The clouds unbuckle the wooden beams
as rain seeps through the shafts and drains.
It ricochets down fire escapes
and strums a box of music.
The ebony city rolls her ivory eyes.
She turns a corner and flees the world.
The rhythm of rain infiltrates the silence.
The rain-blues are all left behind.
Translated from German by Paul Weinfield, © 2016
Photo by Gordon Parks