In solitude
			Many miles from the next housing
			In the gleams of a beech wood fire,
			A plain, sharp mind absorbs His lines,
			Pursuing eyes of a spy mutilate the picture
			To issue, 'His quiet voice has never risen.'

			In desolation
			Secluded from recuperating sections
			In a muffled ward for the dying,
			A person's breath is softening, fainting,
			Toxic drugs freeze the face in agony
			To proof, 'His peace does not exist.'       

			(1990 english version
			2012 german translation)
			Udo Frentzen 

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