képek, betűk

we live in our words, comfortably
lying among soft sentences, like piglets,
for whom the sty is the universe,
I step out into the yard
the sky is a wonderful raisin cake
everything is made of the same thing
no one has invented gods yet
no one wanted to cut down forests
there has not yet been a human here
so the river is not poisoned
it’s good here, I’m just afraid
that sooner or later they will come
to talk, to talk and to destroy
they build buildings
they start rambling about spirituality
they invent the first god
then there will be those who manufacture weapons
to kill the one who does not believe
who does not want what they want
I am afraid of you
so I close my eyes
tighter
so that I never wake up
and no one else comes
just let everything remain like this
without language
in silence.