onsdag 10. august 2016

"Tell us a tale, good spul !" Live to this day, live as before these stories, legendes, tales of yore...


Autumn in the Middle east.

The leaves are rustling,
Crunching under our feet.
Up in the cold sky mustering, 
Birds to the south retreat.

Moving, as if to circle the world -
When will the exodus cease ? -
Cranes in a wedge move south 
    from the cold,
People's cries are sadder than birds' -
Tears in their eyes don't dry.
Who knows when the people will 
    come back home ?
While birds will return by and by.

No, I will never, never forget
The wind, autumnal and wet,
The cry of the cranes and people,
And there, on the shore,
Families, destineres bleak and blank.





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