Herbert Nehrlich (04 October 1943 / Germany)

I look for any sign,
dark pupils hope
as shades of gray appear,
blurs growing into blue,
and it is really you.
My darling when you write
I sleep and dream of much,
like sailboats in the night
so close, they never touch.
And did you hear the rain,
each dropp a little drum
to raise the spirits' soul,
asleep from too much rum.
Hush now, my love and sigh
let lanterns be your light,
it is the winds that cry,
near sailboats in the night.