back.
My liver and spleen
I will leave as they are -
I really must spend as little as possible -
And my head will just have to find its way out of the trouble
The way it has always done.
In short: I have to be alive enough
To still look like myself after all.