* (Eng.: "Old Customhouse") A village on the Black Sea shore haunted by people with a bohemian lifestyle.
by Franz Hodjak (b. 1944)
* the high sky like the navel of nothingnessthe dead consummate typewriterthe peacefulness.the bells of noon on radio Boulez.in through the window comes the scent of acacias whichawakens nostalgic memories of crabs.dunes, wandering, a place,seven leagues beyond the world's end.everything here has the color of goat milk,the leaves, the talks, the Sundays,death, the cats,the seagulls' whirling.the days elapse without certitudes, without doubts.the old men stare with bulging eyesat their wrinkled shadows,the village fool is officially hiredas a sexton.the young women receive interminable lettersand money orders.in each newspaper everyoneis enlightened onthemselves.every morning,the sun duly returns as a sunthe coastguard is a real coastguard,the surprises remain the same.and whatever hasn't happened yet never stopsnot happening. (1980)Kriterion, 1982
* (Eng.: "Old Customhouse") A village on the Black Sea shore haunted by people with a bohemian lifestyle.
by Franz Hodjak (b. 1944)
* (Eng.: "Old Customhouse") A village on the Black Sea shore haunted by people with a bohemian lifestyle.
by Franz Hodjak (b. 1944)