The moles’ vision

The moles’ vision

Do you believe in God?
Hmm – God… No,
I believe in the moles’ vision

on September nights when

half blind it sticks it head up from

its black catacombs,

sitting there with soil sticking to the hairs on its back

sanctimoniously resting on the edge of its burrow.

And the autumn sky inverted

cold and enormous over the fields

where the molehills blacken beneath the night dew

and the farmers’ curse linger in the air like

the smell of burnt grass.

Translation by Aileen Hennes