For Pasolini

By Nicolas Born
Translated by Sam Langer.

In the dream Pasolini came up to me

in a starring role.

He looked good, flashing blue like a machine

an actor for everything -.

Pasolini stamped through puddles, he could be 

short, lumpish, dark and antisocial

still he was Pasolini and always another.

Then he stood in the entrances to building shells

waved from up on the scaffolding.

With his finger he pointed out old cars.

In the entire country lived a population

whose lover he was

and with the camera he found countries

that he no longer saw through dark sunglasses.

My images are whining, he said

I could make silent films;

I haven't heard a word in years.

He started to grind on me and that was

just fine.

Then he fell down a foundation pit.

A car finished burning.

Rain was falling on the sea.

The cinema wash was all white again.

Click here to listen to Nicolas Born reading this poem in German on Lyrikline.org.