Strangers are safer,

to them I can openly --


tell all my worries.

A stranger falls, and

as he falls he is breaking --


in into my life.

It is empty on the Grand Square
The guide tells about the past
His words blow over

Birds above the roofs, white clouds
it takes a long time
until we go for a drink

In the café we cross over
in each other's language
to the streets where we live

and everything is the same
in a different way

We sing along to the songs
of our teenage years and toast
the world that is becoming ours

I stall for time, don't want to let go
of the guide, I'd like take him with me
and show him around my own city

let him see with my eyes
after seeing what he saw
not knowing what he was thinking

Look at the hippo,

then you'll cease to be amazed --


at human beings.

Mourning for Tibet,

gathered in the palace square --


somewhere far from home.

It's only a game,

therefore there are no losers --


only new chances.

I walk through the village
The sun shines, the wind blows
a little through my hair

The shutters are closed
with chinks thin as needles
with long narrow eyes
      
My shadow doesn't fall inside
anywhere, there are none
in the dim rooms
      
where the light drearily
obscures what is going on
and what the consequences are

of everyone's comings and goings
The peeping people press me
as compelling devils

out of their eyes
out of the chinks in their lives
The sun upon me is insufferable

To welcome vagrants

is difficult, you're afraid –


they'll smear the carpet.

I am bored, but the view
of the city at night
is beautiful, still

too hot to sleep or count
the skyscrapers, the stacks
of illuminated windows

My hand waves goodnight
Would anyone be looking at me?
I squint my eyes

to peeping telescopes
then I cast them down again
to read a little, insights

I already had, but can not rhyme
right now, with the world
that keeps me awake

If only I could sleep, dream
of light towers in the desert
without being there myself