Dreams tell a truth
that you don't want to know yet, but
on a divan, you can speak freely

to an outsider
who understands you
and explains your secrets

that everyone can see
and many whisper
shame upon it

Wealth is wasted, and
anyone who makes a comment about it will be hit
with doublespeak and disappear as penalty

for his brutal lies, his slander
and high treason; even the worst plagues
do not bring insight and humility

But sometimes, from the blue
the sense is common enough
and dreams come true

I think of America, the dream
of life giving you a smile
so exuberantly

the woman sings out
on the sign of Café the Laugh
Underneath it grows some moss

that takes life as it is
between the roof tiles on the sidewalk
It must

have been very stormy last night
but everyone was inside
and forgot the world

which is not as safe
as we wish, not as solid
as thought when it was built

Everywhere there grows some moss
that takes life as it is
also in America

In the eyes of the child
I read its thoughts on me
it guesses or may see
how dreamily I like to be

wilder than the widest sea
storming with the winds, I free-
ly cross the desert and the wilderness
mighty as a lioness
queenly great in word and deed

ready every day to meet
the toiling people's need
prepared to intervene
jumping over any ravine

to a place I want to be
finding of itself the new
questions in the eyes of a child
with which an adventure begins

This very night
you stroked a cow
in India
and I was there
while you ate cake
on Judith's birthday

With other arms you swam
to me on the little island
hidden in the reeds

I did see you
on the bench in the orchard
of grandma and grandad, telling
a family secret to your sister
She was wearing the dress with ruffles
and she was not interested

Over the trees you reached
her your sixth or seventh hand
to pick heath berries

Your heaviest arm was on me
and has woken me up
if I am awake now
with your arms everywhere
in life, in time, in me
dreaming this night

Waking up together
under the soft-coloured
life in the round window

The green youth
of the world garden
unfathomable deep

in the mirror
of an old well
filled with magic

above which we, here
below, are on a soft bed
floating in happiness

Waking up together
on the Dream Mountain
above the days

My perspective between the rusty leaves
is a dream house on the edge of the forest
picked up on the way, in the fall

Rich colours in the sun caress
the wooden skin flakes
of Mother Earth

and I am passing by
just a moment
a guest

Balloons sail over the sea
In my mind I sail along
Over flapping laundry
the world is more beautiful
than I know it can be

The shadows glide on
through the gate of the winds
the breath of sun and moon
the whispering of secrets
for those who want to catch them

The clock hand stands still
and shakes ahead until midnight
the day starts anew
in the arms of the sphinx

who preserves what happens
and without looking around
sees all with blind eyes
which sometimes blink at you
when clouds pass over

to open up your heart
and your mouth for an answer
to the questions that are no riddles
but puzzles that fit
when you sail over them

Hop, step and jump into the tram
long paces left right through the gangway
to the platform in the rear
there, my thoughts choose their own track


Who would not want to


do all one would want to


do if one could?


Bringing love generously
in the air, on land and at sea
rescuing people out of stormy weather

no abroad, being at home in every land
running through the breakers and the sand
and laughing a lot together

sunsummers without a plan or decision
just a warm wind, just the soft skin
of an initially unknown lover

At times my heavy head roars on
angrily and the days remain dark

at times they are clear as in my dreams
is the room at the top taken by me

and are wishing-clouds serving me
for solid ground under my feet