At the foot of the Jewish mountain


 

At the foot of the Mountain

We are sitting and we are drinking

At a small table

Here outside in front of

The Mexican Restaurant

We are sitting and we are drinking

In the Old City of Augsburg

In the south of Germany

We are sitting and we are drinking

At the foot of the Jewish Mountain

The young waitress

Understands no Spanish

She is no Mexican

But a bleached German  

Also the coffee in our cups

Does not taste like coffee

Rather like vinegar

Maybe it is the black milk

Celan once talked of

We are sitting and we are drinking

 The opposite house

Has large shop windows

Showing Italian fashion

For new, for other masters

There are some bargain

Here at the foot of the Jewish mountain

The snack bar further up the hill

Offers “Shwarma” for three Euros

Now following a Turkish recipe

Going by the name “doener”

We are sitting and we are drinking

And we are pondering

Where the other Jews are

Maybe inside the hill

Borrowed and buried

In the past

They are sitting and they are drinking

And they have a conversation

About the events of the day

With real Mexican

Inside the mountain

And they are drinking real coffee

Which flavors of coffee

 

 

(Translation of the poem „bamargalot hahar“ from Summer 2002, German translation: https://jhva.wordpress.com/2007/08/22/am-fuse-des-berges/ Judenberg Augsburg)

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