Not reading English,

and hearing about a new English thriller

that hasn’t been translated.

Seeing a cold beer when it’s hot out,

and not being able to afford it.

Having an idea

that you can’t encapsulate in a line of Hölderlin,

the way the professors do.

Hearing the waves beat against the shore on holiday at night,

and telling yourself it’s what they always do.

Very bad: being invited out,

when your own room at home is quieter,

the coffee is better,

and you don’t have to make small talk.

And worst of all:

not to die in summer,

when the days are long

and the earth yields easily to the spade.