almost I go
Or am I already gone
No, as I say
There is still a journey to go
Longer than the long linden avenue
It is more like flying over trees
no oceans but wide streams
that is
on the way to the other language
the most beautiful but unintelligible
that is a double story
I notice while doing
I write myself away
into the future, which
also lies behind me.
I won't interpret it any further
That's already let that bell ring
though a heavyweight
that sounds in the sky
Yes, only conceivable in thought
Or tangible in feeling
It is also like waiting for a past
that beckons permanently
a single soul knows what I mean
but I won't go there
under the blue roof, perhaps grey
I carry a symbolism in stone,
metaphorically speaking
I seek a bridge in the sky
with an illuminating sigh
blowing or in a rumour
it's about, I call it
the slow gait of
a shuffling toad
he knows no better
doesn't think either
is not a man after all, not even looking
for the know-it-all
his existence goes on
inch by inch
he goes as he should
his way is continuous
how lucky he is, he doesn't know any better
Channanja