HANDS

The left hand tears asunder,
The right hand fills in.
Now the left,
With a mind of steel,
Sways amiss
And cuts from the root to chest.
The right one cannot stop the blood,
So it remains silent, cries for a while,
Yet tears cannot build a dam.

Thenceforth I speak amiss -
I stutter and I slice.

When the blood speaks
I sway firmly
And turn everything into smoke.

The right hand wrenches,
It wants to escapee,
To flow away in tears
To be left on the road.
Yet the left does not let it:
It would miss its made.

Still, at nighttime,
A forceful blood
Pales and arises,
It speaks of wrong,
Of murder and of beast.