Another poem by Maria Barnas

Der Doppelgänger

I started to read Der Doppelgänger in Paris

in a room that slightly swayed

It seemed well-known to me.

In all the streets I see a house where I can live

for I come from low-lying marshlands.

A descendant of land-seekers at sea

whalers and pirates I have a soft spot

for England an interest in France

and a preference for Russians who’ve strayed

into German. In Berlin I came across Der Doppelgänger

in a house that was just like my own.

What I had left behind in Paris

and would be able to approach from Berlin began

to thrust itself upon me in ever more concrete forms.

I let this happen for it was a bridge

that would mend loose ends in space and lacks in me.

But who says bridges have to be completed

and where are the words that I read.