Create me a world
of transparent-green fibers,
of dark-snowy skies,
and opal-smoky heights;
I will depart forever,
will slip between walls, between windows
into that narrow opening,
that house, behind which is sunrise.
I shall not at all miss
all I leave behind with a smile;
in a diadem of gold
I shall forget the axe marks;
and then, of course,
somewhere at the very end
I shall make myself briefly
come down to you and shout: “Time!”
But meanwhile I keep silent,
hiding cold hands in red spots,
sails on my back,
and a look of furious hunger …
I shall hear underground noises …
whisper of words on the wall:
“The film has been seen, has been dubbed, has been shot.”
Translated by Peter France