There is Still No Name for You
For anything more will we be able to die.
Close by heaven’s abyss kneels the last grace.
The stone embraces nakedness, again tries to take it.
Peace is complete to the depth, you can hear the night fall.
You have grown out of the superstition that life goes through everything.
We have looked you through and through and have not recognized you.
With your beauty you entered our marrow, seizing us all.
For you there is still no name: we would fear it all too much.
From their decaying material the patched homes run with tears.
We are theirs, pressing ever closer in brightness.
Our breath becomes harsh and divinely thin.
We’d dwell heroically in ignorance, like in a school exercise.