The Balloons That Are Colorless

From the agony of death, flocks of illusory balloons are flying away…
Those who today have raised their melody of axes in that storm-garden
I call them soldiers
Even grotesque tattoos have smiled in love
From where do these countless blue flies come flying
You�"at whose mere stretch of hand the stairway of the sky still descends
That you don’t know, how a statue stands

Bearing its own corpse upon its shoulder
Even the mute tattoo weeps deep inside the skin

Today I can only tell you this

The pet cat has now learned to kill mice
I have bought it magical teeth, a miraculous knife
How brightly the night smiles in the pupils of its eyes
And I, lying beside some stranger’s unfamiliar breath
Turn into a giant python