She is laughing in my hair
And my hand is in her soul;
She is blooming without care
And I melt with her to …

She keeps laying in my bed
And my eyes are so sore:
Where the elder tree stands withering
A stone trades itself for throne to sky .

When she whispered like a bird,
When she told me like from hell
The most beatiful women in the world
Expressed herself through herself
To nothingness !

15/Jan/2007, 03:04 Uhr , Dagazhallen, Gedichte, Gedichte 1997-1999 ,