I am not dead. Through slit and crack
The piercing ray only glanced me,
And in the glow of self-possession
I survive once more once again.

Through open shutters with waves surges
A blue that does not look blue to me.
Like a baby the air's nursed itself
Full of the sun's milk that melts down.

On the sea a steamer's whistle
Blows like a rutting stag.
From mountains flashes a secret army's
Visible-invisible birth.

I am not dead. I'd like to shout loud
On this day of who gets mercy,
That today each of my sails fills
Themselves once more once again.

More verses by Franz Werfel

Advertisement