Most people walk past
At best they think: can't this be better
can't this colouring in boxes
also be done by a child -

practice a few times
to fill them in solidly, without scratches
and to stay within the lines, but did they
ever sit down for it themselves?

Dot they remember what it feels like?
That you are completely absorbed in it
that time stands still and everything
feels good, that you know

well, can't I? Yes
I can do this too!

From times of which I have no idea
whether I unconsciously know about it
this block has been broken in Carrara

What kind of blood is running
through its veins? What is it calling for
in my head? A piece of stone

remaining itself, impervious
to everything I try
to attribute to it

It just remains what it is
while it forms form thoughts in me
which I cut free from myself with chisels

Look! Art. Mine. Do you see
me? Only I do it like that
Look, I exist!

The stone is still a stone
but I am only here now
in the contact, after the contact

The stone created
my creative thought
the stone created me

for a while, for those who know
a little, in time at most my name
but the stone keeps creating

Mum is beautiful, and the garage
with my own name on it
which I can not read yet
and my bike on Queen's Day

the flower garlands on the cars
after a day at the seaside
with all the cousins

everything I make
and break down again, cranes
buildings and drawings

Mum says: you live
on Mount Olympus
because you are very special
and make everything beautiful