Absentia lucis 2.0.19

translated by Nikoleta Telidi


We are in the grey mouth

of the winter’s dog.

 Yesterday, on the way back home,

 I saw a dead rabbit

  on the asphalt, rotting

 the pigeons of the square were tearing up its flesh.

 You, traveler,

 what do you feed yourself on your trip

 to the west?


Photo: A.P., Aachen, January 2014 | Verses: unknown poet

Παράθυρα Λογοτεχνίας για Νέους

Intellectum 10