This poet´s son is miserable
In the moment of the biggest joy
after a long waiting
I don´t know how to trickle syrup
with my pen on to the paper
but stare mute in front of me
straight on the liberating words
My head is so empty
that my happiness should have no limits
but it all will stay inside of me
until I realize it myself
and someone else shall write the happy poems
I can´t do it
I´ll just write about sorrow, pain
Smile, happiness remain outside
But inside of me I can be glad
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