Noisy nights, deep yellow lights
tint the streets, hint at outcasts
that did outlast the grim cold winters of the past;
splinters in society.
Meanwhile, the crowd does join the Christmas fair –
snow in the air – to buy cheap wine,
to dine, to whine about the great decline
of their homeland that is quite fine.
And they move on and buy their beer
at Assal's shop, shoes from Amir,
on which they stumble home each year
to disappear, to leave the fear
beneath the starlit sky behind.
Punkt im Dunkeln 