Dieter Roth - I hokli ur snjo - 1958

Poem by Einar Braga: In an ephod of snow nothing has changed on the beach the lamb sleeps in the shadow of a halled cross munching between naps on a salted seaweed then a sharp blade is hit on its neck the butcher drinks politly from the gullets open cup of live and sings innocent am I from the blood of this animal where the church stood before are hoarse organ sounds howering deep bass of the sherriff narrow voices eunuches beardless on jaws begin in antiquity on earth over the gray mouses which snuggle motherly to unhaired youngsters in the foundation of the sacristy the priest three cubits height he is risen stands in an ephod of snow by the neeling bench broken holds his cold heart in the hand hands it through an open window into the heat by the cooking lady who takes care of the old house by the brook the lady flushes gently the blood from the muscle under the crane squeezes the exudate from the compartments the kingsbite she eats herself but throwes unfortunate ears and pericardium to the dog they look long into the eyes satisfied and filled the young man who drowned his pregnant fiancee in the river where it falls into the whool pond he stands behind iron bars of the window in a striped shirt and tones let the children come to me our cat homeloving he was not spared he hangs out on the plank in a very tight snare foam in his mouth the claws out and broken eyes they stare on awful big candles that hang out from the house roof nothing has changed