Little Forgotten Day

I leave this place, when ears
hear an unnatural silence.
I recognize, but with difficulty, street,
which yesterday was empty-
no debris or pieces of glass.
The white rag top, like the flag-
innocence suspended above the chimneys,
near, the corpse, in a pool of blood,
and he didn't want to look
on the surrounding reality.
Prenzlau, Friedrichstadt,
Luisenstadt, Spandau-all,
only a few stumps show
that there was something, that someone lived here.
Although the road becomes shorter,
fused in subsequent layers of stones,
paper and ashes, tomorrow
he still will lie here,
unknown to me man,
my friend may be unrecognized,
in the dead nation to the ideal utopian.