I don’t read the obituaries

I don’t read the obituaries

the sun rises up redly

the flowers open wide

the compass has forgotten the North

and I’m waiting for you

for my battery to die on me

for the sprain that twists our words.

I’m a repaired sole at the shoemaker’s

a message on the machine

a smile that eyes evade

the world wants to stretch out our feelings

open doors wide

sweep every stone off the streets.

I don’t read the obituaries

or see people on the town

just the rustling of shopping bags

tired men wandering through malls

are lead into secret stalls to be battered by security

and we have no idea who’s right

who exists just for us

but the clock keeps keeping time

clicks its ticking fingers

second after second after second

our sneakers crunch on the new year’s lingering shards

shattered promises

the hollow trash can at the terminus

waits to be rummaged

visions cut short

bank accounts empty.

Soon the glass too is empty

our lips dry

you don’t need a reason to stare at your loved ones

to grab hold of every person who dares touch you

who dares to embrace you

and we are many

we don’t read the obituaries

or fear to live

or to open the newspaper at random

or to see that laughter is not the opposite of crying

that candles aren’t burned out by fire

that dreams never lose their meaning

even if they change.

Crumbs on the plate

as if you had left at last

and left this cracked leather behind you

and the plastic promises of better days

with someone else,

as if you had fallen into a loveless ravine

it can’t be rebuilt

life can never be caressed too much

or let slip through your fingers

without fighting for rent

for a shared dinner

during which your eyes know to stay silent

understand without speaking

and speak without understanding.

Translation: Kasper Salonen