Who really wants to

do something meaningful, must --


visit old people.

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?

Pull out the first, the second
and a few more
each day
      
Maybe you think
it's better to dye
and you try
      
some fancy colours and
you often look in the mirror
That's it
      
Until you get patches of emptiness
where a grey hair does not stand out
In the end you pull out the last one

My dear tree of birth,

we're just as old, just as bold --


but you're growing buds.

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

I am not ugly,

my ruptures and shortcomings --


are worth a lifetime.

The leaves are fragile,

at the slightest they come off --


caution! breathe softly!

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

Grandma is doing

her best to help, everywhere --


she stands in our way.

People are too short old
and too long young, they don't
become as wise as brownies

They have little profit
from the lessons they draw
from pain and pleasure, and

from the lessons they ignore
because they prefer to believe
in what the world promises

because they prefer to believe
it is within reach
and the prospect is worth it

to keep waiting
and I can't do anything about it
I'm just a rainbow

that is never there where you are
a gate on the horizon
where all the exits come together