Crying
Once we loved like solitary madmen
Confined in a prison of passion.
Then you left me, cruelly, without a word.
No longer my husband.
No more better or for worse.
Now I am cursed,
But the moon still shines,
And the sun does not care.
'In verse melody must be paramount, for poetry is, was and always will be music - and music alone...' - John Lars Zwerenz