The white wall

(a folk song translated from an unknown language)

He came out of the dry east with a leather bag
He stood in the square, and I know he smiled at me
Stroked his mustache, boasted to the village men
No one knows who told his secret

The leather bag was left empty against the wall
Behind it red spots, blood red
He shouldn’t have looked at the other girls
I wash and wash the wall, I rub very hard

[Berlin, 3/30-31/94]