Friday: I wander the city, whose harmony
cannot be disturbed, not even by churches
next to brothels, graveyards next to solaria, a while ago
a storm passed this way at a confident pace, the branches
of old trees were swaying submissively like
teenage girls in porn flicks, I wander the city,
I run into poets, musicians, painters, children
of the '68 revolution, they're sitting in cafés
like walnuts inside a great big cake, sometimes
their only dream is for someone to give them
a seat on the tram, but they haven't the courage
to speak up and ask, I wander and listen to Mozart's
"Requiem", inwardly wondering who among us
is worthy of such a send-off, such an
honor. The weather clears, in the park a bony lady
reads the Bible, a little further on young couples pretend
they want to multiply. I come upon a statue of Kepler
and his first law: the orbit of every planet is
an ellipse. Where else will the sacred geometry
of this city lead me. O tourist from Poland,
open up, sit on the grass, look at the sparrows,
understand at last that a park is not a ravaged forest.

Graz, 2008

Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones