of the bright yellow ginkgo
you left
against the backdrop of a sky
gray and cold
There were no words
and there is no other life
The hearth is now extinguished
the old house ruined
the vineyard abandoned
I am as usual far away
can only touch with thought
the ancient stones
With the ladle I collect
and pour the icy copper water
in this unquenchable thirst
I retrace the used roads
the silent rooms
the dusty sickle and spade
lonely in the corner
The past is irretrievable
and the present surprises us
always unprepared
I make plans for the future
like a cunning general
I put my thoughts in advance
on hypothetical battlefields
But tomorrow is changing
there is no certainty for us
