the ovens slept

I
berlin

when we woke up with nests
in our hair we named night

the convalescent fathers slammed
all the ovens shut shovel-handed

and the ovens slept without
collecting us in their oblivion


II
glauchau

when we were sick from soot
and the dry-bulk of archives

we moved with our grandfathers
into a boarded-up signal tower

watched the old rail guards
set their hands on the lever

through the dead switch line
ran a tremble as of traveling


III
malczyce / maltsch

when the discarded wagons
on the sidetrack imagined

reloading points at the oder’s knee
freight chutes and culm

we stole one sluggish car
from its rail from its bed

we let sparks in empty warehouses
leap in our direction
 

IV

                                                                   The little train stations without towns.
                                                                                               Wolfgang Koeppen

but when we rose up like sparks
on an empty stretch between towns

since the stars too one says
stoke their ovens above us

we signaled through landscape
that lay like fly ash around us

once more the route through to
the house of the switch operator


V
legnica / liegnitz

when we traveled in trains men
who were not our fathers carried

the country in hand-braided baskets (beer
and mushrooms) drowsily through the cabins

smoke from their mouths still hung
like night long stuck in our hair



Uljana Wolf, kochanie, today i bought bread (World Poetry Books, 2023) Translated from the German by Greg Nissan