THE DISAPPEARED: Poetry, by Hans Magnus Enzensberger

THE DISAPPEARED

The disappeared as the earth swallowed them up, was the air? As the shores of the sea innumerable; however, lay not in the arena, but in anything, ranks forgotten. And often hand to hand, as the minutes of us closer together, but no memory, not registered, not decipherable in the dust but disappeared, their names, the spoons, the soles. We do not deplore can not recollect any of them were born, fled, dead? No dissolved, it is without gaps over the world, but holds it together just what I do not live there anymore, those who have disappeared. They are everywhere. Without the absent, there would be nothing. Without the exiles, nothing would balance. Without the immeasurable, nothing commensurable. Without the forgotten, nothing certain. The disappeared are right, we too in an echo.

(Hans Magnus Enzensberger)

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