I shall tell you what will be, Open for you such distant spots!.. May the historians condemn me For the incomprehension of the spiral. On its own circle will return Hurricanes late and early, And, like a girth of white peppermint Ice tightens the paunch of the ocean.                         It will be so and not otherwise, I cannot say when, but I know - it will be thus. If northern people cry, That means, southern people will soon cry. And then there are no Dschingis Khans’ hordes, And no rattle of sabres, no clatter of horses’ hoofs - Billions of drained glasses Will overflow the sinful earth.
© Elisabeth Jelinek. Translation, 2018