The expectation of tearing open the earth
when putting down a pen you say

resembles the expectation of the first men
across the Atlantic who disregarding any losses

set out like dogs to search for their master in the other
hemisphere It certainly doesn't resemble

the calm out here on this field
There follows our customary silence

The year collapses and the ground
is frozen in the tumble I remember

the vagueness of the weather forecast this morning
and feel on both hands while you let them go

the ostracism of the wind which only
carries hither hats and perhaps some old papers

Translated by Hans-Christian Oeser & Gabriel Rosenstock