Bertolt Brecht (10 February 1898 – 14 August 1956 / Augsburg)
Rich cloth under my fingers
While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace
You were invited for dinner
While the minions of law are after me.
We talk about the weather and our
Lasting friendship. Anything else
Would be too bitter.
Read poems about / on: weather
Comments about this poem (Parting by Bertolt Brecht )
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