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   LIVING


   Dried up by reproaches
   Drenched by doubts
   That's thinking people everywhere
   Deep in agitated fog
   North, south, east, west, the world now
   Is a heaped powder-magazine
   Ears pricked
   Eyes rubbed
   Man's head at noon's height
   Cannot find sleep
  
   Chapel bells
   At half past four's new morning
   Drive off the pigeons
   And from the woods
   Evoke
   Heart searing childhood scenes
   Fallen here, mother gone,
   Left with this dread of being alone
   Dried up in flames
   Time low-sunk
   Wedged between men, living this loneliness
  
   North, south, east, west, the world now
   Is one great powder-magazine
   And living
   Is a chill wind.
    
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