gone again

full moon

wir sehen film projections
in schwarz und weiß, ein Dream of Life
und horses, horses, horses
in GLORIA and Jesus died
for somebody’s sins
// but not mine

wir trinken Rotwein, Viertelweise
kleben fest an altem Ranz
commend into the wind //
wir trinken in fremden Küchen
beneath the southern cross

es ist drei Uhr nachts
es ist vier Uhr nachts
he was less than a breath of shimmer and smoke
wir nächten in falschen Morgen
because the night belongs to strangers

in schlaflosen Träumen und weißen Kissen
ich wache allein über Federn und Stoffen
to where the feather flies //
und niemand kann ihn betreten
in 1959

es ist sechs Uhr morgens
die Straße ein heller
Dream of paths that cross //
an anderen Plätzen, nicht hier
in my Blakean year

der Weg ist ein fremder
die Fremden verblenden
the narrow archway, the layers, the scroll of –
looking for you I was

***

we’re watching film projections
in black and white
a Dream of Life
and horses, horses, horses
in GLORIA and Jesus died
for somebody’s sins
but not mine
we’re drinking red wine
quarter-wise
sticking to an old stench
commend into the wind
we drink in foreign kitchens
beneath the Southern Cross
it is three AM
it is four AM
he was less than a breath
of shimmer and smoke
we sleep in mistaken mornings
because the night belongs to strangers
in sleepless dreams and white-colored pillows
I alone guard the feathers and fabrics
to where the feather flies
and nobody must enter
in 1959
it is six in the morning
the streets are a pale
Dream of paths that cross
in other places, not here
in my Blakean year
the path is a strange one
and strangers rearrange us
the narrow archway
the layers
the scroll of –
looking for you I was

***
harlots im herzen, © Marianne Jungmaier, 2013
translation: Marianne Jungmaier

Categories: Poems