Aloneness is something that has no name or address
About this subject there are several variations, to all of which, this time, we will give the name: Amalia.

First Variation:

There is someone in the street who every morning comes and screams in front of the locked door of the old age home
He screams it to a fixed tune that comes back ten times on the name
With an intonation that changes and grows stronger and more urgent
As if knowing in advance that it will not be answered:
Amalia Amalia Amalia Amalia Amalia
Amalia Amalia Amalia Amalia Amalia
And then he goes away

Second Variation

There is only Amalia a girl
She stands alone at the window
Screaming at the top of her voice
After her man has already left
Her voice is cracked from sobbing
Labor that I labored with you why who are you
And why what am I not a queen then for what what and why
Foolish Amalia conceived toil and trouble Amalia was haughty
Worked without reward
Without merit
Miserable Amalia
A day’s labor I gave you an hour’s labor I gave you a night’s labor I gave you
A slight labor I gave you an innumerable labor I gave you
A gift without recompense recompense without overhead
Why who are you why what

Third Variation

Amalia is weary
The whole world is silent and there is no scream
The hunter has already shot the caravan has gone past
If anyone calls in the street beside the house Amalia will not hear
If there will be a house Amalia will not stand in it
Amalia who fled from the mountains and hates the wilderness
And even the street is not her friend
Amalia has spread out her labor like cloaks
And treachery she no longer spoke for who speaks treacheries
In a world of lovers no one is guilty
And not in a world of haters either
Amalia has taken off her gate and her house
No longer does Amalia labor to stop the holes in the dikes
Even if the ocean should now flood the world
Like the weeping that she now holds in her diaphragm
Amalia is no longer all hope of eternal love, “love as in the movies
Before we were born” Amalia one transparent night saw that she is just a cloak
Someone touched her the way dolls are touched terror seized her
Even though the cloak was handsome and he even wore a tie
Amalia took off cloaks of gold and disappointment
And went out to the tracks and if only she could now vomit up her weeping Amalia into the sea
And if only she could now tear her skin off of her
For ever her skin is unnecessary even her skin strangles her
Amalia longs for rest if only a wave would embrace her now