A large space - half dark... deadly... completely confused... Provocative!... delicate... dream-like... recesses, heavy doors And broad shadows, which lead to blue corners......
Many sick people are walking in the garden Back and forth and lying in the porches. Those who are the sickest burn with fever Every wretched day in the hot Grave of their beds....
Out of crooked clouds priceless things grow. Very tiny things suddenly become important. The sky is green and opaque Down there where the blind hills glide. Tattered trees stagger into the distance....
Decline already - But that was quick... Hardly a trace of rising - I have grown above the whole world. I have become the complete God And horribly awake. And now I must cast away death....
So many years I sought you, Mary - In gardens, rooms, cities and mountains, In dumps, whores, in acting schools, In sick beds and in the rooms of mad people,...
Every day, when it gets so very dark That I can read no more, I walk along the street singing, Look at every girl... Whether perhaps - who knows - Today of all days a miracle will take place:...
(for a picture) With all its branches a slender tree casts The shine of darkness around poor crosses. The earth stretches out painfully black and broad. A small moon slips slowly out of space....
The air is gray. Who knows something good for soot? Next to an ox grazing on the ground Stands an astonished deeply serious mountaineer. Soon there is a powerful downpour of rain....
City and beloved are far behind. I am so betrayed and alone. Slowly I move from one Leg to the other. Around me strange doors screech. I reach for dagger and gun. Ah, if I were only at home...
Your eyes are bright lands. Your looks are little birds, Handkerchiefs gently waving goodbye. In your smile I rest as though in bobbing boats. Your little stories are made of silk....
The heat sticks closely to the gun and to the hand. It pricks the eyes. Nothing remained forgotten. The troops stepped, half drunk, into the fire. The non-coms stand rigidly in front....
The yellow mother's eye burns up there. Everywhere night lies like a blue cloth. There is no question that I am sucking air. I am only a little picture book. Houses capture dreams of motley sleepers...
... And all the streets lie smooth and shining there. Only occasionally does a solid citizen hurry along them. A swell girl argues violently with Papa. A baker happens to be looking at the lovely sky....
Now of course I put on my straw hat. Rain has washed the evening blue. How the world glows! I look up piously, My hands deep in my trouser pockets. If the morning drives me home with screams and stones,...
You don't love me... I have never appealed to you... Was never your type... And my hard eyes annoy you, my darling... I'm too dark for you. And too coarse - And my white teeth have such a brutal shine...
In weary circles a sick fish hovers In a pond surrounded by grass. A tree leans against the sky - burned and bent. Yes... the family sits at a large table, Where they peck with their forks from the plates....
The deserted streets flow in gleaming light Through my dull head. And hurt me. I clearly feel that I shall soon slip away - Thorny roses of my skin, don't prick like that....
The troops are singing fervently, each for himself: God, protect me from misfortune, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, That no grenades strike me, That the bastards, our enemies,...