We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don’t cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished