My friend, we know nothing. We are strangers. Wherever we may live...---Mein Freund, wir wissen nichts. Wir sind Fremde. Wo auch immer wir leben ...---Mon ami, nous ne savons rien. Nous sommes des étrangers. Où que nous puissions vivre ...---Mi amigo, no sabemos nada. Somos desconocidos. Donde sea que podamos vivir ...

Storm

Last night
she
came,
livid,
night-blue,
wine-red:
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire---
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth.
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of the furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed;
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravagning pine trees
to make her bed.
She shook the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was silence:
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin ---
then,
before 
it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm,
put all the winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses,
all the ice whistling,
the wild
trees
groaning in misery
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow,
and when we were about to think
that the world was ending,
then,
rain, 
rain,
only
rain.
Show me your path
so that the chosen voice,
the stormy voice of a man
may join and sing your song with you:
Rain.