Jeanne Goosen – vertaal deur Tony Ullyatt
the morning comes with its tatters
the morning comes with its tatters
and its puzzles
there is nothing I am sure about
the lorry has stopped for the waste stuff
they congregate there, on the pavement
my shiny bags full of revulsion
paper and words
they are heaved shoulder high and carted away
there is nothing I want to save
the day glares; it will not rain
no, it will not rain today
the blind bird turns back to its shadow
he is still
despair has become more ferocious than the love song