Ich hinterließ sie, ohne darüber ein zweites Mal zu denken.
Jetzt bin ich an der Reihe, ich wird hinterlassen, aber und abermals.
Flüchtig kommen sie ins Leben und die Seele berühren,
Bevor es höchste Zeit ist, mich wieder zu verlassen.
Aller Arten lieben können eine Manier leiden.
I left them behind, without a second thought.
Now it's my turn, I'm being left behind, time and time again.
They come so briefly into life and touch the soul,
And then it's time to go.
Loving in any form can be a way of suffering.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Plain
The raw edge of the voice,
What paints us unique,
That inner glows within our eyes,
What let us be judged.
I wish to grasp it in my palms,
For proof of want of something real,
Needing not that of materia prima,
But spurting forth instead a delta innocuous.
What paints us unique,
That inner glows within our eyes,
What let us be judged.
I wish to grasp it in my palms,
For proof of want of something real,
Needing not that of materia prima,
But spurting forth instead a delta innocuous.
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