[Till a sail of the windmill comes loose] Poem by Erik Lindner

Till a sail of the windmill comes loose
Ivens waits on a chair for the wind

till the tip of a dune hollow crumbles
for the wind on a chair waits Ivens

till the train dissolves in a plume of smoke
Ivens on a chair waits for the wind

till the dust makes his eyes water
on a chair Ivens waits for the wind

till the sweat on his chin dries up
on a chair for the wind waits Ivens

till the beards of camels wave
till grains like fleas take flight

till a streamer gets caught in a kite line
till his stick falls down like a golf club

till the sand bubbles like foam in the surf
till the lid of his suitcase opens

on a chair on the hilltop Ivens points
there the wind sleeps in a desert cave.

translated in English by Paul Vincent