Autumn fell suddenly on streets of Oslo
on my sunburned birthday.
Rain lashed my car’s windows
furious as lust in a frigid woman.
Cold waters washed the guano from the bronze heads
of muscled, middle-aged men in Vigeland Park.
Unmoved, I watch a blond girl
lick an ice cream cone with a velvet tongue.
I feel safer among grey-haired, fragile diplomats
than the papers in my safe.
(Th e young Mexican ambassador left for China
with the early, migrating birds.)
Deep into my manhood, at forty-fi ve,
and autumn falls merciless on me.
Like a heavy, dry woman.
Like sudden death.
Oslo, 15 August 1993
Written in English, revised by Jascha Kessler
Milan Richter