The castle stands up there.
Franz can’t arrive.
He with his beheaded head gives up.
But he, although dead, doesn’t give up just yet.

The castle is soaring enormous.
It devours people’s lives.
It throws away history down the river,
Living as castle for the castle’s sake.

Knock on the door of the synagogue
And run away before anybody answers.
On bread crumbs he scatters
Come a thousand doves.

Every time you come to a street corner
There is Franz, gazing downward.
At a small commercial square
His head is changed every hour.

At all the steeples in town
At once lightning strikes.
Making the stone-made city
Glare like a chandelier.

Hebrew letters are written from right to left
So, the dial of the clock, too, should go backward
Tempting all celestial bodies to go counterclockwise
Reversing time.

Franz kept writing letters to his dad
As if he was asking something of the dead father.
But then, of the two, Franz died first.
His father was buried in the same grave seven years later.

You step into a building.
Oh my, it’s a field of hemp.
Pick the leaves and dry them well.
Mix them in cookies for soaring in the sky.

To drive the busy streets of the city
Best suited is this national automobile half a century old.
The driver is Buddy Mole with his red nose.
The children come following on their skateboards.

When I come to the Old Jewish Cemetery
Dead there was Mr. Freud.
Dead there was Mrs. Freund.
Neuman, Wasserman, all dead.

Franz climbed the TV Tower
To observe the landform.
The sky grows heavy and oppressive.
From somewhere comes Dvorak’s “New World”.

It’s your Buddy Mole who diligently runs the subway.
Buddy Mole is kind enough to let humans use his territory.
It’s Buddy Mole who comprehends the world.
Buddy Mole’s wisdom is transmitted through vibration.

The bridge is a checkpoint.
Passers are required to pay tax.
Now we are crossing mundane space
Wasting transparent currency.

The cemetery also is a checkpoint
Passers are required to have passwords.
Mostly done for worldly duties
We keep waiting for something to come.

Streets are strewn with garnet.
Take a leisurely walk just before sunset.
In the crepuscule of the old town
Only Franz survives.

Good night, Franz, good morning.
Good morning, Franz, good night.
Prague is eternally guarded 
By our gentle Buddy Mole and you.

I hear “New World” from afar.