Translated by Marek Lugowski
Those who sailed out at dawn
but will never come back
they left their trace on the surface --
at such times into the deep of sea falls a shell
beautiful as a mouth turned to stone
those who walked the sandy trail
but did not make it to the shutters
although the roofs were already in sight
within a bell of air they have shelter
and those who orphaned only
a cold room a few books
an empty inkwell blank sheets --
indeed those did not die completely
their whisper wafts through thickets of wallpaper
in the ceiling a flat head lives on
of air water lime earth
a paradise was fixed for them their angel of wind
crumbles the body in hand
they will
carry upon the meadows of this here earth