Under the forest behind the village
around the tracks
ravens pick at a run-over carcass
dogs are mating there
the sun is buried under the soil
Under the forest behind the village
the sun sleeps in the tracks
in the evening, fire burns with laughter around them
around the tracks
dogs are mating
bound by heat into their laps
ravens tear at the run-over carcass
revived glass pieces of glasses
strip bones from light under the soil
on the bark of antlers, darkness hangs mistletoe balls
somewhere a child cries
/I would like to /I want you /
you walk along the tracks
whistling the Marseillaise
the wind blows into your eyes
a handful of empty time
around the tracks, herders with whips
gather cows
with wreaths of mushrooms on their heads
over the tracks, darkness trembles
into the jagged mouths of creatures
stake and stake between the wires and you
On the meadow lies a dead doe
and the forest sews a shroud from the morning
We had breakfast at our place