Landschaft (1935)
by Emil Nolde
The red sky
Framed in my
Night-time window
Is sometimes
A piece fallen
Out of a childhood nightmare.
And sometimes
A suffocating
Expanse
Of erased stars
And swallowed air crafts.
Sometimes,
It is so still
It seems it is sore
And taut in pain.
Sometimes,
It is alive.
But barely.
But it is almost always
A dull red.
Like blood
Of a long long time ago.
