this winter
brought over the city
a fine and cold rain

thunder through the quarrel corners
hatred seeds on the fronts
the uninvited’s apple chopped
by the chatterbox tongue
thread for the treasures’seekers

the dragon has killed the cranes and the mandarine ducks
are mere glass nicknacks

in a junk shop window
hungry for the sun
the seagulls peck the rays

thrown on the window panes
carnival costumes are walking
as the music of a gramophone
on the leaves’skeletons
synthetic peacock feathers
sprangles masks
mandolines and flutes
shaddows on a mythless coin

the morning star-on top of the steeple
reads the holy books
masses on water circles wake up
the sparrows in the ice castles
untouched by sympathy
stays knelt in the battle spittle
the warriors(in wierd clothes:outside males,inside females)
fascinated by death

*
the little boys and girls –they do not
know what they are-maybe sparrows
others think they are stags
most of them are sure they are warriors
the only child destined to the pain
from his stone tower
watches how the night struggles
to wrest the time its identity