(translated by Hans Martin Enzensberger
in: “Poet Tables – The Poets of the Ruhr Valley”, Wombat Press, Canberra 2003)
O pain, where they are now all my year?
Have I that dreamed now or is true it?
Whether the memory has quite or whether it lies,
I probably slept and I do not know it.
Because I awaked now am and me am unknown
which me once ward understandable like the own hand.
Here in gel churches ward I largepulled.
Now me it is strangely as more would it stunk and lied.
Once with me played are banjaxed and old.
The field is turned up now, hammered the whole forest.
If not the old flowed Om like it flowed,
Indeed, then more would my misfortune completely intolerably largely.
Some, which I could not do white no more, as I was called:
Humans, alas, nevertheless times even now say, is not not completely beautifully unpleasant that?
The desire of past days – and now only this dirt:
That was not an impact in the water, it had a purpose –
Forever O pain!
O pain, which for a shit the young people do!
Not very honourable is their mind now.
Which they one ask in such a way are „as run it in such a way?“
Humans, if I me so survey, there is none gladly.
When dancing and when singing they are fully concerns,
no pig ever saw such deplorable crowd.
And: of because of mode, catch there not only from on,
because if you see then war you one to the gossips to.
Then still my brother-in-law sent a E-Mail from Rome to me;
Since then I am taken away, poignantly, nerved, broken,
of it wars I ulcers, was it me equivalent before probably,
there I now, instead of laughing, to howl to begin am.
Even the wild bird poignantly now my complaint,
which takes miracles it that I there of heart much desperate.
Which speech I dumb man now in my bad anger
and be appropriate for the whole pot with whimper in the ears:
Forever O pain!