from THE BEAUTY OF WATER
Crauss.
a world in a world, for now it’s summer,
and warped mirrors ring between the foamy banks;
twice the devotion, sandy spite,
silty, as quickly the castles are
built again friends find each other, anew.
crab and kid, cone and agony
fully alight: the memory thereof an eternal
nettle. the wave’s repulsion at the break
is the child’s expectant preparedness,
imaging an endless summer.
swarms of cosmic locusts
emerge from the skies. the train routes
have been interrupted by the demise
of the world. ultimately, the fog, disintegrating the ho
rizon, triumphs; everything will be alright.
a bit late
the mist has long since
lifted the rain from the ground,
the fish in the pond
have grown limbs
and the nereids
have decided
to remain non-human.
opening up to the sea
and fearing the worst.
crepusculum. from below the stars do shine; the strand
a crescent moon. in the overview: a sleeping city,
a dead-straight double-barrier in the twilight.
borderdogs barking, the night is alive. today,
memory is simply inhaling the salt in the air. the blood
has faded, warily.
and nevertheless, the fishermen know:
today there’ll be cabbage and potatoes,
for the wind’s blowing sideways.
but soon, they say, and you
believe it, there’ll be a catch again.
the wind, however, is just as it was before.
giant amber pastry
the child’s arms are too short;
the history of the sea, too long,
you can only see it in episodes.
saison onze: sunburnheat,
feverish sandcastlehansa.
and warped mirrors ring between the foamy banks;
twice the devotion, sandy spite,
silty, as quickly the castles are
built again friends find each other, anew.
crab and kid, cone and agony
fully alight: the memory thereof an eternal
nettle. the wave’s repulsion at the break
is the child’s expectant preparedness,
imaging an endless summer.
swarms of cosmic locusts
emerge from the skies. the train routes
have been interrupted by the demise
of the world. ultimately, the fog, disintegrating the ho
rizon, triumphs; everything will be alright.
a bit late
the mist has long since
lifted the rain from the ground,
the fish in the pond
have grown limbs
and the nereids
have decided
to remain non-human.
opening up to the sea
and fearing the worst.
crepusculum. from below the stars do shine; the strand
a crescent moon. in the overview: a sleeping city,
a dead-straight double-barrier in the twilight.
borderdogs barking, the night is alive. today,
memory is simply inhaling the salt in the air. the blood
has faded, warily.
and nevertheless, the fishermen know:
today there’ll be cabbage and potatoes,
for the wind’s blowing sideways.
but soon, they say, and you
believe it, there’ll be a catch again.
the wind, however, is just as it was before.
giant amber pastry
the child’s arms are too short;
the history of the sea, too long,
you can only see it in episodes.
saison onze: sunburnheat,
feverish sandcastlehansa.
translated from the German by Mark Kanak