POET

I am a poet of world wars
I walk through a landscape of tears
I don’t believe life is so short
That we will perish like a swarm of flies

I’m on the battlefield
Where the turmoil fades
Maybe we live needlessly
In the clearing of beautiful dreams

From nowhere to nowhere we are going
It is beautiful to live without dreams
We are a flock of people rend
However, it is essential to breathe air

I am the undertaker of dead bodies
What lies all around us
I’m not trying to understand why anymore
In a landscape of dead tears

In the place of ancient dreams
Lay are many dead bodies
How essential, it was to breathe air
They perished as well as a swarm of flies

On the battlefield lie hundreds of bodies.

(03/2001)