Welklinkende VrijMiBo
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps monotonously
as water weeps
as the wind weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
evening without morning
and the first dead bird
on the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
by five swords.
Prettig weekend.
En be nice.
Reaguursels
Dit wil je ook lezen
Doorborrelen in het StamCafé
Proost op ons dan maar weer he
Duits bier in het StamCafé
Ook lekker in kelders
Pauselijk StamCafé
Paus dood na het zien van The Passion Terneuzen
