POEM OF THE MOON

Like your face in a dark room
So exhausted and strange
Hangs the Moon in the black sky.
I saw her bright and white

And polished hard, like a piece of metal.
In the early blue afternoon,
Sometimes also pale and weak,
As if painted by a child
With poor colors,
Yet full of tenderness.

GÜNTER KUNERT, Germany, 1933
Translation: Germain Droogenbroodt – Stanley Barkan
From: “Erinnerung an einen Planeten“, Hanser Verlag