Enlightenedly steady,
I re-examine my mind,
Which has set out on an inner journey
To plan critical overturns.
What is man?
What am I?
What am I as man,
Travelling by train
Along outer (t)reasons?
Inside space
And maybe inside time,
Inside the train that is moving
Or maybe not moving,
Along northern coasts
Of over-aged Europe,
Who secretly rejuvenates herself,
Hundreds of writers
Revel, indifferently,
In the thought that
All this makes sense.
A wonderful aimless aim!
Searching for beauty
At the end of the century!
Clear road before us
And practical mind within us.
“Beauty, you start to make me tired!”
Even the Critique of Judgment
Cannot bridge the gaps.