Worked by the sweat of motors,
Faced with the night
At risk of motors
Who lived here? WHo has clean hands?
Who glinted in the phantom night
For other phantoms?
Who lives there below? Who is weeping?
Who has lost the key to the house?
Who cannot find the bed? Who is sleeping
On the steps of the stairs? Who, when the morning comes,
Will dare to interpret the silvery trail?
Look above me
When the water again pushes the watermill round,
Who will dare to remember the night?
Ingeborg Bachmann, "Fleeing by Night"
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