A poem from the collection 'Galgenfrist' by the Danish poet Ivan Malinowski

Diktonius

But after the fire

one could almost

spell one’s way to the grass’s veins

the mayfly’s track

the cobweb

so rich a destruction

so good a hatred

(there they sit in their nests

of chewed paper

death does not understand them

shame comes and has lost

its simplest metre)

yes I know it

the cry in the street

hunger’s spurts of flame

in leap on leap

against these walls

this horrible world

now finally so beautiful so pure

in the hot ashes of your poems.