because on facebook people were (again) discussing what art is and may do.
My prose translation of Morgenstern's poem:
On a Stage
On a stage there stands a tree,
taken from the edge of the closest forest.
It's overlapped on the right hand side
by a rock made of canvas,
however on the left, wonderful,
a lawn made of goat hair greens.
In the stalls little Cohn
bursts asunder full of utter illusion.
Little Cohn was made the judge
of what is art and what is not.
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