My day's allotment of people
Papa, Nicki and me

At night we all hang by a thread
Don't worry, one day there'll be childhood

Above all no end
He who labors on our plane becomes a nothing

Table, chair, corner, slat
There must be more than that

One day we have a summer
One day a spring

We have just now
Just now we have

Played music
That was easy

Papa played the flute
Nicki held her finger to the glass

The sound, she says, goes into the finger
When it's all over

I put my finger to the glass
Not even summer do we have here

Translation: Susan Bernofsky