Die Hoffnung
Stonecutter.
Rock pit, stony songs. Dust-head, powder lung. Hard-bit: gut;girl gone. Hammer, hit, smash. I'm perched under sky on a wall in a crack. Some comrades acrushed by a slippery slab. We'll all fall down. We'll all fall down. Not wrecked yet? Expect it. First wife, neglected. Next wife, infected. Betrothed, broke-neckeded. Last wife just left. With hustle and muscle i'll beat dolor down 'til my brittle bones break or a vein I have found. Clay will run away; marble might stay. I'll pinch and I'll chisel and flatter you out, grovel in gravel, at last devout. This wall maybe stone, but she's softer still than those other crones.
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