Between the lines of chaos left,
The shadows and the rubble piles,
The cats, the beggars and the old:
The ones whom death had overlooked.
He makes a simple killing there:
Chiaroscuro trades at night,
Around the Hofburg’s ruined walls,
Beneath St Stephen’s tarnished gold.
Sewer deep the devil rules.
An overspill of human loss,
From steppes and mountains, bombed out towns,
They cry to him through wounds of waste.
He’s there: a light to pry in graves.
He’s there, to light the caudite charge.
Response to the film “The Third Man”.