I like early mornings
then I'm on my way with a cart
and every day I find something
      
that has been put on the pavements
of the city, a teapot
tools, books, mikado
an outdated radio
a kitchen chair and stuff

In the winter I rummage about in the pub
in the summer along the canals
A failed, sometimes beloved man

Till my true one and I
will occupy an empty house
with a teapot, books, mikado
tools, an outdated radio
a kitchen chair and stuff

It is windless
Plastic water in the canal
I'm having dinner with my mother

Then I linger at the crossroads
on the way home
My rooms are so empty

and you live nearby
I can go to you
and yet I can't

Behind the thin curtains
is the street, the city, alive
Nobody sees me

I'd like to read love letters
from you, confessions
that you never wrote to me

I keep thinking about that -
waiting for sleep, lying still
like a doll

True Love! Be happy

when you find it, be happy --


you're looking for it.

My love must not seem

like desperation, that would --


be a proposal.

I'm whirling, whirling

around my heart, there's a gate --


it's the gate to love.

I saw 'Les amants'

and then I walked home, longing --


to love as they did.

On vacation it is different
Then you are the man
I saw in you

then we do everything together
then we look together
viewed as together -

the outside of it
our two bodies
which are curiously scanned

through our clothes
We see it happen
and we see ourselves

as desirable persons
with ****** skin and lips
that laugh and whisper sweetly

I imagine it while
I wait for the kettle
Let's go on vacation

He is leaving me,

though I tried my best so much --


It was not enough.

Beyond the ideas

of we and they is a field --


where I wait for you.

Again no message

in a bottle, no true love --


beginning for me.