Ostpreußen like a shell with amber inside 
broken iron crosses and pieces of tombstones with a gothic script lying in high grass 
the sun is walking on the tracks of deers 
tourists in their former homeland 
landscapes hide into suitcases 
jars with the ground on which grandfather kept Prussian horses 
there are no hoof tracks, but foundations of the stable are 
the campfire on the beach shines like an amber necklace 
breakfast in the imperial tavern in Cadinen 
tail turbot points to Elbing  
checkered houses  
the last windmill looks at the river 
the water was and will stay here  
our footprints are only for a moment 
our shadows will sit on the seashore 
our memories will return here on the wings of seagulls