2019 IV 10

Let me leave this fruitless place,

Rise like a bird, who's been thirsty for freedom,

For too long I had been forced to look at the future.

Don't stop me, a worthless task it proves to be...


That body of her's, which I, the vulture, greedily seek

One day will bore me. Tell me? What then?

Long ago I started to crave an escape from this cage,

So turn back the windmill's wings,


Thread apart the sutures of the past,

Allow me to go back there, to the old farmhouse near the wooden cross.

Then, when the sun will rise again

And the spell will drip from my fingers,

Hang there my wandering soul...