And that woman by now, perhaps, has seven children

But only a few minutes did that cloud blossom

And vanished in the wind when I looked up again.

THE RIVER SINGS PRAISES . . .

The river sings praises. Stars in the trees.

The smell of thyme and peppermint.

Our brows are freshened by a little breeze

We are the children, this is God’s present.

The grass is soft: the woman without bitterness

The lovely willows make everything rejoice:

Pleasure’s a certainty for those who will say yes.

Never again would you want to leave this place.

To M

That night you didn’t come I couldn’t sleep but went

Many times to the door and it

Was raining and I went back in again.

I didn’t know it then but I know it now:

That night it was already like the later nights

When you never came again and I couldn’t sleep

And was already scarcely waiting anymore

But many times went to the door

Because it was raining there and cool.

But after those nights and still in later years

Whenever the rain dripped I would hear your footsteps

Outside the door and in the wind your voice

And your crying on the cold corner because

You couldn’t get in.

For that reason I got up often in the night and

Went to the door and opened it and

Let in whoever had no home

And beggars came and whores, dossers

And all manner of folk.

Now many years have passed and even if

Rain still drips and the wind blows

If you came now in the night I know

I wouldn’t know you anymore, not your voice

And not your face because things have changed.

Yet I still hear footsteps in the wind

And weeping in the rain and that somebody

Wants to come in.

And I’ve a mind to go to the door

And open it and see has no one come—

But I don’t get up and I don’t go out

Don’t see

And nor does anybody come

ON THE WAY FROM AUGSBURG TO TIMBUKTU . . .

On the way from Augsburg to Timbuktu I met
Marianne Zoff

Who sang in the opera and looked like a Maori woman

And was beautiful in the grass, in bed too and also in her clothes she looked beautiful

And I slept with her and got her pregnant.

(In her sleep she rolled up like a hedgehog.

She was cunning like an animal but her actions were without cunning

When she laughed she nodded her head, looked up at
you aslant and pulled a blade of grass through her teeth

She walked for the joy of it

Once she said to me: Stoopid!

She was proud of her legs.

In her passion she had the appearance of scorched grass.)

BALAAM LAI IN HIS THIRTIETH YEAR . . .

Balaam Lai in his thirtieth year

Sailed one evening for Madagascar

Because of a longing to see Erna Susatte

Because it was four years since he’d