Moeru meisô

© Kazuko Shiraishi
De: Moeru meisô
Tokyo: Seichisha , 1986
Producción de Audio: 2001 M. Mechner, literaturWERKstatt berlin

Miracle

A moon ripens in the boughs of the poplar.
Dawn wounds the eyes of the fishermen,
their arms ripple —
 swifts of blood
struggling to fly out.
Dawn wounds their mouths.
A radio.
If they catch even one fish
there’s the possibility of a miracle.

Jesus walks on the water,
his nipples brushed by a holy wind,
the holy spirit
blows on his translucent grieving phallus.

The water has a life of its own.
Nuns, round stones,
step down to bathe among the doves.
The birds tend their nakedness.
The morning is pure.

A wine-stain spreads on the lake,
 morsels of bread float.
The morning is pure.

Translated by Tony Curtis and Theo Dorgan