my veins are readied to become rails 

And the things to be dealt with

stand beyond the hazard-warning line of the spine 

on the platform of cold shoulder blades.

After that

the new day also rattles loudly into the body 

like an ageing skeletal train      

arriving at the next station  

and this panicky wakening   

makes all of these collide:

how they are, those who I love,

how the weather has shifted the colours of the city, 

surely everyone has returned home

those who were waited for all night long 

and also those who no one looks for 

surely they also managed to wake up

surely all the bread ovens have heated up

and all the dough has risen

surely I have my heart ready again 

to carry through one more new day

like a sleeping new-born baby 

into the distant din of the blacksmiths and I grasp

that you either must know precisely    

how to recount what lies behind the model life stories 

or you must know precisely 

how to keep quiet.