September 2002 bis Jänner 2003 und März 2016
Kathmandu with its many suns an many mouths speaks
To tourists it speaks with an antique mouth,
with a mind chiselled in petrified rethoric.
But to us it speaks with engine mouth -
we oscillate with the murky sun under a pall of smoke.
After sliding across garbage hills, the sun languishes
in the city's last resorts
children help it out of gutters, women oil it's weary back
and bottom in primitive yards.
Clammy, it rushes off and dives into the holy Bagmati
after a wallow the sun merges into babel
panicking, like every one of us for a language
we'll have to speak tomorrow.
© Hanna Battisti