The Verse of Alfred Lichtenstein Part 8

Period

The deserted streets flow in gleaming light Through my dull head. And hurt me.

I clearly feel that I shall soon slip away-- Th.o.r.n.y roses of my skin, don't p.r.i.c.k like that.

The night grows moldy. The poison light of the lampposts Has smeared it with green muck.

My heart is like a bag. My blood freezes.

The world is dying. My eyes collapse.

Reflecting upon a Human Lung in Alcohol

Without horror you devour dead flesh every day.

And dead blood is a sweet syrup for you.

Aren't you afraid?-- Indeed your earliest fathers also had, And before you awoke, Crammed thousands of the dead into your body.

However, how deeply frightened must the first person who killed An animal have been-- Because, when he saw that what roamed about, What could jump and cry out and in the moment of death Still could watch the beseeching world, In a moment Was not there.

In the Tuberculosis Sanitarium

Many sick people are walking in the garden Back and forth and lying in the porches.

Those who are the sickest burn with fever Every wretched day in the hot Grave of their beds.

Ah, Catholic sisters float Around wearily in black clothes.

Yesterday someone died. Today another can die.

In the city Fasching is being celebrated.

I would like to be able to play the difference On the piano.

Signs

The hour moves forward.

The mole moves out.

The moon emerges furiously.

The ocean heaves.

The child becomes an old man.

Animals pray and flee.

It's getting too hot for the trees.

The mind boggles.

The street dies.

The stinking sun stabs.

The air becomes scarce.

The heart breaks.

The frightened dog keeps its mouth shut.

The sky lies on its wrong side.

The tumult is too much for the stars.

The carriages take off.

The End

Like a white fungus, a lump of wind covers The green corpse of the lost world.

Frozen rivers form an iron dam Which holds together the rotten remains.

In a small rainy corner stands The last city in stony patience.

A dead skull lies--like a prayer-- Slanted on the body, the black penitential bench.

My End

Half hands hold my fate.

Where will it sink...

My steps are tiny, like those of a woman.

One evening lay waste all dreams.

Sleep does not come to me--

Song of Kuno Kohn's Longing

The folds of the sea crash like whips on my skin.

And the stars of the sea tear me apart.

The evening of the sea is one of screaming wounds for the lonely, But lovers find the good death of their day dreams...

Be there soon, you with pain in your eye, the sea hurts.

Be there soon, you who suffer in love, the sea is killing me.

Your hands are cool saints. Cover me with them, The sea is burning on me.

But why don't you help me! But help!... Cover me. Save me.

Cure me, friend and woman.

Mother... you--

Invasion

Decline already-- But that was quick...