I'm not waiting
for the ceiling
to fall on my head
and stir up dust
in the furnished sleep
of the years
All the doors
stay unlocked
the windows too
I gratefully open
to the thieves
who free me
of all things
In the empty room
the floor blurs
beneath my feet
into vastness
Before the decorated walls
can violently protest
this impasse
the roof above my head
flies away

Anglo American translation by Renate Latimer