The wind on my heart beats


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


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.

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