The man I left behind
likes for example the ringing in the ear.
Likes for example the small cape
in the ringing in the ear.
Likes the smoldering smell of a matchlock.
And the sky is always
on this side of the man.
With a chest where stars stir like a wind
the man is ashamed of me like a medal.
When ringing begins in my ears
then abruptly
the man begins.
In the distance wheat sings to his hair,
and he firmly
looks around.
The man I left behind
likes for example a stuffed donkey.
Likes for example a red mane.
Likes for example a copper horseshoe.
Likes a sunset that resembles a gong.
As if making a whip meet the flesh,
he makes me meet the future.
When ringing begins in my ears
he is perhaps the man that begins
but when he begins abruptly
there's another man
that begins
and all the other men that revive at a stroke.
At the end of their blood-smelling line
there's a tower standing gently
like a lipstick.
Doubt my ear if you will.
Beyond the illusory ringing,
nevertheless, gently
the tower remains standing,
and the one who still firmly
believes in it
is the man
I left behind.