Night bile
Because both of my legs
Are unsuccessfully tired
And because I’m lonely right now
Like a peddling matchstick child
I sit down in the facilities
And cry.
I’ve cried for a long time now.
It is already getting dark; and it seems to me
Lord be busy.
And life is – – everything there is:
Madness, coleslaw, fight or soap.
I get up reasonably strengthened.
I know a newspaper woman who loves me.
And I whistle.
A crossing car toots. –
Gold and stone were not real
On the ring I found yesterday. –
The street at night is bleeding
From a thousand wounds.
And that’s so right.
Joachim Ringelnatz