We walk by the sea-shore

holding firmly in our hands

the two ends of an antique dialogue

—do you love me?

—I love you

with furrowed eyebrows

I summarize all wisdom

of the two testaments

astrologers prophets

philosophers of the gardens

and cloistered philosophers

and it sounds about like this:

—don’t cry

—be brave

—look how everybody

you pout your lips and say

—you should be a clergyman

and fed up you walk off

nobody loves moralists

what should I say on the shore of

a small dead sea

slowly the water fills

the shapes of feet which have vanished