"Liebster! Alle Scheidenden
reden wie Trunkene und
nehmen gerne sich festlich…"
F.H.
With but one wave — and all’s o’erthrown,
Within her — a flame of passion’s fire.
A pulse, a spark, a strength unknown —
One wave — and I am lost entire.
The patterns race — both storm and glowing,
Their edges soar through trembling air.
The crescent’s curve, its secret showing,
Holds breath, then flame together there.
A freedom-wind — yet bound, and strangely,
To one who sees yet dares not breathe.
Parting — the craft of souls most saintly,
When melted light their fates doth sheathe.
Liebster!
© Copyright: Наталия Стефанович, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125112103249
Свидетельство о публикации №125112103249
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