[it’ll all still be there]
I know for sure it’ll all still be there.
Even after lying in bed for too long
and losing track of ourselves in the night
and forgetting yesterday’s late-night film;
even after, briefly, the day before
yesterday everything vanished without
trace just as I wasn’t looking: sticks
and stones and all things nice and spice
from the cupboard, Mrs Hubbard, and my
own body’s scent and even knowing
nothing for sure, well, even that was still there.
A translation of Ulrike Almut Sandig’s poem, “[alles wird immer noch da sein]“.