LETTERS FROM MANTUA
 

I

whether you want to or not ornateless in the grey sky
there arrive shed from many at least without shouting sentences from words
what do i say? thoughts which fear almost to say what they're thinking 
                                                                                                            as if this little was
so unasked for they're flying in front of you already one burden too much
still you keep wondering i think what keeps me imprisoned
tribute you're used to but to be looked at that fast in exceedingly fleeting fashion 
                                                                                                               what good is it?
the more i think about it the more transparent the reasons are getting
invisible almost and the more numerous the words necessary 
                                                                                              to speak about something
which always was air merely and now completely mirageless has turned into 
                                                                                    a dream of a  cloudless evening
this is how it is without any attempt at explanation
darker you are ever since and wise and already a trifling old enough 
                                                                              to recognize the foolishness thereof
do you notice? they examine you setting cunning traps listening and looking
at your lips and eyelids whether yes or no
but escaped i am long ago and know not where

nobody would read them i thought when i wrote them down now i copy them
for they are for nobody and flying to her who is not like that
and was not and will not be who is surrounded by flesh