To the left, the road to the harbor. It’s not the inhabitants
that matter so much as the topographical features.
The walk to the reformed church, red and white
surveyors’ poles constitute the idea of God.
The way the road bends at a zoological negotiation—
the addressee of my lettergrams might be pleased to call it love.
People don’t go to Kyoto or Venice. The world
happens in out of the way places.
Just mind you don’t leave any tracks.
Günter Eich, Angina Days: Selected Poems, Michael Hoffman (trad.), Princeton University Press, 2010.