The wind on my heart beats
Incessantly.
The thickest ivy is growing up,
And soon there won’t be any window
Or a door.
And I have to look elsewhere.
So the wind chisels and shrieks
And there isn’t any calm
Outside.
My hearth has a little fire,
And the sun goes by
Without me.
And time also passes
Without a word.
A coin I lost,
All golden blue, I remember,
The shape of the sky.
Don’t cry when the wind blows like that.
Don’t listen.
The fire in my hearth is dying now.
The glint of a coin?
I’ll leave it there,
To look at the sun,
To chase the wind.