Bridge over the Danube at Ingolstadt,
the Altmühl valley, slates at Solnhofen,
connections at Treuchtlingen —
and in between
forests in which autumn is a bonfire,
roads going out into pain,
clouds reminiscent of conversations,
flashing by villages built of my desire
to grow old in the vicinity of your voice.
Between departure times
the properties of our love are spread out.
There
the places of the world remain undivided,
not surveyed, and not findable.
The train, however,
barrels through Gunzenhausen and Ansbach,
the lunar landscapes of memory
— the summery song
of the frogs of Ornbau —
all in our wake.
Günter Eich
Angina Days: Selected Poems
Princeton University Press
Tradução de Michael Hoffman
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