Hasso Krull Poems

Dawn has already broken. Already, dawn has broken.
Branches appear on the trees. Leaves appear on the branches.
Color appears on the leaves. Tone appears in the color.
Depth appears in the tone. Softening into the depth.
...

Right now, right now I would like to change
into something different. Can I? I don't know. I
listen to the angry blizzard, a train rattles the things
on the table, then is gone. Did I change
...

The night is full of holes. They flicker,
stiffen, reverberate, windows in the night,
windows in the sky, windows of existence
and windows with no need to exist.
...

There are holes in the road. There are holes in the earth.
Stepping forward I notice: there are holes in my boots.
Where there are holes, my socks show through,
I can see them, I know this because there are holes in my skull.
...

Father, can't you see that I'm burning?
That's what the little boy said to Freud.
But Freud had already dozed off. A candle
in his hand, his head sunken to his chest, he
...

All people are pregnant, said Diotima,
their bodies are pregnant, their souls are pregnant,
oh how they want to give birth with all their might.
Beauty is childbirth. Birth is beautiful.
...

An empty Greek restaurant. People
go by, Germans, Swabians and others,
music doesn't play here.
The name of the restaurant is MYTHOS.
...

Zhuangzi invites butterflies into his deathbed.
And they come. Though it is broad daylight,
moths and loopers come too,
swarms of them buzz gloomily,
...

"Oh!" "Please excuse me."
"Oh! Please excuse me." "Oh!"
"Please excuse me." "Why?"
"Please excuse me for biting you."
...

Vaikselt kohiseb meri, nagu voolaks jõgi,
see pole jõgi, see on meri, pilved voolavad
üle metsa, üle kadariku, voolavad nagu jõgi,
aga seal sees on auk, pilvedes on auk

ja sealt paistavad kibuvitsa valged õied,
ei, ei paista, nüüd ma valetasin, aga
ikkagi õitseb kibuvits, pilved voolavad
ja valetavad koos minuga, nii et maa on must,

nii et rohi on roheline, liiliad kollased,
pojengid punased, kõik selle valetasid pilved
ja niisiis ei olegi alla käinud valetamise kunst,
vastupidi, see on saavutanud enneolematu ulatuse,

see on pannud mere kohisema, linnud laulma,
punased pojengid õitsema, vaikselt kohiseb meri
ja see ei ole jõgi, jõgi on kõrgel üleval pilvedes,
need pilved valetavad, nagu jaksavad, aga nende sees on auk.
...