When they wouldn’t let me play football
When they wouldn’t let me play football
because I was too fat to reach the ball
and another fat guy
got to be goalie
I went up the hill outside the village.
There I’d built
in a hole in the earth
a secret camp:
A book by Camus on logical suicide.
Naked women from magazines.
Triangular slices of cheese from the general store
I’d stolen.
Hazel nuts.
An atlas.
I sat for hours on the hill
and waited for the train to Vienna.
Punctually at 6.10 it went by
and with it my wishes and hopes.
Today I think:
I should have stayed in the village.
I should have fought back.
Translated by David Malcolmand Wolfgang Görtschacher
Page(s) 184-185
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