Homesick
by Else Lasker-SchŸler
translation
Janine Canan
I cannot speak the language
of this cool country
or keep its pace.
Even the fleeting clouds
I cannot interpret.
Night is a step-queen.
Forever I must remember Pharoah's forests
and kiss the image of my stars.
My lips sparkle brightly
telling of faraway.
I am a colorful picture book
lying open on your lap.
But your face spins
a veil of tears.
The corals were gouged
from my glittering birds.
Upon the garden bushes
their soft nests turned to stone.
Who will consecrate my dead palaces?
They held the crowns of my ancestors,
whose prayers sank in the holy stream.