alongside the stream
the poplars hang headlong
into the sky

a school of fish
scatters suddenly, a cloud
in the summer night

a snowy plain
lit by moonlight
a long whistle of a train

at the window
my anger ceases—
blossoming chestnut

moonlight—
the river divides the forest . . .
into two nights

cawing crows—
I pull my head deeper
into the jacket

after the bombing . . .
the remains of the bridge
joined by the fog

autumn mist 
only the train’s whistle arrives 
at the third platform

nightingale song—
looking for a way home
that no longer exists

summer shower
intensifies the thud
of sheep legs

winter evening
a voice greeting a neighbor
sounds like my own

discarded shoe
slowly filled by snow—
a white foot

a boatman’s voice
along the river for a long time . . .
sultry evening

cut down forest—
behind a deer’s antlers
waxing moon

unexploded
yellow cluster bomb
dandelion field

odors of spring
a young bull’s horns
sharpened by the moon

air-raid alarm—
the traffic lights change
for no one

falling leaf . . .
its place filled 
by a star

spring sky—
at the moment of explosion
not a single star

blind track
along the rusty rails
time travels

garden work . . .
talking to each other
back to back

dark clouds
feather collectors run
loaded

subway
the staircase raises us
toward the rainy sky

first buds
swayed by the trains
according to the schedule

a cannon barrel
evaporating
spring rain

funeral—
faces of wet people
lit by lightning

fleeing the war
through a hole in my shoe
autumn rain

spring moon . . .
deeper into the night 
to the very cold

this house 
visited by my thoughts . . .
a quince blossom falls

a cracked 
shell razed by the fruit of . . . 
a wild chestnut