Donald Berger
Epistle
Язык: английский
Переводы:
немецкий (Epistel) Epistle
I’m doing everything I can to make this letter
Fly out at you, friend, the mother
Of all friends. In time we go
To the store together thinking of what
To eat, and then we eat it, as if
A poem had flown up and torn its
Own metaphor off and thrown
It at us, hitting us, making us laugh.
I’m doing everything
A person could do in every last,
And light-hearted, situation.
These words might seem
Like coal still burning in the streets
Of the city where I just was,
Saying something. The day’s come
Out of its sheath of the right color,
Black, signaling darkness.
The cloud has like an orange
Stripe in it. My shower was
Just as it should be, relaxing
Me in the way I perceive you
Now, at noon, when I go out
And visit the choirmaster, to explain
In German, my absence.
