Night emigrated from the cheerless city,
leaving it with the exhausted days.
It took its moon and its stars and left.
The city was happy about the light
and stayed awake for days.
When it grew tired, it did not find the night
in which it might have been able to rest.
Day emigrated from the exhausted city,
leaving it with nothing.
It took its sun and its noise and left.
It looked for darkness
wherever it came,
for darkness that divides time.
Day grew tired and did not know
how and when and where it should sleep.
Somewhere, in a place where time had got lost, a little child came upon a rusty key with a few signs: a Siwa fortune-teller’s prophecy:
In the beginning of time, night sneaked away at dusk to take a bath in the sea. It fell in and got caught. The prize which darkness demanded to set it free was that the sun should always proceed to the sea’s table when dusk fell.
Vienna, 23 October 1993
(translated from German by Wolfgang Astelbauer.
”Aus dem Teppich meiner Schatten”, edition selene, Vienna 2002)