There are ghosts in stones
and the west wind is bad for my nerves.
All season long my

face remains white as the daymoon.
On extremely brittle days I want to

skip naked to a pond
slide into it like a bed
let spongy weeds
wrap themselves around
me & wake up to a dream.

           Petra Klein


Es gibt Geister in Steinen
und der Westwind ist für
meine Nerven schlecht.
Die ganze Jahreszeit bleibt

mein Gesicht weiß wie der Tagesmond.
Am brüchigen Tagen, will ich

zu einen Teich nacktspringen
hineingleiten wie in ein weiches Bett
schwammige Unkräuter
mich umwickeln lassen,
zu einem Traum erwachen.

           translated by Colleen Marie Ryor
COLLEEN MARIE RYOR lives in upstate New York with her son, Alistair. She plays the cello and does not find the British television series Ab Fab "hilarious."
Contemporary poet PETRA KLEIN lives in Illinois and has had her poetry appear in many publications, including: Gumball Poetry, Mi Poesias, Poems Niederngasse, 3rd Muse Poetry, (this) poetry site, 2River View, The Melic Review, Stirring, and Conspire.
The Adirondack Review