* Bouncing on the sail of the multiverse

Poetry

 

Bouncing on the sail of the multiverse, of all existence,
are little balls of space-time, colorful and glimmering.
Making us anxious,
making fragile that sense of being,
which we believe our own.

 

Our sons and daughters must find their own part to play
in that sea of balls, must be the masters of what is
called life. And we
should instruct them, should show them.
If we only even knew how.

 

How do you hop and leap there on the playground
with all the other three- and five-year-olds, just like
a three- or five-year-old? For that's just as much as
you're able to fathom of your existence as a speck,
as a prick in a ball in a sea of balls,
bobbing on that endless-night sail.

 

Then I'm reminded of how frightening it was
to think of infinity when I was small. You go
and you go somwhere, your heart clinking and quivering
like a pulsar inside you; and that walk never comes
to an end, your head starts to spin. And more frightening
than that feeling of endlessness


is only the sense that somewhere is inevitebly an end.

 

 

Translated by Adam Cullen


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