Also worlds that we don't have
and have not even experienced
we can cherish, skaters
on the canals of the eleven cities
and those of Amsterdam

We know it from photos and
paintings, fashion from grandma's time
pharaohs, Indians and dinosaurs
the splendour of microorganisms
and the blue ice of glaciers

where cows now graze, the love
on the faces of strangers
which I look at again and again
or a drawing of a little trip
with the three of us on a bicycle

We save it all
somewhere inside us, in the world
which we built ourselves and
where we feel more at home
than wherever

I hear my own voice
it echoes where I live
in the lap of the mountains

I can clump, I can swing
I can jump, I can sing
out loud to you

Hip hip hipperthepip
hop hop hopperthepop
lovelylovelylottelot

Are you coming knockertheknock
for another clickertheclack
with me this afternoon?

Hip hip hipperthepip
hop hop hopperthepop
lovelylovelylottelot

We clump and we jump
we swing and we sing
hopperthepop, hop, hop

Humans can be strong
like a bear, with a gun

or a cannon, and swim
like the fastest fish, with sails

or a motor, they can
even fly with large wings

that don't need to strike
and therefore are not real wings

An airplane is a thing
the true flyer is the Fly

All birds are jealous of it
because it wears the crown

of its name, credit
where credit is due: the Fly

The giantess likes to eat
cake pans, crunchy
fishshells with fishink

cheese boards and cell goblets
gland sweat, salad Russians
peachicks and bean runners

she sniffs up sausage smoke
and krautsauer, munches
on fruit stones

takes tomatoes for desert
with white cheese goats
and always hungers

for Himmel und Erde

The publication of this poem has not yet been authorised by the owner of the copyright on the original text

Across the road was the land
homesteads mixed farming
in acid air are the animals
clearing their throat, safe

behind the teeth of the dog
each of them servient
to a higher order
only the rooster didn't know that

I grew up at that fringe of the city
and in my absence the farms
have grown to giants
which have eaten the landscape

but they don't have an appetite
for hills and gorges, winding roads
choke them, so they leave
the Hinterland alive

Great-great-grand does sound old
but he was younger than you

fifteen years, the toughest
boy in the street

and I used to be the prettiest
the happiest too: a girl

born on my birthday
We were fine

with the money from Dutch John
the sweet boarder, my lover

when tough Louis left leaving
only his name for our little

Francis, your great-grand
dead as well

when your time began

Sometimes the moon is round
sometimes she is a boat
in which I can sail up

when I go to sleep, and then
you are sailing with me
to the sun

of the next day
We wave to the stars
to the great and the little

Bear and Sirius the Dog
and we sprinkle kisses
to the people

with sparkles in all colours
of very nice dreams
about having fun with friends

helping each other, living
together, because that's me
such a friend, your friend