what I wish
a lucid heart
for a darkened night
ears that stop crying
listen to the drowsy boat
song that once again
reaches lips

there is a train singing its way
through this muddy landscape
through this grey sky
there is a train singing
on either side
of the traversed
the heap
of white feathers
steadily growing

tongue what is your profession
reed in saxophone mouth
doubtful heart in red torso wound
tango living in blood-head

tongue what is your profession
tongue tell me distance is form
tongue remove

Translation by Willem Groenewegen