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We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don’t cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
    what should I say on the shore of
    a small dead sea
    slowly the water fills
    the shapes of feet which have vanished

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