A peaceful view, the vase with a rose
another day passed, the curtain closed
bye parrot, you never sung any song
bye parrot, shut your eyes, the night is long

In the bathroom mirror I see
both who I was and who I am: a double me
I won't get well, and never healthy again
in my mouth the taste of amalgam
I don't enjoy meals, just give me a pill

Is anyone living in the clock on the tower?
it keeps on striking, hour after hour
and I ask myself: when will it stand still?

The grass, I do remember
the grass where you once lay
just smiling at my smile
now time is passing by
but your flowers still convey
their smells throughout the day
Are you coming soon, coming soon?

     It's easy here, you'll have your wish
     and I'll prepare your favourite dish
     Are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

This peaceful it can be
a couple under a tree
the hopping and the caw
of a busy jackdaw
while a pink balloon goes high
up through the orange sky
Are you coming soon, coming soon?

     It's easy here, you'll have your wish
     and I'll prepare your favourite dish
     Are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

The house cleaned-up, the papers read
I weigh the phone and go to bed
there is not much I have to tell
but I can listen very well
     Are you coming soon
     are you coming soon
     are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

My thick white naked
leg up, crooked

weak the flesh of my poorly muscled arm
the middle finger touching the top
of the big toe, a circle

an only just made contact with myself

These goings and the weary
increasingly the weary

of it all, not knowing where
with whom and when, but
anyway ever unnoticed

a turning point, passed

Why have I suffered
woven all my tapestries
that have been disposed of
after a while
or otherwise, are decaying?

The cherry blossoms are falling
see how early they fall
they snow in the night
I would like to cry

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

Comthreads are swimming
across my eyes, my body
aches, I do not want anymore

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

I am the elephant
in the middle of my room
never mind, nothing is wrong!

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

The children are talking
softly past me, all together
at the same time

I have felt old today
the food squeezes my gut
and the words slip away
out of my torn nets

With some ifs and buts
I can still participate
calmly and comfortably
riding in a sidecar

without philosofolly
or showing the way
only a joke if it works
Inside, I am collapsing

I often go for a pee
but nothing comes out
of my head and my hands
I have a chat with the neighbours

For me, no thick enjoyment
between golden bars
or sitting between
fate-fellows, waiting

for attention and the future
of acquaintances and family
I'm just tired, so
you shouldn't want anything from me

Our daughter is concerned
if she has time
and as long as there is no need to

so I say enthusiastically
We went to the museum
     There I wondered

     is he thinking about life
     or the pigeon on the bare branch
     in the showcase with dry leaves?

     Is he perhaps dreaming
     of flying away?
     He just stood there

     as stuffed, his skin
     and lips are so white
     that I'm afraid

     to cook in the kitchen
     while he lays the table
     clumsily uncorks a bottle

     on his birthday as if
     he is doing it for the first time
     and then falls down

     without me hearing it
     a nice death
     they say

     that may well be
     but I already know
     that I'm not ready for it anyway

Nice mama, nice to hear
that you are doing well

When
my future no longer is conceivable
tomorrow a repetition of today
hour upon hour the same day

when
whens actually no longer
exist, everything needs
to be done once more

when
my breath weaker
my blood slowly
my bowels upset

when the very last question
is why
do I still long
for what I don't experience anymore

when my memories just
loiter in the time
when everything was new
seeming endless

now it is a scary idea
to long constantly
for what I miss

There is quite some wind
the woman on the corner pulls her dog

She comes back again
for the rest an empty street, no visitors yet

The children do not call
there is no need to, if they come

for a good time, not being too busy
And there is no point

in saying anything about it
Maybe they are on the way

Could I have forgotten something?
The cookies are ready

the curtains are washed
there is no stain on my dress

In the last dark
before dawn, I am wandering
through the city, after the party

the sky is clear
I have no idea
what I would want

The river gliding past
along the empty quays, the roads
without traffic, silence

around the ancient monuments
everything wiped up neatly
In the museum palaces

are naked people
of marble and paint
the princesses play cards

in the basement of the servants
my steps resound
in the floodlight of time

Ich war jung, ich würde

große Schönheit erleben
auf Händen des Erfolgs, jetzt
gehe ich auf Wolken

aus elektrischem Licht
Glitzer und Bewunderung
und feiere meinen Ruhestand

im Himmel der Partys
Stern unter den Sternen
lächelnde schöne Leute

Perlen, Botultox und Gel
in mittelgrauem Haar, unermüdlich
im Maß des Kupfers

niemand muss auf die Toilette
wir schweben über den Betten
in die die Verzweiflung herumwälzt

für die Tage und Jahre
der gescheiterten Leben, und wir tanzen
die Conga, weil wir gehen

nirgendwo hin

Während der Woche gehe ich abends
gelassen und verständnislos vorbei
an Fenstern von Menschen, die nicht wissen
dass sie verloren sind, dem Paar
das sich seit zehn Tagen küsst

überall wartende Leute und nirgendwo
finde ich die ganz große Schönheit
für die ich leben möchte, auf dem Weg
mein Wehmut zu teilen
und Erinnerungen an unsere Pläne

Wir alten Bekannten haben Spaß
mit gespielter Selbstgefälligkeit
einsam widmen wir uns dem herrlichen
Nichtstun, untereinander das Zentrum
von plaudernder Abwesenheit

Nach dem Abschied von den ersten Vögeln
fühle ich mich traurig und ungeeignet
für die Tage in hellem Licht
den Verfall unserer Leben außerhalb
der magischen Welt der Nacht

I have become old
and I can only play
with my thoughts
the rest is too stiff

But don't be mistaken
it is pleasant to feel
in today's warm wind
what it is like

to stand on the jetty
in a thin dress, waiting
without the need
to do anything

but enjoy, flapping
in the sun, while I
can see now how
it all will continue

My crush and the child
who embraces my leg
the same child next to me
with her own child

on her arm, our feet
in the surf, breathing
one love, three women
with wild hair

just like on the mountain
where I throw up the ashes
into the world, that's how I play
my life together

I've celebrated it
forty, fifty, sixty, the ten-
year steps of my life

have been preserved as memories
among the countless parties
of others, just like me

aging and remaining who they are
even though something starts
not to correspond in the mirror

When did that happen?
Was I present?
With my friends?

On forgotten in-between days?
When my hair thinned, my skin
weakened, and I became different

from how I feel – everywhere
where I touch myself
it is still familiar

I am ageless in life
with a deeply rooted pen
that wants to continue to enjoy

the taste of the deep
water, filtered through the earth
sunk from the present

Other people's wind blows
along your house and my house
with old songs that we hum
when sweeping the floor

We look at Déjà vu
once more and we dance
in thoughts, in real life
we are off the map

My breath is precious, every minute
twelve times pain and misery
twelve times the gentle wind
that conforms, that snuggles up

against the busy people
as a knowledge that we exist --
a reaching embrace
with always thinner kisses

I do know it is me
that woman I don't know
that friendly but strange

face, which is also on photos
with a wide mouth, with folds
crow's feet and high temples

that do not match, not with me
not with my hands, that eagerly
touch life

Only the eyes of others
are used to the mask
that I cannot take off

Even my own sister
is not surprised, she knows me
older than I am

The sky is burning, mists
push forward, the signs tilt down --
Everyone lives longer

than the world in which he grew up
He has to withdraw
or change

The watchtower is unmanned
dogs whine in the distance
This city may no longer exist

as it was, its theaters
have been declared unnecessary
The last players watch

but now it is real
they find it difficult to enjoy
the beauty of the downfall

that, since hundreds of generations
has been flattening glorious empires
to heroic stories

Who will, without self-interest
sing the praises of the good
that I have known?