Československá literární komunita
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Přidejte sePark Louis Hap
30. 06. 2009
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Autor
waldekke
There is so much I want to put in verse,
From time to time I pass the door which frames
Your face. I hesitate and fail to stop
Without a fleeing glance at your wide grin.
So cheerful, warm, amused, delighted so
I have just left the frame and picture for
A Van der Hap. In vain I sat for long,
No muse has kissed my forehead. Thinking why
Nobody's passed the tree, the bench, my dreams:
A still-life born in shadows under leaves.
All power fails me, no cognition comes.
There's just one answer, short of spitted out:
Thirteen are lines which give me indignation
As I can hardly whisper that which isn't.
From time to time I pass the door which frames
Your face. I hesitate and fail to stop
Without a fleeing glance at your wide grin.
So cheerful, warm, amused, delighted so
I have just left the frame and picture for
A Van der Hap. In vain I sat for long,
No muse has kissed my forehead. Thinking why
Nobody's passed the tree, the bench, my dreams:
A still-life born in shadows under leaves.
All power fails me, no cognition comes.
There's just one answer, short of spitted out:
Thirteen are lines which give me indignation
As I can hardly whisper that which isn't.