sun shines tonight

over every door and club remain closed

no people are to be seen

in this empty town only the fool

plays his flute for five hundred birds

and bears, deers and foxes 'round a fountain

finally returning to their real houses

from our wild human forest

where women dances with trees

and men then drinks them down in the moss

so far from every hotel balcony

we once more miss our window world of wooden peace

as pigeons stepped into mirrors as pigs