Cars do not pass here
Not even a single dog
Among the dead cottages
The moonbeam maunders
There are no dreams here
And there are no dreamers
Balkan brass band
Sound the tattoo
The grass-hook is rusted
And the hammer is baggy
On unjunked verities
an usurer is sitting around
I ask with head down
If he has anything for sale
Take that - he says -
Here's a little viaticum
The puritan instinct and the need lead me
I dilacerate the corpses
And I scatter hearts in front of the feet
To show the road towards home to the blind
I don't believe the priest
who preach from his hip pocket
I don't believe the innocent
who plays the shell game
I don't believe in faith
Whereon they plaster the stars
Small Chinese angels
Cradle me in their lap
The puritan instinct and the need lead me
I dilacerate the corpses
And I scatter hearts in front of the feet
To show the road towards home to the blind