I haven’t put on
my ears this morning
however
the world is stunning me,
its multitude of chairs
tied together,
its stock market crashes,
that grinding of teeth
amid new shoes
and banknotes.

I think, with bullish insistence,
on what side of life
has life ended up?

The leopard skin
is trading on the market
at the price of a diamond.

Down the helter-skelter of fire
slide the passionate kisses
of lovers 
falling into the spell of dark stars
with the cold days that wander
without a motherland
through tense cities
crammed with rubble.

No one whistles on the streets anymore.
And it seems embarrassing to long
for the calm blue sky
the yellow sound of wheat
the movement of water
in perfect circles
when a pebble
is thrown by a child
from the brightly-lit window of his room.

The pigeon returning
to the laid table
brings in its bloodied beak
a slap from the world.

How will I know from which direction
death will come.