|
A
room, 4 x 4 cubits,
from corner to corner,
your tape measures it.
A teaspoon of air,
as for a sick person
To catch the breath
And
to keep the moment alive,
A jail that holds a victim prisoner
A house without rest.
A
little bed in the corner of the room - for rest
A window – to see outside
The jail is built – to smell freedom
But not to taste its flavour.
The
free air outside is forbidden
Its freshness is stolen from the people
All who desire to freshen their smothered breath
And
free themselves from the mouse trap
From House Arrest
From the House without rest.
The
door must be a closed one
You become mouldy
And want redemption
An
old and stale smell comes in
Your punishment is without parole
You want to take a step over the threshold.
Then
you feel a clamminess in your step
From sitting shut in a room 4 x 4 cubits.
A house without rest
A mouse trap to catch a victim.
Slowly,
and without protection,
The hours die,
Months and years die
Abandoned
in despair is the person
In the house without rest.
Human victim – buried alive.
The
gray shadows without end
Are frightening here!
The glare of the Devil
In shadowy flimsiness
On
the walls here, the gray ones, they frighten,
Thoughts are dulled in a dark mist,
And the desperation grows
A
mountainess nightmarish gloom
In the 4 cubit mouse trap
House without rest.
Night
echoes sound and ring a noise around
The heart longs for redemption
To drive away the nightmare
To
forget the captive self
For even one moment
The dumb, death hours in passing
The house without rest.
Translated
by Nathan Snyder
| 