在死亡庭院中

I already know: this park is dead,
of children empty, cocked by dogs,
the elm row chopped off,
of blood beech leaves black-brown-red

now pack paper brown and rain-flat.
The puddles mirror inaccurately
poisoned pigeons pigeon blue
and clouds. Your color has

lost the color. Most likely white.
I don't know what lured me
and the one and the one who jogs here.

—— Dieter Liewerscheidt