rjctr

She gives. So she entices me out of the igloo. So she chops relaxedly into nonsense. So she grapples with she wrests the deadlock. So she runs down her target, the four-colour fairy, the eye-stroking tip-strewing fairy who nippingly kneadingly if necessary in one movement tracks down inhibitions and licks them up.

— Paul Bogaert

Zwischen Stadt und Stadt Nach der Mauer der Abgrund Wind an den Schultern die fremde Hand am einsamen Fleisch Der Engel ich höre ihn noch Aber er hat kein Gesicht mehr als Deines das ich nicht kenne

Hapless Angel 2

Between city and city After the wall the abyss Wind at the shoulders The alien Hand at the lonely flesh The angel I still hear him Yet he has no face anymore but Yours that I don't know 

— Heiner Müller