A/N: This is the English version of my German poem „Tag im April". You might notice that there are some slight differences in terms and syntax – I think it simply sounds better this way. Anyhow, I hope this is an adequate translation.

An April's Day


turns the fading tide

over the city.

Marshlands of slippery

steaming alleys,

stepmother-like rigid

chilly walls.

A dome weeping in deepest sorrow

above our heads.

Spring is a name

of the alien,

the wanderer,

That heedlessly passes by,

scanning us

with scornful eye.

As if this city,

this place


some musty-smelling creature at the kerb.

Forgotten is warmth, forgotten

is light.

The sun, whose countenance we

no longer can recognize,

is caged

in the grey fortress' dungeon.

We cannot tell anymore

The sky's blue

with our asphalted eyes.

Gone are all the birds,

roaming people


for new worlds.