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Letter from my father


NR.84605

When you met your friends, I was never bitter. There are no golden palaces for anyone. But in my dreams, while the nightblind birds held their breath, and while the waves whispered in your ears, I was standing at your doorstep. Embracing you without being denied.
My friends, when I´m home I promise you all sweet ice cream, with honey and a sprig of basil on top.
If you perceive my words, my expression, my conclusions, as nonsense and fantasies, if you think my hands are worned out, and my fingers damaged as a result of every prayer I prayed, do not be angry at me, help me.
Give me a glass of wine, keep me company, as if this night would be the last.




Fri vers (Prosapoesi) av Georg Erdmann
Läst 91 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2014-06-04 21:38



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Georg Erdmann