In thankfulness of Balázs Rauznitz’s generosity,
under the spell of a first experience of Béla Bartók’s Cantata Profana
I want it all as for the first time,
as if it was a synonym of to last,
to forgive and forget in one word,
to see again the Atlantic sliding in
and pouring down my eye-Falls,
up into my private attic.
I’ve no memory of the day when I forgot
how the visible ocean looks like.
When the first times sound profane and profound,
I’m the perfect Alzheimer’s patient—
lost and past lives bore me.
