It's already dark, the time when it's quiet
in the street. Two hat-men come
to fetch me. They take me on both sides
and carry me stiff away
across the last bridge
the trembling water
Outside the city, we rest panting
at the abandoned quarry
They wipe the hatbrim-sweat
help me take off my coat, vest and shirt
in the pale moonlight
and carefully fold my clothes
I walk up and down until they beckon
and point me where to lie down
in the pit. They wrench my back
in the sharp stones
Back and forth they reach
the knife. My bare neck is long
In the silhouette of a house
in the sky, a window swings
open with a flicker
Two arms stretch wide
and I wonder where
the judge is whom I have never seen
Poem 2023 Amsterdam, 2019-01-11 The trial (Franz Kafka) Syria (ar-Raqqa in 2014) Book "Der Process" (1925, Franz Kafka), § 10 Collection:Short Sermons Keyword:Judgement Tribute to:Kafka, Franz