In life size, Of, over a spanish coastline, while I was dazed by the smell of seafood, run towards the screams of the market women through the hall. Luminous pen-colored plunge! At fourteen, you again, How you leave a paper cut on the seam of my first, Bikinis decorated with small melons. The geaten deck chair stands diagonally above the slope (alt: like a stab of eternity). Besides (alt: lies) carelessly a book - Father Ralph de Bricassart's desire for roses and cardinal robes, Lime pale (alt: from days of heat); the thornbirds.
July eighty-four, high above the Dischma valley, Davos. I still know how you like me and Zara (alt: sister) to a snowball fight (alt: Snowflake dance) tempting. Five minutes later, the leather of our four pairs of mountain boots is, which are already ready for the next ascent to the summit in front of the fountain, dry and tough again. You changed your mind.
How moody you are.
( To brush: Nice, that you exist.)
Now you are gone.
(So it's called new:
How moody you are.
___
Now you are gone.)
Or is that you, this lemon acid, timidly blinking button (alt: Stern), who burned two frostbite the size of a tennis ball from my cheeks in the ski camp in eighty-nine, while I, whipped by innumerable ice nails, tear-wet down the black runway, blind into a snowdrift? Only in spring does the skin peel under my eyes. I'm on a hike and lean against the wall of a wooden attic to rest, as you embrace me from behind and fill every fiber of my body with your donation. (alt: penetrate, unfortunately used word!)
Once you stretch one of your tentacles through two concrete-black clouds and say hello to two cyclists, who silently pedal over the dark, scaled crocodile back of the Breton Côte Sauvage. Their future is still uncertain and because of the roar of the surf they have lost their ears. But you, a pink one, pure halo, overcome the cliffs and give them a nice boost.
I would love to drag you across the sky like the undefeated Sol the sun chariot. That would be a job! Then there comes a time, in which it says, one must protect oneself from you. You got aggressive, you have a ruinous power. You can desert entire strips of earth (alt: transform). Elsewhere you shine with absence.
In the same years, in which something throws you off track, I too lose my balance. Without you being able to cover yourself up from me, do I have to donate before the unfiltered (alt:Kraft) hide your tenderness. I still don't know, who wanders whom: you for me or i for you? How can it be, That is yours day and night in an hour, while at the same time transforming that dull gray, with all of life, from this plant to my imagination, here, withered.
Sorry, but I don't know anyone, who doesn't adore you.
The cripple loves you.
Even who doesn't know you, lives only near you. (alt: it draws near you.)
(Streaming 19.03.17) (revised 26.2.202, the text can be left as it is, but it could not be published: For example, because it is too banal: B, too shallow: S and too personal: P, MJS)