red moon’s lips come close,
her fingers touching my house;
frozen stony cheeks.
being imprisoned
by the grassy river banks
– my beloved homeland
# 365
frosty morning light,
drawing hearts on window pane
in a dead silence
# 357
silver cloud wrapping
the lukewarm womb of the earth
like a priceless gift
# 356
it must look stunning
– for those who reappear from hell
the lively village
# 354
year comes to an end
breathless, prostrate like a plough
stuck into the ground
# 353
while shadow lengthens
the flower of soul appears,
flooded with silence
# 352
it’s not part of me
this ground, I mean, this shadow
– don’t belong to me
# 351
well-worn, in tatters
night comes across the first light,
– with such a courage
# 350
amazing thin light,
wind blows on the wet colors
– to the heart of things
# 349