I.
Silence of the water running, horses
dark, perhaps black
darkness there running, listen
if you hear it growing
inbetween the steps, see;
the bells tolling, in springtime
the fields existant in shadows
raining black horses ...
run
There is no other world to this word
they say
But just how many times must I say it
The attempt of saying the sky
it's intersection,
the communication
of water
That water also says
running, flowing, sprinting
springing
in springtime I am
once you
That's it.
II.
If this is such quiet, without hurry
the ice melts it's way in the trees
whispering the after-now
I am walking on the freezing ice
on top of, on my tracks:
There are fragments there
of the past made
bird-pieces, feathers
Who burned the bird?
There is no reply, perhaps burnt
then by everyone
and are we all then made
of paper and feathers
because we are burning
for we are everything now
Who gave us all this time?
Who put the bird to flight,
this paper phoenix?
III.
Quiet, quiet now.
In the city Elsewhere
the children without time
are silence.
all this speech
is only quickness
all this speech without innocence
only suddenness
the shadows which play on the wall
are yet fairy tales
Try then to see, seeing
in this, dark silence
like smiles along
which the ways merge.
IV.
All right I am quiet
as I write: "It is night".
at the edge of the water
the middle-most night
the three birds also alight
there the bronze tolling sings
my friend, my lover, you, the third one
in the center there the island
which might a dream be
always snowing, moving white
all across this on the other side
even if I would not awaken
as I watch you are
and there is only
water
dark, perhaps black
listen
if you hear it growing
inbetween the steps, try to see; black and white
the bells tolling,
in springtime.
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