Poem By Anja Kampmann

and no one knows how deep the lake is
over which you swim pyramids
of knowledge and far above the stars
softly shifting their answers but
on the shore someone stands and waits
with a simple cloth in which the grass
still clings this day
in the dark it has the colors of
your skin but in these skies
missiles are once more steered by warmth but
the thing with the cold sea concerns
no one. the borders lick
their wounds almost silently in the sand
but in the dark someone stands
and waits till you come.
Translated by Anne Posten

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[His flight does not lie in anatomy]

his flight does not lie in anatomy
between feathers and lighter bones
you sense a point where poplars
touch the sky what are swallows


I never saw so much snow
never so many tracts of land frozen so thick
cold and icestill like the land that turns away from us
sinks into an inner conversation


a heart failure of light
an overlap into yesterday
a river with plums on the banks
pears a market

About the Sea

The horizon is the concern here the
distance applying color the bright crackling
of surfaces of light and the spreading
of the light as it surges the sea


of worry in words far from which
we keep the bees so that they
are not carried to the deepest corner
of the maps the dreams are already reached