German Idyll   

In this country,
your little feet,
touched the soil,
time and again,
until they brought me
to your arms.

Within evening shades
light arrives at your eyes,
and they are honey-brown.

Traces of light
bleach the white of the birch.
The sheep are silent since bygone times.

At the doorstep,
you leave your bundle.
You dust off porcelain utensils,
but can´t strip off their past.

From a conveyor belt,
shadows arrive:
juicy and hostile,
between them creep the spirits
of outcast gods.

Your feet cruise
over the parquet floor.
This night, we will overlap,
like falling feathers.

Anwar Al-Ghassani
In the train from Hamburg to Berlin,
Tuesday, August 03, 2004