Pregnant riches trickling sweet,
Hot and soaken thinnest sheet,
Gasping in the brilliant glare;
My heart’s fires gasp and flare.
Caught in Life’s impudent lair,
A vulgar mist thickens the air.
It blurs my vision, steaming hot,
Like swollen fruits before they rot.
Humming restlessness in common,
For men and beast shall summon
Flies and bees and whirling feet
Through whizzing air above the street.
Only during sundown’s rest,
When frogs and bats fulfil their test,
The mother finds her forlorn sheep,
When thought sinks into ocean‘s sleep.
Night then turns its dreadful cloak,
Drinking deep with every croak.
Cool breeze flies from burning bars
Beneath our silver twinkling stars.
The summer shines in all its glory
Yet pale bone stirs in its sleep:
Tired leaves are His first reap;
They tell us of our mortal story.
Blazing flame on edge’s brink,
Even the brightest sun must shrink;
Its frantic howl by cold wind slain
And all its forging gone in vain.
Send a word from the final gate:
Until time ends is this our fate.
Hidden spirit changes breath,
For unborn life awaits in death.
(N)Euer Senf – mittelscharf, wenn’s geht