Spring flows in the groin,
I am with you peacefully
I negotiate. the feeling of panic
it does not come here anymore.
Life is our wives,
the orgiastic love of our host.
I will be with you in talks,
fish friends in need.
Nothing comes a feeling of panic.
You say your daughter,
he is an artist,
barely feet on the ground even walks.
I write a poem,
there in the wilderness near the pond
I send. The boat is still firmly
shore, one forgotten
the child's shovel firmly in the sand.
Lets just thought lightly
float in the air. I do not count inside me
no longer that feeling of panic.
I'm just waiting quite calmly
the growing surface of the water lily pad-filled.
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