Ordinariness of the Soul
In the morning mice scamper
over the head
over the floor of the head
shreds of conversations
scraps of a poem
the room’s muse
enters
in a blue apron
sweeps
such important guests
visit my master
well Heraclitus the Ephesian for example
or the prophet Isaiah
today no one rings
the master paces about impatiently
talks to himself
tears up innocent papers
in the evening goes out in an unknown direction
the muse unties her blue apron
rests her elbows on the window sill
leans out
waits
for her sergeant
with the red mustaches
(Translated by John and Bogdana Carpenter)
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