The white trail of the wake
paints the triangle
against the black slate of the sea.
Is spreading back towards our parting
which, unbearably grave,
cried out the conditions of life:
The greater the love
the harder the farewell.
The better the understanding
the sadder the want.
Never more
shall Autumn and Spring
spread colours and leaves
over the tree beeing felled
long before time.
I´m going home now.
We won´t meet again.
Kamete
Cpoyright
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