what's following you?
I kiss your golden hair,
I kiss your soul so serene -
my artless sphynx,
my carefree
wretched girl.
what's following you?
You're puddled of the same clay,
and the same sun
ran bit by bit into you
The same wind
tossed you
along the road.
a molecular fate for the meek
We advance en masse.
We're sought after
like generous natives.
For a handful of beads
we leap about together,
we sell the old idols.
We scrape up gold sand,
we clear wise jungles,
we take off the old furs.
our hands breath separetely.
We broke all taboos
and we're still alive!
what's following us?
By the road they've left
heaps
of rusty cans,
celophane rolls,
empty bottles,
discarded amulets,
crumpled newspapers
and many useful objects.
We walk on
and on and on
our feet breathe separetely.
* * *
Across violet brooks we walk,
along bridges stretched tight,
along asphalt rivers,
to the call
of the iron horse.
We sleep under huge letters,
we eat to the rhythm,
and love on the way.
what's following us?
Whenever one looks back
he roars with laughter:
how
damned
funny
that there hangs in the museum
the thinned out break of the totem.
* * *
I kiss your golden hair,
I kiss your soul so serene.
You have no doubts, darling.
You've only weariness.
I would have carried you along
but I'm not
the strong warrior I was
who took upon his back
the sins of his tribe
and met all threats
with a wry grin.
Have a little patience,
my wary waif.
Where we go, they say,
there's rest for all.
For everyone there'll be
immense hunting grounds.
There, everyone is given
a ramshackle hut, a motley shirt,
a radio and a cask of whiskey.
There,
(and you may not believe it)
even the dogs
eat their fill.
our heads breathe separately
* * *
And we've been walking for so long.
I wish
someone could return from there
to tell us what he saw.
who returns from there?
They say so many chieftains
lead the sons of their tribe
in that direction.
who returns from there?
With grey heads
old people walk beside us
and push their grandchildren.
who returns from there?
Like signs of an important
but obscure language,
mounds rise along the road.