Frost fire
Toes deaden.
Breath smelts to lead.
Hot needles dance in fingers.
Backs turn to snails. Ears hum coffee.
The fire swaggers with logs
and with a shrivel a crack
a satisfaction your simmer heart
sips
from high in the sky a seething sleep.
—Translated from the German by Alisiair Noon
(Berlin, 1914)
Toes deaden.
Breath smelts to lead.
Hot needles dance in fingers.
Backs turn to snails. Ears hum coffee.
The fire swaggers with logs
and with a shrivel a crack
a satisfaction your simmer heart
sips
from high in the sky a seething sleep.
—Translated from the German by Alisiair Noon
(Berlin, 1914)
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