In the Tuberculosis Sanitarium
Many sick people are walking in the garden
Back and forth and lying in the porches.
Those who are the sickest burn with fever
Every wretched day in the hot
Grave of their beds.
Ah, Catholic sisters float
Around wearily in black clothes.
Yesterday someone died. Today another can die.
In the city Fasching is being celebrated.
I would like to be able to play the difference
On the piano.
Signs
The hour moves forward.
The mole moves out.
The moon emerges furiously.
The ocean heaves.
The child becomes an old man.
Animals pray and flee.
It's getting too hot for the trees.
The mind boggles.
The street dies.
The stinking sun stabs.
The air becomes scarce.
The heart breaks.
The frightened dog keeps its mouth shut.
The sky lies on its wrong side.
The tumult is too much for the stars.
The carriages take off.
The End
Like a white fungus, a lump of wind covers
The green corpse of the lost world.
Frozen rivers form an iron dam
Which holds together the rotten remains.
In a small rainy corner stands
The last city in stony patience.
A dead skull lies—like a prayer—
Slanted on the body, the black penitential bench.
My End
Half hands hold my fate.
Where will it sink…
My steps are tiny, like those of a woman.
One evening lay waste all dreams.
Sleep does not come to me—
Song of Kuno Kohn's Longing
The folds of the sea crash like whips on my skin.
And the stars of the sea tear me apart.
The evening of the sea is one of screaming wounds for the lonely,
But lovers find the good death of their day dreams…
Be there soon, you with pain in your eye, the sea hurts.
Be there soon, you who suffer in love, the sea is killing me.
Your hands are cool saints. Cover me with them,
The sea is burning on me.
But why don't you help me! But help!… Cover me. Save me.
Cure me, friend and woman.
Mother… you—