Frost
blows through the deserted streets of the city
the wind swirls the dust
carries away the cigarette butts, the clouds, the papers
few lonely passersby hurry along the streets
it blows
it blows in the chimneys, on the roofs under the bridges
it blows through the thick thighs of the convicts loitering in the prison yards
it blows into the bloodied bellies of the women giving birth outside the closed doors of hospitals
it blows in the shanties, in the lean-tos, in the taverns
it blows under the old palaces
In memoriam for the fallen
Platforms
the tall hats of the ministers
monyela
gloves
expensive furs
the soldiers on line present arms
behind the gleaming bayonets
the people are squeezed [...]